Christi’s Quest

Once, very long ago, before mankind had banished dragons and fairies and all sort of beautiful and terrible creatures to the pages of children’s books, one such dragon terrorized a small village in a remote area of a forgotten country. It had long since been the time of many dragons, when such beasts were common and not looked upon with such terror and suspicion. Perhaps this dragon, whose scales belied description–for they were wont to claim the colors of the earth and sky of their own accord–perhaps he was one of the very last.
Still, he preyed on the livestock of the village, not really eating more than a hungry fox or wolf, but being so frightening and inexplicable to the villagers, they thought him much greater of a menace. So that they complained to their Lord, loudly and frequently. The Lord, wanting to quell the threat of an uprising, called upon a hunter to dispense of the menace. The hunter who answered the call in the remote village, was in fact, a Huntress of some reputation–despite her lack of experience with dragons. Many of the town elders complained that her skills were fine for deer or even bear, but that she was surely no match for such a beast. But, her calm resolve and the utter lack of another candidate, earned her a purse of coin…with the remainder to be paid when the beast was eliminated.
The Huntress went out laden with weapons, strapped in black leathers, with a mane of golden locks–which attracted much speculation from the town gossips—Viking blood or fairy spawn? Christi Elohem was her name, at least the name she gave the villagers, for she cloaked herself in mystery and claimed no ties or loyalties. She spoke quietly and moved silently, but these qualities only amplified the power of her presence.
In this manner, she stalked the dragon. She was delayed by many suitors on her way, but knowing her true duty, she dispensed with them all with promises of future favors and flowers from the meadows. Finally, she was certain she had found the liar of the great beast. Christi was surprised at how easy she had been led there, which put her on guard, as she sniffed around the cave where the dragon lay snoring. She grabbed a great lance from the saddle of her mount, and checked that her lesser blades were secure in their scabbards on her hips. Then she eased inside his cave.
The beast lay stretched on its belly, before a low-burning fire. A half-eaten goat forgotten near it’s great jaws, and a pile of other bones lay scattered in a far corner. The smell made her nose wrinkle. Fear ran through her in increasing waves, as she realized the size of her foe. He was bigger than a stable. The claws that still half-clutched at the goat could easily enfold her. His head was an enormous display of scales and horns in inexplicable patterns. His nostrils were smoldering caldrons of flame. The beast’s wings, folded most gracefully across his huge back, were each larger than a banquet table at the grandest inn.
But what fixed her to her spot, other than fear…more than fear…was the beauty she beheld in the dancing colors of his skin. How it reflected and expanded the firelight, and almost glowed with its own light. Then, just when she dared to wonder, when her mind dared to imagine what the beast might be like awake, with eyes open….he stirred! She immediately–and quite violently–regretted her wonder! She readied her lance and stepped forward from the shadows, hoping he would somehow turn to present his soft belly as a target. Smoke bellowed from his nostrils as he snorted and rolled his great head–gold and red and palest of green dancing off the tips of his horns. Then his eyes opened, slowly, silently…as though anticipating the sight that was before them. They fixed on her. Huge golden eyes with cat-like pupils of great purple depth.
She took aim, her target centered between those two eyes, knowing she would have only this instant to kill him or be killed herself. Her heart wailed and mourned at the thought of killing this creature. More than it had ever wailed at taking the life of a buck or a wolf, and she said the prayer she always said before taking such a life. As she mumbled the prayer under her breath, which came ragged in her chest, the dragon lifted his head slightly and appeared to smile at her.
“You’ll need a much greater prayer for one such as I,” he said in a rich and rolling tongue.
The lance fell to the dirt floor as Christi, more in shock at his sudden movement than from the realization that he had spoken to her, prepared to be consumed in flames, or in great claws, or teeth or all three.
“Open your eyes,” said he. “I’ve already eaten today.”
She did…slowly…for the force of his voice compelled her. Her curiosity spoke up against her fear—and together they stilled her and fixed her to the space just in front of the beast.
“So, they sent YOU to rid the earth of ME?” he asked mockingly. Which did not sit well with her, and the indignation puffed air into her deflated courage.
“Yes, and I shall. Do not think little of me dragon. I have defeated great beasts before!”
He laughed and pulled himself upright, rising high into the darkness of the cave, before coming to rest in a position to put them delicate face to huge horned face. She backed up and reached for her lance, willing her mind to search for a plan…or at least an escape. A burst a flame halted her action.
“Leave it!” he bellowed. Then softer, “There will be time for you to kill me later.” She stood frozen, feeling it must be a trap and wanting to avoid it. “Now, why is it you have come to kill me?”
She told him how she had been paid by the villagers.
“But why have YOU come?” he asked.
“ I told you,” she replied, growing more fearful at the delay of what certainly would be her death.
“No, why do YOU seek to kill me? Why do you desire to kill me?” he asked searching her face with those tremendous eyes which held her firmly, but almost tenderly.
The directness of his question, the strength of his gaze, compelled her to consider his words carefully. “ I don’t,” she answered, looking down, realizing she did not have the strength of purpose nor of will to take the life of such a wondrous creature. “I have been paid to do so,” she explained. “You are a menace. You steel and kill the village livestock, you frighten the people. They fear for their lives.”
“Why? I take only sheep and goats, and an occasional cow, I’ll admit. I have never harmed a human in my life.”
“Don’t you see how just the very sight of you strikes terror into their hearts? Could you not avoid them, and ease their fear?” she asked, beginning to hope for an agreement with the dragon that could save them both.
“Little One, humans fear so much. Do you have enough lances to murder all of their fears? Do you have enough breath to bargain them all away?” he laughed sadly, softly within his chest.
She put her hand indignantly on her hips, fingering the hilt of her sword, and weighing her options with this insulting creature.
“Easy there,” he said, eyes opening wider, flashing her a look she could not fathom. “I will give you your chance at my belly later. I will give you a clear target to my heart,” He rose up to expose the huge bands of scales on his underside, holding a claw to his chest where she assumed the beast’s heart beat. “First, I would know yours.”
“You would know what?” she asked, becoming increasingly suspicious.
“I would speak with you, and know the heart of the one who will defeat me. Is that too much to ask? Must you hurry away to murder another creature?” his voice grew mocking as he looked at her closely.
She was confused, her fear wrestling with her curiosity, and an odd feeling for this dragon who stood just feet away. She looked him over well, telling herself she was studying for a weak point in his armor, knowing she hungered to know more.
“Great Huntress of the Wood,” he addressed her formally with a low bow. “I give you my word, my oath, that I will offer my life up to you for you to complete your duty and collect your purse. I will allow you to take my life, if you will but spend a few hours with me.”
“Dragon, I do not understand,” she said, looking sideways at him. “Why should I believe you would do such a thing? Why would you wish to?”
The great beast slumped into the dust and let out an equally great sigh, which filled the room with warm and slightly unpleasant air. “Is not the word of a dragon worth anything anymore?” he said with a moan. “I propose this for selfish reasons, I assure you.” He continued, chin resting in the dirt. “I am old. I am tired, and I have fears of my own to rival the fears of you humans.”
She stepped slowly forward. “A great creature like yourself…you are afraid? Afraid of what? What fear could you not defeat?”
“Did you or your village of humans who hired you ever ask why it is I might hunt their livestock, when I could have delicious game from the forest? Did you ask why I would allow you to get within a mile of my home without making cinders out of you? Did you ask why I fly low, and sear the edges of their precious wheat which stole the forests from my land without harming a single one of them?” his voice rose in timber and in anger as he himself rose from the floor. She humbly shook her head no…they had not asked these questions.
“No, I thought not. For the truth of those answers might dispel your fears. And above all else, humans must have fears,” he shook his head and his gaze grew cloudy.
“Why?” she asked, quietly. “Why do you do these things? Why did you allow me to come here?”
He looked straight at her, golden eyes blinking liquid in the firelight. “Because I desire, before I die, to be known.”

In the long silence that followed, she began to shiver. In time, which they stood apart from, it had grown dark and chill. He gathered logs in his claws like kindling and lit a great fire to warm her. She sat down, breathing deep, willing the fire to ease the feelings that shuddered through her body. Knowing that this knowing would change her forever.
He began to tell his story. He began by telling her his name, which in the language of dragons was almost painful to her ears. He graciously translated.
“You may find it easier, as humans have before, to call me Draconus. Elwart Woelen.” She offered her name, which he seemed to already know.
His story then began in earnest. His musical voice rolling over her like a calming tide, his tongue clicking and snapping as a curious punctuation of his tale. He cooked the rest of the goat for her to eat, which she did with just a hint of smile at the irony of the meal. When she excused herself to tend to her horse and to relieve herself, his heart froze in fear that she was escaping from him. For a moment he thought of taking her prisoner and flying to a remote island where he could have her forever, such had become his desire. But it was not in his heart to do such a thing.
Christi came back long moments later, having traded her battle garb for a soft tunic of a dusty shade of rose.