A Dragon Run

There hadn’t always been dragons in the valley. Years ago, when Cassie’s grandmother was a young girl, and the small fishing town had huddled sleepily around the steep bank of the river Nyem, tales of dragons were nothing more than just that; stories. A chance for a passing traveler to earn themselves a night’s bed and board, high on the hospitality of an enraptured inn.

But that was a long time ago. Before the war. Before the steady droves of people fleeing the war had arrived, exhausted and in search of safety. And before they’d built the factories that made the weapons to keep the war at bay. And so suddenly the little prosperous town had been no more. Now the once green pastures and thick forests that carpeted the valley were gone, and in their place stood a sprawling city that bustled and jostled all the way from the high ridges in the east to the fierce peaks of the west. And the once blue skies that Cassie’s grandmother had told them about longingly were nothing more than a distant memory too. The factories’ thick black plumes of smoke had seen to that, choking the valley in a permanent thick smog that had lured in the water dragons from the war-torn plains beyond the westward peaks.

At first, their presence had been nothing more than a rumor. A shapeless darting shadow in the smog. A missing boat. Then another. A random fire in the middle of the night at the wharf that had burnt down the houses closest to the shallow waters where the old wooden town bridge crossed the river Nyem, and the dragons had chosen to build their large nests. Then, at last there was no mistake; the dragons were here to stay.

For Cassie, who had grown up in Nyem, 'The City', the dragons were a fact of life. She had spent her childhood peeking through the curtains of her families small fishing cottage on the edge of the small quay, listening to the clamoring bells which forced all the residents to hide inside whilst the city’s patrols hunted the fearsome beasts. She and her siblings would wait, eyes wide, eager to catch a glimpse of the dark leathery wings and to listen for the sound of the smashing roof tiles as the dragons swooped low, clipping their wings on the nearby rooftops as they wreaked their revenge.

They had grown up searching for trinkets in the smoking rubble in the early dawn light after the dragons and patrols had long retreated, and chasing the other fisher children around the graves as the families came together to mourn their loved ones. Anger and sadness had eventually given way to a brutal acceptance. Life was hard. Cassie's own father had been taken when she was too young to remember him, and her older brother had followed only last year, forcing her out of school and into the netting workshops. Cassie had accepted it with the same grim expression that her mother and all the women wore. The work might be long and boring but the workshop sat further out from the water’s edge and the money kept food on the table and her two younger siblings in school. Between her and her mother’s income they might even stay in school long enough to stay off the water for good. That, Cassie had thought, might just be the best they could hope for.

Or that had been the case until the week before last, when her mother had come home, and the deep furrow in her brow had quivered and shook before breaking into heavy sobs. The factory on Tumblers Wharf where her mother worked was shutting their doors for good, as the towns master’s launched another desperate campaign to curb the smog that coddled the dragon’s. A temporary ceasefire in the war on the plains had meant that for a few weeks at least, the master’s could afford to stop the factories and tackle the dragon problem once and for all.

The whole of city rested on tenterhooks. Those in the river districts waited constantly for the clanging sirens to announce the next dragon run. It was the dragons breeding season, and each battle seemed worse than the last, producing more casualties than ever. Those on the outskirts of the city, freshly arrived from the war, listened desperately for news, willing the ceasefire to hold. With new work practically impossible to find, Cassie had watched helplessly as first the money had run out, and then the food. It was second time this week that Cassie had foregone dinner. Cassie had stood silently beside her ever stoic mother as they watched her younger siblings Bonnie and Peter greedily gulp down the last of the thin fish broth. Her stomach had growled in protest but it was no use in complaining.

She needed to do something. And suddenly, there it was. The overwhelming frustration that accompanied the hunger pains had finally roused the anger that she had regularly seen spill over in the older generations, that had known life before the dragons. That’s when Cassie, daughter of Nyem, had made her decision. She was a fisher’s daughter, and fishers fished. It was time to take to the river.

Of course, it wasn't that simple. The city's Guard were patrolling the harbors and the main waterways off the river, forcing the towns people back into their homes as they swept the river for the nests. Even the fisher’s who still dared to work on the river, had been warned to stay away. It was too dangerous the Guard had said. Of course, it was dangerous, but the fishers had been dying on the water every day for as long as Cassie could remember. It was not the deaths that the Guards feared, or at least that’s what the fishers muttered under the breaths as they huddled around the quayside unable to work. It was the eggs that the Guards were worried about. Whilst the Guards risked their lives hunting the dragons, they dreamed of the dragon’s eggs that lay in wait at the end of a successful hunt. Afterall, an unhatched dragon egg was a prize beyond even Cassie's wildest dreams. One dragon egg would make a Guards career, but on the black market, a single dragon’s egg could mean a whole fisher family need never go hungry again.

Creeping out from under the warm duvet in the small hours the next morning, Cassie had dressed in the darkness, quickly shrugging on some of her brother’s old garments; a worn woolen shirt and heavy pair of dungaree’s. A plan was forming in her head and she felt a sudden urgency to go now before she changed her mind. Downstairs she retrieved her brothers fishing hooks and boots from the cupboard where her mother had carefully tidied them away. The boots were too big, but she padded them out with another pair of socks – it would be freezing on the water and she would be glad of the warmth then.

She paused on the threshold to light the small lantern, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her long black hair spilled out of her father’s old cap, fluttering down over a pair of dark eyes that Cassie didn’t recognize as her own. In the flickering candlelight they burned with a new steely determination that Cassie hadn’t seen before. A hunger for more than just food.

Outside, the street was dark and empty, but Cassie still hurried, weaving her way around the abandoned carts and makeshift food stalls, praying that no prying eyes were watching at this time. The smog was thickest in this part of town, and even in broad daylight you could only see thirty paces ahead of you. Now, in the darkness the air felt cool and the moonlight perforated the smog giving the air a hazy misty glow. With any luck, Cassie would return before even the earliest of the market traders rose to start their stalls. That was if she returned at all, she thought.

She lowered herself down on the wooden slats, where the smallest boats on the quayside were moored. She would take old Ernie’s rowing boat she decided. It was a sturdy thing, and in the event that she didn’t return, nobody would be able to refrain from hearing old Ernie clamor about his missing boat. Combined with her own absence, Cassie’s mother would no doubt swiftly put two and two together.

The wooden slats creaked underfoot, and she realized that further down the Quayside somebody else was moving too. She froze wondering whether it was a stray patrol of Guards. Seconds passed but she heard nothing more and she decided to pay whoever it was no mind. Neither face would wish to know the others business at this time. More second’s past and the steely determination that had gripped Cassie suddenly wavered. It was now or never. She needed to be back before light. Urging herself on she united the small rowing boat with the swift nimbleness of someone who spent their entire day braiding and winding the thick fishing nets in the netting workshop. Cassie stepped into the boat slowly and hung the lantern on the small wooden post at the front. The boat shuddered whilst it settled on the water and the small flame in the lantern flickered in the damp nights air. Strictly speaking, the lantern would be visible from the quayside to any passing patrols, but Cassie found the flame comforting. Besides, she told her herself, the low glow would attract the fish.

Taking up the boats small oar she paddled nervously at first, taking several minutes longer to navigate her way around the small boats and back to bank where the reeds piled high. She forced her way through them, quietly humming an old lullaby to herself as she went.

She had been going for nearly a quarter of an hour when the small Quay gave way to the main river, and suddenly the flow of the water became a fast rush around her, propelling towards the edge of the reeds where the torrent of water would swiftly carry her downstream to the nesting sites. Her hands were numb with cold, but gritting her teeth, she dug her oar into the rushes and forced the tiny boat closer to the bank. Several meters away she spotted a gap in the reeds where a tree protruded horizontally out of the steep bank and hung low over the water. It was perfect. Casting the mooring rope over the tree’s bough to secure her and prevent her drifting further down the river, she set herself to work, pulling the small line and hook from her pocket. A few meager grains of rice and bread crumbs scraped off the cupboard floor served as her only bait. She chewed and spat out the mixture rolling the paste between her fingers until it formed a small ball. If the fish were as hungry as she was maybe this would be enough to tempt a bite.

The first of the fish that Cassie pulled out of the waters was a miserable little thing. If she hadn’t had been so hungry she would have cast the thing back out of pity and let it live another day. But as needs must, the tiny sliver of flesh was enough to make her stomach growl. Slicing through the flesh with a small pocket knife she gulped it down instantly. Her stomach groaned again in complaint; such a meager ration served only to remind her just how hungry she was. Ignoring it, she carved up the rest the flesh into tiny slivers of bait and set to work again.

The next fish was only marginally bigger, and Cassie cursed, glancing up at the night sky and wondering how long she had before she needed to return. The mist that snaked all around her was yet to hold the glimmer of daylight but surely it would only be another hour at most. Though no bigger the palm of her hand, she let placed the catch in the bottom of the boat. It would something to return with at least.

The third fish, tugged furiously and Cassie nearly dropped the line as it caught her by surprise. She let out an excited yelp as the fish, the size of her forearm, emerged from the water. It thrashed and writhed against her, but Cassie, desperate not loosen her grip wrestled it into the boat and with a swift slash of the pen knife, won the struggle.

She sighed staring at the catch as it lay still twitching in the bottom of the boat. Oh how hungry she was. Her eyes flickered up to the mist and she wondered for second if she was pushing her luck to try for another. After her mother’s concerned temper had subsided there no doubt be many tears of joy as her mother whipped up a copious helping of rich fish stew. Her mother always knew how to make even the meanest of the meals feel like a feast.

Beyond the lanterns flickering yellow gleam, the mist held the subtlest of telltale pink glows and Cassie decided it was probably best to turn back. If this was to become a regular nighttime outing then it would be best not to have old Ernie’s suspicions raised on her first trip.

She looked around and grasped on the sodden rope giving it a sharp tug to pull herself back to the tree where she could untie herself. But to her horror the rope came away easily and Cassie gave a sudden gulp in alarm as she realized the rope was no longer tied to the bough of the tree but dangling free in the water. When had that happened? Surely, it must have only come loose a moment ago when she was wrestling the large fish into the boat. Or maybe not, for the tree’s bough was nowhere in sight and she realized as she twisted furiously in her sea,t that the thick reeds were no longer draped over the small rowing boat holding her in the near stagnant water, but positioned more loosely, in sporadic clumps. A gentle current was nudging her slowly but surely down the river. How far had she come? She leant forwards, peering through the mist to locate the steep sides of the bank but that too was nowhere in sight.

Forcing the oar into the water she paddled furiously towards the closest clump of reeds, but to her horror a stronger current caught the boat and she realized that she must be pushing herself further away from the bank. She felt completely disorientated.Panic rose inside of her. She didn’t have time for this. She needed to get home and return the boat before anyone saw her. Before she drifted too far downstream. Before the rangers found her. Before the dragons did.

She told herself to calm down. Lost wits are lost lives as her father had always said. Holding onto another clump of reeds, she looked around nervously trying to get her bearings. She knew she had paddled downstream so to get back she needed to paddle against the current. That was something atleast. As for which direction the bank was, the quay was on the south side of the river so if she paddled upstream then surely the bank would be to her left, she reasoned. She tried to visualize the river in her mind, picturing the old map her father had spread out of the kitchen table as he’d told them stories. Downstream of the quay, but before the old town bridge the river widened creating large swells at its banks. Her father had warned her brother of these many times telling him that currents there could twist and confuse even the most experienced of fishers. Had she really drifted so far that she had caught her herself in one of the swells, or had she, tired and hungry, panicked, and was still sitting in the reeds in the basin of the quay, the bank just slightly out of sight.

She hoped for the latter. The rough swells were the hunting grounds of the younger water dragons before they were big enough to take flight, and though their eyesight was poor they had wicked sense of smell. Out of the dense reeds her scent would surely carry. Nausea rose inside Cassie, but she forced herself to take several deep breaths. She would paddle upstream and follow the current. It was the logical thing to do. There was no point in scaring herself silly with the old horror stories her father had only told them to ensure his children had developed a healthy respect for the river.

Gripping the oar firmly, she thrust it into the water, her eyes fixed on the next clump of reeds ahead of her. She paddled furiously against the current. Clump after clump passed her by as she muttered “Nearly there,” repeatedly under her breath.

Fat droplets of cold rain started to patter down and Cassie shivered. She would be soaked through by the time she got home but a chill would be the least of her worries. She pushed a wet strand of hair clinging to her cheek away and battled on. The wind whistled loudly and Cassie felt a shiver go down her spine. It was wind, wasn’t it? She froze momentarily, ears peeled. Then she heard it. A sudden unmistakable high-pitched wail followed instantly by a shriek. Instinctively, she lurched forward into the boat grappling for the lantern. She tugged at it, freeing it from the hook but in her panic it fell and with a splash it instantly disappeared into the current. She righted herself, crouching low in the boat, eyes peeled. A shadow passed over head and her lips parted giving way a whimper. There was another high-pitched wail to her right, followed by more shrieks. Wherever she was she had managed to find a dragon run.

To her left she saw a thick clump of dark rushes emerging from the water and she paddled furiously, desperate to envelope herself in their thick strands. She clamped her eyes shut trying to block out the shrieks of guards from behind her and focus on getting to the reeds. She felt the dull thud of the bow as it hit them, but to Cassie’s horror, instead of passing into them she felt the boat recoil and bounce backwards. Her eyes snapped open, and Cassie stared at the mess in front of her. These had been reeds once, but something had trampled them, knotting them together into great big matted mesh oozing with mud and the familiar reddish river silt. Had she reached the bank?

And then suddenly a dark shadow passed over Cassie followed almost instantly by a burst of light, and a wave of heat so fierce that for a second it cleared the smog. Cassie’s true surroundings revealed themselves for the first time, and Cassie saw the outline of the patrol boat, 30 meters away. The boats helm was on fire. Tiny figures clung to its rails, harpoons raised to the sky where a long grey armored tail was disappearing out of sight. Then as quickly as appeared it was gone and Cassie found herself staring into the impenetrable mist.

But the beast would be back. Stuffing the catch into the front of her coat she turned back to the small island of reeds in front of her and launched herself onto it eager to reach solid ground.

Instantly her feet started to sink and Cassie stumbled forwards, feet heavy and catching on the matted reeds. Her hands caught her and she pulled herself forward, crawling now.

A small low whine made her look upwards, and Cassie stopped dead in her tracks. Two bright yellow beady eyes were staring back at her. Cassie froze. No more than meter ahead of her, a young dragon, no bigger than she was peered curiously at her. Underneath all the mud, it’s skin was a soft blue, quite unlike the dark leathery grey scales she had glimpsed at moments before. They eyed each other warily and a small squeaky moan escaped its lips. How old was this thing Cassie wondered? Could it breathe fire yet? Could it fly?

There was another shriek from behind them, and a fireball lit the sky like a burst of lightening. The moment between Cassie and the dragon broke and the young nestling, now realizing that it was quite alone with a stranger, squealed loudly, calling to its mother for help.

She needed to get out of there. The boat had started to float away from the reeds, its rope trailing behind just within reach. Cassie grabbed at it, pulling it sharply towards her. Her head flicked back towards to the young dragon but the small thing had shrunk away in fear, cocooning itself in the muddy reeds.

And that’s when she saw them. In the place where the nestling had sat only moments ago was a collection of small glistening rock like boulders, each no bigger than a human baby. She froze, staring at the dragon’s eggs in disbelief.

From somewhere inside her, Cassie felt a sickening tug and she couldn’t look away. She needed to get away, but all she could think was that she was standing in a dragon’s nest in reaching distance of a dragon’s egg. A real-life dragon’s egg. It was a madness. The nestling squawked again loudly as it buried its head further into the mud and then suddenly the sky lit up with another burst of flames. A ferocious heat slammed into her back, and Cassie screamed not daring to look back.

She lunged forward, and grabbing the heavy rock-like egg into her arms she dived after the small boat. The water was freezing but Cassie was running off adrenaline now and she thrust the egg into the old rowing boat, her arms flailing as she pulled herself in after it. The smog was already shrouding her again, and this time she didn’t try to fight the river, but let the current guide her and carry her away from the nest and the terrible shrieks of Guards who would not be saved from the dragons wrath.

It was then perhaps, in that moment after, when the small boat had carried her away, and the shaking had subsided, and the thick clumps of reeds had emerged from the pink mist tinged with glow of the morning light that Cassie knew her life was about to change. She had stolen a dragon’s egg, and she was going to make it off the river alive.