Cradle Breaker

Pain. It coursed through the beast, clenching his stomach tight, snatching his breath away. Anger. A rage so fierce it pierced him like arrows driving through his heart. Hatred. The dark emotion filled his mind until nothing else existed. It drove him to the village. It fueled the fire in his belly, the red flames scorching everything in his path. Buildings, trees, Vikings. Men, women and children fell beneath his wrath. From the rafters of the halls to the cradle where the babe slept, the village was ravaged. The cries of loss were dull in his mind as the flames devoured all that stood. He did not care, he couldn’t care. His empathy for the short-lived humans had evaporated the instant they murdered his companion. Oh, how he loathed them for taking her away from him. He would not forget; he would never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The child gawked openly at the old man, not noticing until too late an older boy trying to take his place. Abruptly he was shoved to the side, and he stumbled, falling upon his knees. Thedwin glared up at the bigger boy, Merle, who sneered with disgust before returning his attention to the storyteller. He was recounting the tale of the red beast who had attacked the village many centuries ago. Thedwin picked himself off the ground, wiping snot from his nose as he turned to listen to the tale.

“The creature was easily as large as your father’s hall with teeth as sharp as swords and talons like spears. Terrible he was, intimidating and savage. But our warriors had prepared for his arrival. They trapped him with nets and hooked his wings, holding them down. They prepared to cut off his head. But-“ The old man looked keenly around the audience, focusing on no one in particular. “The beast was cunning. He chewed through his own wing and freed himself, killing many in his escape.” The boys shouted with outrage, some shivering and hugging themselves. Thedwin gaped at the old man. “He hasn’t been seen since.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in before unexpectedly continuing. “However, you must be careful young lads. It’s said the beast still roams Harvaldi’s Qualm. Never stray there unless you wish to become his next meal!” He jumped unexpectedly, lunging towards the boys with fingers hooked to mimic claws. They yelped and scrambled away from him, trampling poor Thedwin in their wake. The old man chuckled and turned away. He noticed Thedwin and curled his lip in disgust before disappearing into the dark interior of his hut. Thedwin glared at his retreating back. Everyone treated him differently.

“Meat head.” He muttered wiping his dirty nose once more. He traipsed off towards the direction of the temple. Thedwin had no hearth to return to, just a room in the temple where he was permitted to stay. He had arrived in the Viking village of Rumbrys not long after he was born, no one knew where he came from. They told him his parents had been cursed and died of a plague. He didn’t understand why that would cause them to treat him differently, but they did. The superstition surrounding him and his unknown origin made him an outcast. They hated him just for existing in their village, for sleeping within their walls. He didn’t like this place much either. It smelled like fish and dirt.

Rumbrys was located near the great white cliffs of Helgin, high above the sea of Lumoath. Where it was nestled the cliffs were naturally terraced, creating a sort of staircase down to the sea. The village was on one of the largest terraces. Some of the outliers living on their own terraces provided crops to the town. On occasion, hunting parties were sent to the top of the cliffs, the Thinwood. Past the Thinwood lies Harvaldi’s Qualm. No one knew much about the Qualm, none dared enter it. Legend claims that Jartone, Harvaldi’s second eldest son, was supposed to be imprisoned there and no one dared to anger Harvaldi. The God of the Sea was not to be dishonored in such a way. Thedwin had heard the priests talking about their Gods, they spoke of the misdeed of Jartone and his imprisonment. Thedwin didn’t like the subject very much. The lore of the gods disinterested him. He preferred to hear about great wars and battles won against terrible beasts.

Thedwin stumbled as he was suddenly shoved from behind, falling into the muddy road. He didn’t have time to pick himself up before he was lifted by the back of his shirt. Merle rolled him onto his back, resting a foot on his chest. Thedwin shouted and tried to push the much older boys’ foot away.

“Get off me.” He cried, tears stinging his eyes as the boy dug a heel into his ribs.

“Shut up.” Merle growled. He laughed at the crying child and motioned for his entourage to come closer. “Why don’t we take the pup for a nice walk through the woods?” The boys snickered and bobbed their heads in agreement. Thedwin squirmed and fought the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. Merle snarled and kicked his head, shutting him up. The last thing he felt was being hauled over one of the boys’ shoulders. He thought he heard something about the Qualm before slipping into unconsciousness.

Thedwin woke slowly. First, he noticed the sound. It was eerily quiet, the occasional chitter from some creature interrupting the silence. No waves, no wind, no men shouting at each other, none of the villages usual sounds. He was pressed against something soft and slightly damp. He opened his eyes slowly, fearful of what he might see.

Brown. The rough texture belonging to a tree. What was the thing he lay on? Moss. The brightly colored plant felt squishy under his hands. He liked it, but it shouldn’t have been there. He gasped and sat up looking around wildly. All he could see was trees, massive looming trees. They looked as if they might be as ancient as the world itself. His small chest rose and fell rapidly as he skittered back against the tree, hugging his knees close. This wasn’t the Thinwood.

“The Qualm.” He breathed the words with fear. He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was. He began to cry then, not loudly for fear of attracting predators, but his muffled sobs could not be entirely quieted. The sound drifted easily over the silent forest, ignored by most, but not all.

Thedwin hiccupped, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, and stifling his tears as best he could. Stupid Merle and his stupid friends. They would play pranks on him once every blue moon, but they had never gone this far before. He glanced around, looking for anything that might be able to lead him home. He found nothing. He was lost in the Qualm. He began to cry again. In his total despair Thedwin failed to notice the light tremors in the ground as something large stirred in the distance, attracted to the cry of sorrow.

The mass moved slowly through the familiar territory. He did not rush; he was in no hurry to discover the source of this sound. He did not care much for other things; he had forgotten how to care long ago. However, this sound piqued what little he had left in him. He had not heard it in his forest before.

As the tremors increased in strength Thedwin finally took notice. He ceased his crying and sat frozen still, listening. Thud. Thud. Thud. The methodical return of the tremor was unmistakably the sound of something moving, something very large. In his youth he did not think to flee, instead he decided to try and hide, unaware of the strong stench of man that clung to him like a dark cloud.

Thedwin looked around desperately for anywhere to hide. His eyes alighted on a small hollow under one of the ancient trees. Moss covered the root system, providing some cover. He quickly crawled over and tucked himself into it. There was enough room for him to lay comfortably flat on his back, but had he been any bigger he would have had to tuck his knees against his stomach to fit.

The tremors increased in strength until his teeth chattered with every step. He squeezed his eyes shut placing his fists over his ears. He shook from head to toe, tears sliding silently down his cheeks. Then the tremors stopped altogether. The complete silence frightened him, and he remained still, refusing to open his eyes.

A warm breeze lightly ruffled his hair. He sat silently for a minute, then two. Still nothing. Finally with painful slowness he lowered his hands from his ears and listened. The only thing he could hear was the sound of the breeze as it ruffled the plants near his hideaway. Mustering what little courage he could Thedwin opened his eyes and froze.

A great charcoal eye met his, the black faded to a flaming orange surrounding the slit pupil centered directly on him unblinking. Thedwin could hardly breathe. The panic froze him completely, all he did was stare. The great eye blinked once then drew away, revealing more of the massive head. Sparkling scales, a dark burgundy red. A large nostril rimmed with small white spikes. Teeth easily as long as he was tall, if not longer. Thedwin could see part of a thick neck plated in larger scales of the same color, a part of a muscular limb, and something that looked almost like leather. The odd limb rustled like sandpaper. A wing.

It was then that Thedwin began to cry in earnest. Great heaving sobs shook his whole body, the tears blurring his view of the dragon. For it was a dragon, there was no mistaking it. He had seen depictions of them on the village banners. He knew what he was looking at. He was going to die. He was going to die and he had never even lived.

He was lightly aware of a string of thought entering his. They weren’t his own for his were of fear and death, these weren’t even full thoughts. They were impressions. Smells, sights, and sounds. He could hear a high-pitched wail, it was annoying. It should be quiet. Immediately Thedwin was silent, as if someone had commanded it, the tears slowing. He blinked multiple times and stared wide eyed at the beast again. At the dragon. It stared back with a look that did not seem hungry or menacing. If he had to guess, the gaze seemed almost indifferent if not a little annoyed. He sniffed but did not move to wipe the snot, he just continued to stare, curiosity beginning to form in his young mind.

The dragon snorted, a hot breeze washing over Thedwin as it did so. It blinked and drew away from him. Shuffling its wings, it settled a little ways away and continued to watch the human under the roots. Thedwin maintained the gaze, scarcely blinking. Neither of them moved, the dragon’s hot breaths methodically rustling the forest floor. Finally, it looked away from him and yawned, flashing two rows of massive, pointed teeth. It lifted a wing and nibbled lightly at the base of it, ignoring Thedwin completely.

He stared at it puzzled. Was it not going to eat him? As if in response the presence he had felt before returned with an impression of his thin body followed by what he could best make out to be disgust. He was too skinny.

Thedwin shifted himself lightly, uncomfortable with whatever was going on inside his mind. The dragon did not seem to react as he moved, which he took to be permission. He slowly crawled out of the roots, never taking his gaze from the beast. Contempt flashed through him at the thought of the word beast followed by a low growl from the dragon. Thedwins knees shook as the sound reverberated through him. However, the dragon did not move or try to eat the boy, as he assumed it would.

After a minute of nothing happening, Thedwin dared to move again. This time he stepped away from the dragon. One step, then two. He was about to run into the woods when a massive tail appeared above him and rested before him, blocking his exit. No. Then a series of impressions flicked through his thoughts. It showed a path leading the opposite way then the Thinwood and the road to Rumbrys.

Thedwin whipped around, staring in shock at the dragon. He had spoken! It was a he for certain as the voice had been undoubtedly masculine. He gaped at the dragon, questions forming on his tongue.

“You can talk!?” He stuttered, forgetting his fear of the dragon as curiosity and amazement filled his mind. No. The same word filled his ears. No, not his ears, his mind. He looked the massive dragon up and down. He was easily sixty feet long and twenty high. “No? You can’t talk? But you just did.” This time nothing. The dragon just fixed his gaze on the boy and flicked out his forked tongue. Thedwin cocked his head lightly and scratched his cheek. “Is no the only word you know?” Yes. Thedwin scrunched his brow together and pointed at him. “Liar.”

Thedwin’s fear had been completely forgotten at this point as he grew braver. He began to question the dragon, but he only got a yes or a no, if he even got an answer. Sometimes all he got was a flicker of thought, but the dragon mostly ignored him. Without noticing he had, Thedwin began to enjoy their interaction. He was fascinated by the dragon. What four year old wouldn’t be impressed by a massive winged creature? He began to chatter on about his life, asking the dragon questions occasionally, but mostly just talking. No one had ever listened to him before.

After a while with no response from the dragon, Thedwin paused and wondered if he was sleeping. He shuffled towards the dragon’s left side to try and get a glimpse of his head he had turned away earlier. He paused when he saw the dragon’s left wing. It was horribly mangled, half the size it should have been, with torn edges on the membrane and a terrible scar on the stump. The dragon turned, hiding that side from Thedwin again. Thedwin backed up and shuffled his feet. “What happened to you?” His only answer was a flicker of emotion, a sadness, or a great pain, he thought, but that was all. The dragon rose then and lowered his massive head directly in line with him. Thedwin froze. He snorted a cloud of hot air over the boy before turning away, shaking the boys’ bones with every step as he began to leave.

“Wait!” Thedwin called after him, following from a distance. He struggled to keep up with his little legs and he stumbled. “Wait!” The dragon stopped and let out a low growl. Thedwin hesitated but was not afraid. “What’s your name?” The dragon eyed him for a moment but said nothing and walked off, leaving Thedwin where he stood.

Thedwin stared after the large dragon, feeling a sense of melancholy. But before he could dwell on it, he felt a thought projected into his.

Artonis.

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Artonis shuffled his wings impatiently, his keen gaze roaming over the hollow, searching. A large bumble bee buzzed near his ear, he flicked it, shooing it away.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

He swung his head around towards the familiar path and watched Thedwin pick his way out of the trees. The boy was much taller than when they had first met. He had continued to grow, especially in recent months. Artonis had stopped keeping track of time many centuries ago, but he thought it had been about six winters since their first encounter. Their friendship had developed slowly as the boy continued to visit Artonis. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just eaten the boy when he first found him curled under the roots. Perhaps it was the way he had cried, pitiful and annoying. He could tell he was different from the very beginning.

Artonis lowered his great head to Thedwin’s so the boy could affectionately stroke his nose. He closed his eyes and let out an appreciative rumble as the boy scratched the spot under his jaw he always had difficulty getting.

“Good morning, Arty.” Thedwin said cheerfully, using the nickname he had adopted for Artonis many seasons ago. In response he ruffled the boy’s hair with his breath. He pulled away from Thedwin and shifted his weight to a more comfortable position before lowering his neck to the ground, tucking his tail against himself. Thedwin traipsed over to him and climbed up to sit on his front leg, using the spikes protruding from the back of Artonis’s leg as steps. He leaned his soft head against the scaled leg, lightly tickling him. Artonis closed his eyes and listened as the boy told him about his day, pausing every so often to consume a bite of the loaf of bread he had brought with him.

The dragon knew a few of the words humans used, but he preferred to stay silent, listening to the boy speak. He occasionally would respond to the boy with a quick projection of his thoughts, but other than that he was silent. He did not like to speak the human’s language, it only served to remind him of his long-lost companion who had once shown him how to speak it. Her interest in the humans had inevitably been her downfall, her curiosity got the better of her and she was killed in her attempt to gain knowledge about their race. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed Thedwin’s stories and company. He never thought he would find himself so attached to a human, and yet, here he was.

Thedwin had finished his loaf and proceeded to climb further onto Artonis, settling himself in the hollow where neck met shoulder, leaning back against one of his great red spikes. Artonis rose, trying not to dislodge the boy as he did.

He turned toward the way that Thedwin had come and began to tread back to the edge of his forest, the Qualm as Thedwin had once told him it was called. During the walk back Thedwin was lulled to a light sleep from the methodical rocking, his gentle snores amusing Artonis.

They reached the edge of the woods and Artonis stopped. He swung his head around to where Thedwin lay and gently nuzzled the boy, waking him from his sleep. Thedwin yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking around sadly.

“Oh, we’re already here.” He mumbled, a frown wrinkling his brow. Artonis snorted finding the boys disappointment amusing. He lightly pressed against the boy’s torso, making him climb down. Once on the ground again, Thedwin glanced up at Artonis then embraced his great leg with both his arms and legs.

“Goodbye Artonis! I’ll see you in a few days!” He let go and ran off, waving goodbye until he tripped and had to look forward. Artonis watched him go, then turned to leave. He paused when he heard twigs snap elsewhere. He swung his head back and surveyed the area. All he saw was Thedwin darting off in the distance, so he brushed it off and returned to his forest.

Throughout the next couple of days Artonis remained within his den, partially slumbering as he listened to the sounds of the forest. As the centuries had progressed, he had less need to eat the older he got. He grew much slower now and required less nutrients to sustain himself, only needing to hunt on occasion.

Four days had gone by when Artonis rose from his slumber. The day was haunted by a windstorm, the tops of the trees far above creaked and groaned under the pressure. Gusts of wind would occasionally make it through the forest, stirring what was usually calm. Upon one such gust Artonis caught a scent that piqued his interest. Blood. He could have easily passed it off as one of the other creatures residing within the forest, but the blood did not belong to prey. It carried the distinct iron smell of human blood.

Rising to his feet Artonis inhaled deeply, trying to pinpoint where the scent had come from. Alarm triggered him into action as thoughts of Thedwin trickled through his mind. He could have been attacked by a creature of the forest on one of his routine visits. His gait was quick as he made his way to the hollow where they usually met.. Thedwin was nowhere to be found and the scent grew stronger. Artonis began to panic then. He continued until he reached the point where the trees thinned into the younger forest, near the place where he would drop Thedwin. The smell filled his nostrils, but he could not see the source, could not see who it was that had been injured. He listened silently for any clue and what he heard made him tense.

Distant screams, terrible screams filled with agony. The sound was quite faint but there was no doubting it. Someone was in severe pain.

Artonis hurried toward the sound, paying no attention to anything other than the cries. They reached a fevered pitch as he drew near, then silence. Artonis stopped, his gaze alighting on a small, disfigured form strapped to a bare tree. Blood covered the creature, multiple wounds releasing the crimson liquid. His sandy blonde hair was stained red, his once friendly green gaze had shifted. He looked like a wild animal on its death bed.

Artonis crept forward, lowering his great head to Thedwin’s ruined body, inhaling the sharp scent of his blood. The boy let out a quiet whimper and Artonis’s sorrowful gaze met his. Thedwin was trying to say something but couldn’t quite make his words form. Artonis touched his conscious, flinching at the wave of pain that flooded through the link. Too late he noticed movement as nets descended from above, the weights dragging Artonis to the ground momentarily. Men appeared from the trees, weapons held aloft as they charged the dragon, throwing ropes over his form to try and trap him. Realization dawned on Artonis. They had captured Thedwin and tortured him to lure the dragon here and kill him. They had mutilated his boy to get to him.

An old anger buried long ago roared to life within him. It erupted out of him in a jet of red flames that engulfed a pair of the men. They screamed and fell to the ground writhing. Artonis released a howl of rage, the sound so loud it shook the very earth. He writhed under the ropes, snapping the material with ease. He let loose another stream of flames, lighting the netting ablaze. He drew himself up to his full height and let his fury rain down upon the men below, their shrieks echoing through the forests as they burned alive.

Artonis clamped his jaws shut, ignoring the carnage surrounding him as he crept back to the boy, his fury dampened by sorrow. He easily snapped the ropes holding Thedwin with a claw, catching the boys limp body gently. He laid him on the ground, Thedwin’s groans of pain were heartbreaking. He hardly managed a weak smile as his gaze alighted upon Artonis, death hanging over him like a dark cloud. The stench was thick, permeating the air with its foreboding smell. As if it was goading Artonis with the inevitable outcome. Then, Thedwin was gone. The life fading from his gaze until he was nothing more than an empty shell.

Artonis lowered his snout gently nudging the boy. His vision blurred as great tears fell to the dirt. His sorrowful crooning filling the silence. He remained motionless for countless hours, perhaps even days. He did not keep track of the amount of time that had passed. All he knew was sorrow, the aching beat of his heart, and the loss of Thedwin.

Finally, he rose. He carved a deep hole into the earth, making it just wide enough for Thedwin’s small form to fit comfortably. He lowered the boy into it and covered his body, anger returning with every pebble that fell onto the boy’s face. By the time he had finished burying Thedwin all he knew was the fury.

He left that place; he did not return to the forest. Instead, he began to descend the path that led down the terraces to the village below. He did not hesitate as people noticed him, screaming and pointing. He did not flinch as men hurled spears at him. He did not pause as he released the flames from his belly, lighting everything ablaze. He felt no empathy as the men, women and children burned, their screams echoing in his ears. Only one thought was seared in his mind. Thedwin.

“When the sun rose over the cliffs of Helgin nothing remained of the village but death and flames. In utter agony, Artonis crawled to the sea caves below and was never seen again.” She closed the book and kissed her son gently on the forehead as she pulled the covers snugly around him. “And that, my dear boy, is why you should always protect those you love and don’t venture too far into the wilds; you never know what may be lurking.”