Dragon Masters

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. And I used to be able to enjoy a lunch outside without my fries being stolen by one either, but here we are. I tried to swat away the little thief, but the winged lizard kept nipping at my hand. Exasperated, I pulled off a chunk of my beef wrap and tossed it into the grass of the quad. The yellow spotted dragon attempting to steal my whole lunch, launched itself after it. I picked up the remainder of my lunch and fled the scene. You’re not supposed to feed wild animals, but I just wanted to be left alone. Who ever that thing pesters next, I’m sorry.

Retreating into the arcane mechanics building, I decided to just eat in the relative safety of my next lecture hall. Passing other students, and professors, I made my way into the lecture hall of my next class, ‘History of Arcane Mechanics’.

Thirty rows of empty seats faced a small stage under a blank projection screen. I unloaded my books into the nearest seat and sat in the next one over, balancing my wrap and fries in my lap. The lecture hall was always empty before my two o’clock class, and I used to eat in here all the time during the winter, but when the weather started to warm up, I thought I could eat outside. Stupid dragons.

Ever since the last war, The Great Magician War, dragons fled their homes on the mountains and began infesting the cities in the Kaleen Valleys, Torren included. The dragons wouldn’t have swarmed the city if the army hadn’t blown up the mountain top. The forests on the mountain acted like a natural barrier between us and the dragons. But there’s no use in crying about it now. I still want to eat my lunch outside in the sun and cool spring air.

Finally settled in and ready to eat, the beef wrap in between my teeth, the door behind me slammed open and The Behemoth walked in. Scared the crap out of me, nearly dropped my wrap. The Behemoth, or Thomas Link, lived up to his nickname. Six and a half feet tall, all muscle. Runes and arcane circles tattooed his arms; most probably on his back, hidden under his skin tight black t-shirt. Thomas was Noreen University’s top magi-ball player. I’ve seen him play; he’s fast, strong, and a master in hand-to-hand combat. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went pro when he graduates.

He looked down at me, his gold eyes softly glowing. “Sup, Vik.” He greeted me with a nod of his head.

He stomped down the steps of the lecture hall and took a seat a few rows ahead of me. I couldn’t help but notice his neck was way too thick for his head. As I thought it, he turned around in his seat and stared at me. “What’s up, Thomas?” I asked.

Thomas sniffed and scratched his nose. He looked like he was about to yell at me or something. Yeah, I’ve seen him around school and seen him play, but I’ve never talked to him or hung out with him or anything. I’ve never really gotten a chance to get to know him. In his deep graveled voice, he asked, “Am I late for class?”

I held in a laugh and answered honestly, “No, man. Class isn’t for another hour. I just came in here to eat.”

He swore under his breath and nodded slowly. Turning away, he pulled a small bag of dried beef strips out of his bag and started to gnaw on one. He looked like he was enjoying it. I decided to eat as well and soon enough, my meal was finished without interruption. I pulled out my scribe and tapped my finger on it’s face. The glass filled with light and windows of information appeared in the air in front of me. Sliding my hands through the projected displays, I moved them around, going through mail and News stories. Apparently, the Torren Gargoyles’ coach was caught giving his team illegal magical enhancements. Some sort of performance enhancing spell that left its users at high risk of brain damage. Magi-ball allowed most kinds of magic to be used during the game, but anything that could permanently cripple or kill a player was highly restricted. I think Thomas’ favorite spell to use on the field was a reinforcement spell, turning himself into a charging tank.

“Is that story about the Gargoyles?” A feminine voice said behind me.

I jerked my head around to meet the gaze of Gwen Noreen, granddaughter of the university’s founder. Her long-pointed ears poked out of her long neon blue hair. I think she dyed her hair based on her mood. Alchemic hair dyes were becoming more popular with women nowadays. But her eyes, soft and pale, the color of a mid-summer sky and endless. “Sports fan, are we?” She asked?

“Uh… y-yeah. Sure.” I stumbled out. She was so close to my face, I could smell her perfume; strawberries, I think.

She stepped over the seat in her skinny jeans and purple blouse. Her bag dropping in the seat next to her. “So, what are you doing here so early?” She queried.

I closed all the windows floating above my scribe and put the device away. I looked over at her exasperated, “Dragons tried to steal my lunch. So, I hid.”

Her small nose scrunched, “Don’t be mean to the dragons. They used to be the top of the food chain, bigger than buildings and stronger than entire armies.”

“And now they’re the size of rats and steal scraps from poor college students trying to eat before class. Yes, majestic beasts they are.” I retorted.

Thomas turned around, putting a giant arm around the row of seats, “You know the dragons being all big and scary before is a myth, right. Why aren’t there any big ones now?” A valid question.

Another set of footsteps walked into the lecture hall, and an answer to Thomas’ question followed, “That is because the dragons are not bound.”

I craned my neck to see the Professor of my history class, Dr. Noreen, Gwen’s father. He towered over me and Gwen, looking down at Thomas. “Dragons are not just flying lizards. They are magical beasts, and symbiotic ones at that. To be, as Gwen has put it, ‘as big as a building’, they must be bound to a master.” He braced his hands behind his back as he walked toward the stage, his long white hair pulled back into a horse tail waving. “A bonded dragon is capable of pulling magical power from their master allowing it to grow in power and size. And in return, the master is able to harness the powers of a dragon. If the records are to be believed, a dragon master were fire proof, stronger than a hundred men, and other powers granted to them by their specific type of dragon. Though, a dragon hasn’t bonded with a master in over five hundred years. They’ve been hiding on that mountain for so long, isolated. While in exile, their numbers have certainly grown, so I suspect we may see another dragon master in the near future.”

Curious, I asked, “Then why isn’t dragon mastering a practiced magic? Wouldn’t everyone want to get their hands on that kind of power?”

His long ears twitched, standing behind the podium on the stage. Leaning on it, he smiled, “That’s because, only the dragons can choose a master. As far as we can tell, there is no magic capable of bonding, or enslaving dragons against their wills. Even when my father was a child, the better part of a thousand years ago when magic was stronger, dragons rarely bonded with anyone. Dragons were notoriously picky when choosing a master, but when they did, there wasn’t a force capable of stopping them. Nations fell under dragons and dragon masters. Legends were born and with those legends long passed, they are commonly considered myth now. So much time has passed that even now, we can no longer prove that dragons are even capable of bonding with a master.”

Gwen crossed her arms, “Aren’t you just an arcana machine history teacher?”

“Doctor, Gwen. I’m a doctor, and even your stuffy old man has hobbies. Now please, call me professor, or doctor while on campus.” He admonished her.

“Would dragon magic be legal in magi-ball?” Thomas asked, raising his hand.

Before Dr. Noreen had a chance to answer or even contemplate his question, Multiple chatting and laughing students trotted in the lecture hall, effectively cutting off our topic of conversation. And within ten minutes of hustling students, eager to learn, the class of endless excitement of the history of the arcane arts being implemented into mechanical electrical sciences began. Could you hear the sarcasm in my voice? I hope so.

An hour and three sleeping students later, the lecture hall emptied out. Braving out into the quad, Gwen accompanying me. Dozens of students littered the grassy artificial hills, groups hanging out under trees. There was even the stereotypical guy playing a guitar surrounded by a gaggle of girls listening intently. I thought stuff like that happened only in movies.

As we walked, Gwen tapped on her scribe at break neck speeds. Without looking up, she asked, “Hey, Vik. Are you busy today?”

“Not particularly. Why? Need something?”

She hummed in affirmation, “I need some help building the power node for my automaton. I can’t get the power regulation under control. Look.”

With a few taps, she pulled up a recording on a hovering display over her scribe. A video of a small mechanical frog sat lifeless on what I assumed was Gwen’s personal desk. Gwen’s voice came over the video, “Okay… test number one hundred twenty-three. Power node alteration number one hundred eight. Programing node alteration number ninety-eight. And execution node configuration number fifteen. Begin test.”

A hand came into view, holding a small metal disk the size of a small button. She displayed the metal disk to the camera, a power node composed of runes aligned in multiple intersecting circles. After the hand attached the disk to the bronze frog, it started to shutter. After a moment of vibrating, the frog began to move. Hopping in and out of frame, the automaton seemed to be working perfectly. A gasp came from out of frame, “It’s working, it’s hopping!”

Spoken too soon. The frog began to glow, leaving burn marks in the desk’s wooden top wherever it made contact. Recorded Gwen started panicking, saying “No, no, no!” And in mid hop, the frog exploded into a pile of melting cogs and small metal bones. The frog’s head no where to see. With a deep sigh from Gwen, she finished the video with, “Test number one hundred twenty-three… failure. The power node overloaded the entire array and caused a complete melt down… obviously…” The video ended.

I turned to the current Gwen and winced, “One hundred and twenty-three frogs? That’s a lot of dead frogs.”

“Yeah, I know it’s a lot of dead frogs. I just don’t know what I’m wrong. The program and execution nodes are fully capable of controlling the power. I just don’t get what’s causing the meltdown.” She vented.

I thought on it for a minute, “Okay… either your power node’s resistor is off or the frog’s materials aren’t inherently strong enough to handle to flow of power.”

“I don’t know… would you mind taking a look at it, at least?” She pleaded.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. You got the full array copied down, right?”

She nodded, her blue hair bobbing, “Of course. I have the copies in my grimoire. So, my house, seven?”

“Sure. I’ll bring snacks. Bread twists and icing?”

Her mouth watered dramatically from the mention of bread twists. The first time I brought her a box from the bakery in the sixteenth ward, she scarfed down the whole box in ten minutes. You should have seen her when she found out you could get them with icing. “Umm… yeah, yeah. Sounds good.” She said, snapping out of her sugar dream. “Anyway, I have math next. I’ll see you later, Vik.”

“Yeah, see you later.” I said, waving her off as she walked through the doors of the math and science building.

As the door closed, I saw my reflection in the glass. I had dried ketchup from my fries, smeared across my face. Gwen could have told me. I followed her into the building, and ducked into the men’s restroom. I with a paper towel and water from the sink, I scrubbed my cheek furiously in the bathroom mirror.

After the ketchup smear was gone, I looked at the face of a rather dashing young man, if I do say so myself. I’m kidding. He was pale, and his greasy brown hair poked out from under a beanie. Hazel eyes and a pimple over his left eyebrow stared back at me. He really needed to take better care of himself. Less sugary drinks, more water and some exercise would do him some good. I pulled off my glasses and wiped down the glass with the hem of my shirt. Putting them back on, I couldn’t help but hoping to see someone better looking in the mirror. Disappointed, I took one last inspection before going back into the outside world.

Later that night, I left the sweet-smelling bakery two boxes of bread twists in hand. The sky grew darker, the sun dipping behind the shaved mountains. The smell of the fresh pastries tempting me to dig in early, but I must be strong. I’ll get a few later, that is if Gwen leaves me some.

Walking down the side walk, the nearby shops turned on their outdoor lights one at a time. The side walk and road illuminated in bright lights of shimmering gold and white. Other pedestrians walked past me, some talking on their scribes or chatting with, who I assumed to be, their significant others. I passed a dark alley, the space between a dress shop and a book store. Something down the alley crashed, the sound of metal clanging against concrete.

I should just leave; go to Gwen’s and ignore anything that might cause bodily harm to me. That would be the most logical and understanding action. So, why was I walking down the cliché death trap? I’ve read so many books and seen so many movies where the protagonists all walk down dark, cramped alleys just because of an unknown noise and gotten themselves in more trouble than the curiosity was worth. We’ve all seen this happen, we all know what happens, so why is a creepy dark alley so alluring.

Not entirely stupid, I pulled out my scribe and tapped on the glass until a bright light emanated from it. I directed the light down the path. Trash cans, garbage bags and stacked boxes lined the walls. Trash littered the ground from what I guessed was the sound that pulled me in to begin with. Searching for the culprit of the noise, I asked, “Hello? Is there anyone back here?”

Hello Friday night news, I’m looking forward to being a guest on the missing persons segment.

After no response, I dug a little deeper into the darkness. Feeling guilty about stepping over the fallen trash, I crouched down and picked up everything and returned it into a fallen can. Satisfied I had done my good deed for the day, a shadow dashed out and knocked over the garbage can. “Hey!” I complained.

More than startled, I was more upset over something making a mess after I just finished cleaning up. I swept my scribe around, looking for whatever dared oppose me. “Whatever you are, come on out. You’re gonna help me clean this up.” I demanded.

Hidden behind a cardboard box, a pitch-black tail swished back and forth. Slowly, I approached the small beast and lunged for it. Holding it by the tail, the darker than night dragon wiggled, trying to escape my grasp. I sat the boxes of bread twists down and grabbed the little beast by its front legs.

Manhandling the little monster, I forced the dragon to pick up every piece of trash it knocked down, even when it tried to nip and bite my hands. “I don’t care if you used to be the most powerful beasts in the world, you will not undo the hard work I do. So, you made the mess, you’re going to clean it up.”

Together we, or more like I, picked up the garbage for the second time tonight. The dragon was more like going along for the ride, but I used his devious little claws to pick up everything. I held the dragon by the base of its wings, keeping it from flying off, until I noticed something wrong with it. The thin gray skin of it’s bat like wings, was ripped and coated in dried blood. I didn’t notice it until now mainly because it’s so dark and I looked at it in anger. I can’t imagine what the dragon got itself into, but it didn’t come out unscathed.

Now I felt bad. I pulled a bread twist out of my box and squeezed the soft pastry. I questioned if I could give this to a dragon, but what could it really hurt? “Here, try this.” I said as I put the bread under its nose. Sniffing it, the dragon took it in it’s tiny teeth and hung there, tail swishing. “Oh yeah, sorry.” I sat the dragon down and it scurried off further down the alley.

Now that that was over, and more time waisted than I would’ve liked, I started to leave the alley and tried to make up lost time on my way to Gwen’s house. I’m excited to blow up some metal frogs.

Tap tap scratch

It was following me. The dragon, that is. Did it want more food?

Tap tap tap

I started walking faster. I wasn’t going to risk showing up to the pastry fiend without her offerings.

Tap scratch scratch

Crap. It was getting closer. Back alley’s are always bad, and I knew that going into it.

Tap tap tap tap tap tap scratch

It hit my back, knocking me to the ground. I could feel its tiny claws digging into my back, tearing up my jacket and shirt and even my skin in an instant. I tried to scream for help, but the impact knocked the air right out of me and the searing pain kept me from breathing in.

Small squeaks and hisses came from the dragon as it tried to dig a burro in my very being. My whole body felt like it was on fire, each scratch an inferno of pain. I tried to crawl away, but my limbs wouldn’t move. I couldn’t die here, eaten alive by some butt hurt dragon.

Tears blurred my vision; the pain sending pulses of angry fire throughout my body. I was starting to black out, unable to call for help, unable to reach the demon trying to kill me, weak and useless. I’m going to die here, killed by a lizard the size of a cat. If I was as strong as Thomas, or as sensible as Gwen, I wouldn’t be in this mess. I’m sorry Gwen… you’ll have to go hungry tonight.

With the dragon still digging into me, and the burning pain engulfing me, I blacked out. Darkness swallowing my mind and my dying body, lying on a death bed of bread twists and garbage.