John Tillery

Chapter 1- Glass Potatoes

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Men didn’t always know how to make gunpowder, magic secrets weren’t sold like an apple-pie recipe, and Human maps didn’t have Halfling towns on them. Change can make a fella anxious. Then again, there wasn’t always sugar in cornbread, iced tea wasn’t a thing ten years ago, and I didn’t use to have as many stories. Change can make things better. There weren’t always dragons in the valley – at first there was only one.

“Ah, damnit, why are they so slimy?” Another overripe fruit had melted in Moh’s hairy little hand.

“I think they'd've been better if we picked 'em a week ago.” I was a little gentler, but I still left fingerprints in most of them.

“I’ve never seen something rot quicker than a strawberry. These things are just sickenin'.”

“I wish we’d grow strawberries again, jam sounds nicer than whatever these are.”

“They're called 'toe-mate-ohs', like potatoes, and I think they do make jam with 'em.”

“What?” I gave Moh a skeptical eyebrow wiggle.

“Yeah, it’s popular with the tall folk up in Yuriksham, from what I hear.”

“So they're sweet then?”

“Dunno. Never had 'em.”

“Let’s try a couple, eh?” We grabbed a couple we thought looked good. I had only sunk my teeth in when the juice hit me. "Mmph, no," I decided I didn’t want to go any further and chucked it over the fence. Moh didn’t care much for 'em either – he let his mouthful roll out onto the ground and kicked dirt on it. “Maybe it’s better as a jam,” I supposed. “What do they put it on?”

“Chicken, I think.”

“Jam on chicken?”

“Yeah. Sounds nasty right?”

“Hard to understand the tall folk.” We went on with harvesting until a little after noon and it was getting too hot for work. We had a few baskets of ‘good’ ones and a whole lot more questionable ones. We loaded our cart, Moh took the reins, and we started rolling towards town. “So, is Ned planning on selling these at the market?”

“He isn’t, from what I know. He’s gonna haul them all the way up to Yuriksham. They got a big exchange up there, it's where he’s been finding all these new crops.”

“Are they gonna keep long enough to sell?”

“If they make it there yeah. They got a big ice box now, with magic keepin' it cold.”

“Magic? How’d they get ahold of a mage anyway? Aren’t they all gathered up someplace secret? Jittering around yelling and throwing sparkles at each other?” I dingled my fingers at Moh menacingly.

“They can make new ones up there now. You remember my cousin Poe? He went down there and got himself hired for it, though they only taught him how to make ice.”

“Ice cream in the summer, I could go for that.”

“We saw a fire show up at the circus when we were there last month. I’d want to do something like that maybe.”

“I got a tinder box you can borrow. Head down to Ned’s silo and strike it a couple times, that’ll get you a good sized fireball.”

“Mages can do it without the tinder box though.” Moh ran his hand through the tall grass, smiled, then put his hat on the seat and we rolled on.

“When are you and Ned makin’ your next trip up there?”

“He plans on midweek if we can get the rest of the harvest done.”

“I don’t think these tomatoes will make it that long, Moh.”

“Well, not our problem, eh?” Moh grinned and we bounced along the little dirt road for a while, just silently enjoying the sun. We were almost to town when Moh started fidgeting with the reigns. “Here. Hold these a bit,” he said, passing them to me.

“Why are these sticky?”

“This tomato slime won’t come out of my hair,” Moh grunted, wiping red streaks onto his button up.

“Cold Creek is a little off the path. We can pull over and you can wash there”

“Are you gonna come with me?”

“No somebody’s got to watch the cart. Why?”

“Winnie and Meg were up here washing bedlinens last week. They said they saw a pair of big shiny eyes watching em’. They left my good quilt down there. It’s probably full of moss and tadpoles by now.”

“Wolf?”I asked. Moh raised his hand high and flat.

“Naw. They said it was up about ten feet in a tree”

“Owl out in the day maybe?”.

“Naw.” He made a circle with his hands at his and brought it up to his eye. “They said big Jeb, real big”

“Well, you can watch the cart and I’ll take my chances, this slime itches. Take back the reins, they aren’t gonna get any dirtier and I don’t think this mule likes me.”

“He’s been talking with your sheep Jeb. He knows,” Mohs chuckled and made an unneighborly gesture with his fingers. I stopped the cart.

“You sure you don’t want to make the trip too?” Moh cupped his hands in front of him, spit in them, and rubbed them together. “You are vermin,” I said as I hopped down from the cart and trotted over to the tree line. Before I stepped in I looked back and Moh looked right at me and wiped his hands on my cushion. The mule looked at me sideways and I continued into the woods. “Animals, the both of you,” I mumbled.

Cold Creek was one of my favorite spots to visit in the summer. It ran out from a cave somewhere up behind Ned’s farm and joined with Miller’s Creek down by the market. You couldn’t swim in it very long and it was a horrible fishing spot, but it was great for laundry, chilling drinks, or just danglin your feet into it on a hot day.

Through the thicket I went, following a deer trail, staying on the lookout out for any eyes in the trees. As I got down by the bank, I rolled up my pants and waded out to until it was about a foot deep. I dipped my hands and let em’ wash in the current until streamers of 'tomato' slime trailed off my fingers in the clear water, leaving them pale. The water was perfect.

I took another look around and there was no one in the trees but the birds. I grabbed a long stick and made my way back to the cart.

Moh was eyeballin' the tree line when I got back. "You see anything funny?” he asked.

I poked the cushion off of my seat with the stick and hopped back up. “Nope, nice a spot as ever. You can still go if you want," I said, hoping he’d take me up on it.

“Naw, I’ll wash in the fountain when we get to the market,” he refused, and off we went again.

Town was never busy outside of holidays and parties. No one really lived there, it was mostly storehouses clustered around the businesses and stalls that made up the square. We had a little inn for visitors but not much beyond that. It was more of a crossroads between farms where everybody met up to barter, chat, and drink.

Moh was looking up and down for somebody to chatter with, though he was really wanting to rib Winnie about frogs picnicking on his blankets. He slowed the cart when we were passing her stall but it hadn’t even been set for the day. We noticed none of the others along the way were set either. “Reckon they're on the square?” I said, because I thought something needed saying. It was getting eerie quiet by the time we reached Ned’s storehouse.

“Could be. Got to be a big show to get everyone to close up shop on a market day,” Moh said shading his eyes with one hand and letting the reins dangle loose in the other. “Might be a caravan in town from Yuriksham or Loorlun.” We pulled up to the doors and started unloading the baskets. I kept an ear out for any hint of where everyone was.

“Sales folk are usually louder,” I said. We were still a good bit away from the square, but we should've been able to hear something.

Humans were the worst about being noisy on the square. Usually, they would roll in on a fancy polished wood cart bellowing into a horn “Look here, look here!” Then they would bring out some showmen. One time they were selling hair tonic and they brought out a round fella stripped down barely decent and shaved smooth as an egg. They would dump a bucket of the tonic on him and the whole town would watch his hair grow out only for them to shear him like a sheep in front of everyone. They did this about a dozen times over the course of the day, and nearly everybody in the valley gathered around to watch. The eggman was eating wheel after wheel of cheese in between shearings, but he somehow got thinner through the show. Folk bought the stuff by the barrel and then nearly rioted when they figured out it only worked on people, not sheep. Why the humans didn’t think to make a sheep formula was beyond me. It made me wonder if humans filled their pillows with their own hair, it sounds like the kind of thing they would do. Moh thought it would be funny to dip his hands in a bucket of the stuff and draw a mustache on his baby brother with it. Bart looked like a dwarf-child from then on, and Moh always got hair in his food. If Humans were in town, we would have heard them already.

We locked up Ned's storehouse and hitched the mule. I could feel the mule's stare as we walked away.

“Let’s check the square.” Moh didn’t need to convince me, and we made our way there. To our relief, we saw familiar hats and bonnets around the edge of the square. It looked like a crowd was up there. “Maybe it is a show. Let’s see what’s got 'em dumbfounded.” Moh cut out running the rest of the way. I saw him stop on his heels when he got to the edge of the square. He turned and looked back at me with his eyes bugged out. He made a circle with his hands at his waist and shuffled over to a stall just at the edge of where the square opens up. I knew I had to see. I eased up to edge of the square where Moh stood at first.

I saw it.

I was stunned by the size of it. A behemoth of some kind stood by the edge of the fountain in the square. It cast a long shadow over the fountain.

I joined Moh by the stall. “What is that?” I whispered.

“I don’t know, but did you see the eyes?” Moh whispered back as we pretended to be shopping over a bin of apples.

“No, it wasn’t looking at me. It’s at least four goats tall isn’t it?”

Moh nodded. “Try and get a peek at the eyes, they’re huge!”

I held up an apple for scale. Moh reached a couple bins over and picked up a cantaloupe. I peeked over my shoulder a couple times, but it never looked our way when I looked at it.

Putting the apple back down, I quietly greeted the grocer, "Hullo, Elias."

“Hullo, Elias,” Moh echoed me.

“Hullo, boys,” he said, tipping his hat.

We all shifted nervously for a bit before I got the nerve to ask. “Do you know what’s going on Eli?”

“It showed up around eight. Just walked on up to the fountain and stood there. Everybody trickled in from around after that and we’ve all just been watching.”

Everybody was doing like us, pretending to shop. Some moved from stall to stall trying to get a better view. Moh and I liked that idea. We moved around the stalls in a ring, taking in more and more of the creature from a distance. It was brown and scaly, it didn’t look like the kind of thing that was supposed to be standing up on two legs. It looked like a horse with the wrong legs attached, almost like bird legs as thick as a tree trunk. Its arms just as long but spindlier and attached at the front of its torso instead of the side. Its tail hung down over the fountains edge and into the water. Two growths that looked like a bundled up tent stuck out of its back where the shoulders were and a ridge of darker scales ran from its tails tip to its spine. I still hadn't seen the face.

Eventually we made our way around to the baker's stall and the smell set my mouth to watering and I decided to buy a butter roll. My stomach rumbled and everybody standing around us jumped a little in their skin. I reached out to grab one from the basket and I saw Moh’s hairy hand trailing mine. Without thinking I said, “Aren’t you gonna wash your hands first?” He cut his eyes at me, and it looked like he might slap me.

“No cart to watch this time,” he said. I cut my eyes back. I knew. We both nodded and turned, facing the fountain directly. I could feel the towns gaze on us. Step by step, we got closer. We got to the edge and it hadn't noticed us yet. We were only about a quarter of the fountain away from the creature. Moh dipped his hands in and I watched the tiny ripples careen towards the tail. I swear I could hear them as they struck it.

I looked up and saw its face for the first time.

Its face was a strange mixture of horse, lizard, and bird. It had a long mouth with sharp yellow teeth hanging out of the sides of it and a bone white beak at the tip. Its forehead was bumpy and uneven. Its eyes were huge, and I’d never seen quite the color before. They were brown with strange little black freckles all over and a black slit for a pupil in the middle. It’s strange to say, but they looked like glass potatoes with pupils.

I realized I was staring openly and it was doing likewise to me. “Hullo” I said.

Its eyes started wiggling like it was thinking on something hard before it's mouth cracked open just a little and spoke without moving. It's voice was deep as a drum and snappy like breaking timber. “Hello,” their throat bobbed.

I tried to remember my manners, but all I could think to say was, “I’m Jebediah.” Their eyes started wiggling again. They probably only took a second to answer, but I could feel my hair goin' grey.

“John,” he said. And that would be the start of it. I hadn’t put the pieces together yet, but I was talking to a dragon. John, a damn odd name for a dragon that was.