Oracles are Sometimes Wrong

To say that Athantaleus was perturbed would be a great understatement. Generally cantankerous in his daily life, the presence of the screaming, crying human toddler sitting in front of him was particularly grating on his delicate ears. With the break in the cold weather they had been experiencing this early autumn, he had been looking forward to doing some more hunting to stock up for the cold times. However, he doubted that any animal was around for miles with the racket the child was making. Athantaleus flexed his wings in annoyance, which only caused the crying to increase in volume.

“Oh, would you cease that horrible racket?!” Athantaleus muttered to himself, sinking down low to the ground to hopefully make his form appear less terrifying (a hard feat to accomplish when you are a fourteen foot tall dragon). The child merely continued to cry. Not that he was expecting an answer from the wailing child, mind you. In his seven hundred and eighty three years living on this planet, he had come to the conclusion that humans were by far some of the most repressed and stupid creatures to have ever walked the earth. Whereas dragon offspring picked up language within the first few months of life, it appeared that humans took many years to master that skill. How they managed to dominate the lands Athantaleus called home was one of the few mysteries that still eluded him.

The scales on his belly scraped uncomfortably across the dirt ground as he slowly slunk towards the child. The young girl’s cries had quieted down somewhat, though tears still left salty tracks down her face. Her eyes were blown wide with terror. Athantaleus halted his slow creep and raised his head.

“Where are your parents, little one?” he asked, looking around the small clearing. Surely, they must be around. Athantaleus wasn’t worried about being attacked (he hadn’t survived to the ripe old age that he was based on luck), but he was getting rather frustrated with the lack of parental control they seemed to have over their dramatic offspring. He craned his neck around, and closed his eyes, listening for the tell-tale heartbeat of another human. He was met only with silence. He opened his eyes and looked back at the toddler. She was no longer making any noise at all, but sat instead with her head cocked to the side looking up at him. Unconsciously, Athantaleus mirrored her. The girl giggled, clapping her hands together. Athantaleus felt a smile pulling at his lips, which he quickly dispelled when he realized that on a face like his a smile had a tendency to appear more like a threatening snarl than a declaration of joy. Still, the girl did not seem to take notice. Apparently having cried herself out, she now sat plucking at the grass in front of her.

Athantaleus lowered himself back down and continued to creep forward, until his head was only a few feet away from the toddler. She looked up, but the terror from before had been replaced with unabashed curiosity. He leaned forward the last few feet and bumped her with the end of his snout, eliciting another round of laughter from her. The orange light seemed to dance along her dark hair, signaling that the sun was beginning its descent to the horizon of the world. Athantaleus’s eyebrows furrowed. He could smell it in the air: the crisp, cold snap of a frost just waiting to come. The child wouldn’t make out here, all alone, and, despite his repeated protests, Athantaleus was not that heartless as to abandon a literal child out in the middle of nowhere. Well, nothing for it. He would fly the little one back to the village a few miles away, then head back to his home. Sure his mate would be a little disappointed by the lack of fresh meat, but a simple massage and some cuddling would dissuade his anger. Athantaleus sat back on his haunches and gingerly picked up the girl, who had seemingly fallen asleep. He pulled her close to his chest, as he knew that flying could get quite cold for someone unequipped like the child dressed in rags and, with a quick thrust of his wings, he rose into the air.

The journey to the village was quick, although the heavy volume of air rushing past them had woken the girl up and caused her to begin crying again (which Athantaleus really wished she would stop doing). Circling the village once, he spotted a field just north and plopped himself down.

“See, we are back on the ground; now stop that caterwalluping!” he exclaimed as he set the girl down on the grass. She took a few wet, heaving breaths more before quieting down and pressing herself closer to Athantaleus. The dragon shrugged to himself and surveyed the scene, trying to determine the best way to get the attention of someone without accidentally causing pandemonium or extensive property damage. However, it seemed as though fate was being kind today.

“Hey!” he heard a gruff voice exclaim from his right. The dragon turned his body towards the noise and noticed an angry old man standing with his hands on his hips in the doorway of the small building that Athantaleus had honestly thought was a shed. “What the hell are you doing sitting in my potato field?”

The dragon looked below him and noticed the little mounds of newly tilled dirt. “Oops,” he laughed. “Sorry about that, but we were in a bit of a rush.”

The man angrily stared back at him. “I bet you were, you damn beast.”

“Now, there’s no need for that sort of language, especially in front of a child,” Athantaleus snapped.

“What child? I don’t see a child.”

“Oh, yes, well she has tucked herself quite close to me for the moment, but” Athantaleus shifted his wings to reveal the small toddler crouched against his stomach, “I was wondering if you could help me find this one’s parents.” The toddler turned towards the angry man, and Athantaleus saw the blood drain from his face.

“Oh Lumis preserve us!” he shouted, clutching the pendant around his neck in a meaty hand.

Athantaleus scoffed. “She’s not that terrible. I do wish she would stop crying, but-”

“No. You don’t understand.” The man’s eyes darted around the field. “The oracles said that she was cursed. She will bring nothing but destruction to the world. Why have you brought her back?!”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave a child out in the woods. Besides, oracles? Aren’t they those people that get high and dream up things? You humans still really believe them?” Athantaleus knew magic more intimately than most creatures of the land, and in all of his life, he had never once met an oracle who had accurately predicted anything they hadn’t rigged themselves.

“That thing will bring you nothing but trouble,” the man spat. “Throw it back where you found it and let the wolves have at her. Or, I guess you could take care of our problem for us if you are so inclined.”

Athantaleus recoiled in disgust. “Certainly not!” he balked. “Even if she wasn’t human, I would never eat a child. What kind of a monster do you take me for?” The man scanned the dragon up and down and shrugged. Athantaleus scoffed in disgust. “Unbelievably rude. Now, if you would just direct us to the mayor of this fine town, I’m sure we could get this all settled.”

“Don’t bother. Mayor’s the one who sent her away in the first place. Like I said, she’ll be the death of us all if she lives through the morning.” The man abruptly moved toward them, and Athantaleus instinctively curled his wings back around the girl.

“Right. Well, since everyone here seems to be suffering from some sort of delusion, I guess we’ll be going.” The man grunted and turned back into the ramshackle cabin, slamming the door.

The flight to his cave was blessedly silent. When Athantaleus set the girl down on the ground, her legs crumpled, and she rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day.” Athantaleus gingerly placed her on his back and walked into the comforting warmth of his home. His mate, Svian, was curled up on a pile of leaves, gingerly flipping through a large, dusty pile of scrolls. He glanced up as Athantaleus entered and smiled widely.

“Hello dearest,” Svian said cheerfully. He got up from his pile and made his way over, nuzzling Athantaleus. “How was the hunt? Seems like you couldn’t catch anything,” he said slyly. Athantaleus nudged him in mock annoyance.

“Ran into a bit of a kerfuffle.”

“Really? What was it? Did a big bad deer take you down, or…oh.” Svian stopped abruptly as Athantaleus set the toddler down. She sleepily gazed up as Svian, and Athantaleus could see his heart melting. His mate had always had a soft spot for children.

“She’s precious! Wherever did you find her?” Svian bent down his head, nuzzling the girl and nearly passing out from excitement when she giggled and hugged his face in response.

“Stole her from a crying woman,” Athantaleus intoned flatly. Svian shot him a glare, after which Athantaleus began to laugh. “Kidding dearest. I found her in the woods. Tried to return her to the village, but turns out humans continue to be the least intelligent creatures in this land and believe her to be the harbinger of death and destruction.”

“This little thing?” Svian had gingerly picked the girl up and was rubbing his face along the length of her body. “No possible chance. She’s much too cute to be evil!”

“I don’t know. She is pretty gangly.”

“Oh hush now. Don’t listen to a thing he says, little one. You are perfect.” The girl yawned in response, and Svian once again broke out into a smile. “Well, best to put you down for the night. Let’s see.” The two dragons looked around the cave. After all, humans rarely visited (apart from the wandering wizard or sorceress and one very cranky old lady who stopped by regularly to complain about the state of her turnips), and it wasn’t as though they had ever thought they would need a human cradle for anything before. Athantaleus spotted a long wooden chest, used to hold some of the scrolls that Svian so fancied reading, and began emptying it of its contents. As he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed Svian digging through the pile of blankets he had collected over the years, still clutching the child to his chest like human mothers did with their babies. After selecting a few that he deemed to be suitable, Svian lined the box and gently set the little girl inside. She immediately curled up on her side, clutching the edge of one of the blankets in her hands.

“How cute!” Svian squealed.

“Don’t get attached. I’m planning on talking with the enclave in the morning to see what they suggest.” Dragons, unlike the common image, were not solitary creatures. They generally lived together, with each family occupying a cave that was then connected through twisting tunnels to the others.

“Vira will know what to do,” Svian stated. Vira was the leader of their enclave, a powerful and wise dragon who had been around for millenia and was begrudgingly fulfilling her duty as elected leader of the enclave (a position that she neither asked for, nor wanted, as she would tell everyone who would listen). Svian sighed sadly, looking down on the now sleeping girl.

“It’s a shame we can’t have our own.”

“Not unless you’ve been hiding something from me,” Athantaleus snickered slyly and received a whack upside the head for it.

“For shame! In front of a child!”

“Well, if you believe that nonsense that the humans in town were spouting, she’s evil incarnate, so I think a few lewd suggestions made around her are fine.” Athantaleus snuggled down on the bed of leaves and lifted his wing up invitingly. Svian hurried over and snuggled against his mate.

“You know,” Svian said quietly, pulling the chest with the sleeping toddler closer and letting his tail curl around it protectively, “if her parents really did get rid of her, she might not have anyone. We could always keep her. Raise her up to be a good person.”

“Let’s sleep now and see what tomorrow brings,” Athantaleus said, closing his eyes and drifting off into a dream about stealing an actual bed from that horrible town for the little one sleeping beside them.

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General Horvan’s boots squelched as he walked through the blood and viscera that littered the town’s streets. His soldiers, grizzled from years of war, stood staring back at him. They had searched the town thoroughly, but the child had not been found.

“Sir,” one of his commanding officers, Nia, shouted with a salute. “There is no sign of Kataria within this village.”

Horvan gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Deep in his heart, he had known it wouldn’t have been that easy.

“If I may sir?” stated one of the petty officers, stepping forward. Horvan turned to look at her. “While investigating a farm at the edge of the village, we encountered a man who claimed that the child was last spotted with a dragon.”

“Interesting. I have heard of an enclave of dragons that lives in the mountains in these woods” Horvan said. He turned and waved his army off to begin setting up camp on the outskirts of town. As the masses dispersed, Nia remained.

“Sir?”

Horvan sighed. “Yes Officer Nia?”

“Sir, are we sure we are doing the right thing? I mean, she’s just a child.”

“A child with the power to destroy the world as we know it,” he snapped back before taking a breath and calming down.

“And what about these villagers? Did they all need to die?”

“We have our orders, Nia.” He looked around at the rivers of blood that stained the dirt paths. “War demands dealing in lesser evils. And if there is even a chance that the legends are true, and that the girl is going to be the end of all things, then it’s a chance I am not willing to take. And neither should you.”

Nia nodded her head tersely and, with a brief salute, marched off towards the sea of newly erected tents to the west. Horvan once again pushed down the churning feeling deep in his gut, and wiped his sword on the tattered remains of a shirt still hanging on the line to dry, his gaze gradually drifting to the mountain he could see just cresting over the trees.