Sleeping Dogs: The First Knight

Many years ago...

"Long Ago, and far away from our little valley, there was a land shrouded in eternal mists. Strange creatures roamed this land, hunting any humans that wandered into their domain. Yet, they too were hunted, for in this land another, greater creature roamed. The beat of its wings was like thunder, and its roar like an earthquake! Its breath could ignite forests, and its eyes gleamed with a fierce fire!"

 "Well? So which is it?" The grouchy and slurred remark broke the old man's spell. Young Thomas glanced up at the ruddy face of Matt the cobbler, his coarse unshaven face red and blotchy from his third tankard. "Was it the eyes or the breath that was fire?"

 Old Keith's worn features wrinkled further in a scowl. He turned back to his audience, his voice pulling Tom and the other children back to that distant land.

 "This creature is one you've all heard of before! It is the Great Blue Dragon of the Misty Valleys, who's name is as long as its life!"

 "What does that mean, Sir?"

 Old Keith smiled at this interruption. "What does what mean, Clem?"

 "The boy asked what you're blabbering on about!" Matt hiccupped, still trying to drink from his long empty tankard. Old Keith glared again at the man. Then, miraculously, from seemingly thin air, conjured a small copper coin! The children laughed, as he made it look as though it was trying to jump out of his hands to escape. The children giggled and clapped at his frantic looking antics, before he finally trapped it firmly in his palms. "Matthew, if I were to give you this shiny copper to look after, do you suppose you could be quiet until my story is done?"

Matt grunted, leaning over the wooden table to take the coin. Though Old Keith gave it willingly, it kept trying to jump out of Matt's hand back to Keith's, making the children laugh even harder! Even some of the other grown-ups in the room were enjoying the show! At last, Matt managed to keep the coin trapped in his own hand, and he stalked away to the bar, glaring around at the stifled chortles around the tavern. After a while, the children settled back down onto the rug-covered cobbles of the hearth. Smiling, Old Keith looked back at the children, looking each of them in the eye until...

 "What was your question, Clem?"

Clem Baker blushed, and hunched his shoulders in embarrassment. But at a nudge from Thomas, he puffed out his chest, and spoke again. "What does it mean, that its name is as long as its life?"

 Nodding, kindly, Old Keith answered as if it were part of his story. "A Dragon's name is his life's story, in their language. They do not give their children names, like your parents named you. Instead, their names are made by themselves, by simply living!" He placed a finger next to his nose, winking. "But I happen to know the very first part of the Blue Dragon's name, children." Everyone sighed in awe at this, though they all had heard him tell this story plenty of times. Yet Old Keith looked around, conspiratorially, then whispered loud enough for even the larger children at the back to hear:

"Gaudnnyx!"

 Giddy with anticipation, several children raised their hands to ask the next question in the story! Thomas leaned his hand as high up as he could, but at last, Old Keith pointed at Mara, the mayor's daughter, at the very back. "Yes Mara?"

 "Please sir, what does 'Gaudnnyx' mean?"

 "Ah, Mara, it means 'Under a crescent moon, on a clear night, in the autumn months.' That part of his name tells us when he hatched! And the next part would tell us when he first flew, and after that, what he first hunted!"

 "So, what are those parts of his name?" Mara's brother Roth called out, ignoring the tradition of being called on. But Old Keith just smiled and shrugged. "Who knows? Not I! Dragons live for hundreds and hundreds of years, and they can add to their name any number of times in just one! Why, even if I knew his full name, I would likely be sitting here until next harvest reciting the whole thing." He scooted up his stool, and leaned forward. "So, for now, we shall just call him, 'The Blue Dragon.'"

 "The Blue Dragon had lived for a long time, longer than any grown-up here in Kinvale. And yet by a dragon's age, he was still very young. He was feared by all creatures, both fair and fel, and would sleep brazenly under the stars at night. Back in those times, we were a much lesser people. In fact, we didn't even have a kingdom! Villages fended for themselves, and no friendship could last between them in those trying times.

 Then, one day, The Blue Dragon awoke to a strange sound. He looked down to see a small child, not older than four or five years. The child had fallen asleep, nestled in the folds of his wings. And, well, what would any creature do if it woke up with some small pest in its bed! Shake it off, or swat it away, I would imagine. And yet, some strange instinct stayed it, and it did not lash out, or buck the child free. It stayed there, staring at it for some time, as the sun crept higher, and the mists thinned just slightly. He wondered where this child had come from? Had it wandered from one of their villages? Were its parents looking for it? Or had they been lost or killed, in the land of mists? At last, the child stirred, and as it opened its eyes, it looked right into the fiery eyes of The Blue Dragon.

 The Blue Dragons eyes were large as tankards, deep as wells, gold as a sunset, and they blazed with the fury of the sun at noon! And yet, the child did not blink, did not look away. It looked deep into The Blue Dragon's eyes, and at that moment, a connection was made. A connection deeper than any bond of blood could forge. And from that day on, the child's eyes were as golden as The Blue Dragon's. And thus, the first Knight was born! The Cobalt Knight!"

 Thomas watched as Old Keith gesticulated, narrating the story as much through movement as words. He looked around as the other children latched onto each and every one of Keith’s words, even Mara’s brothers, who were older and bigger than a lot of the rest! He tried to catch Mara’s eye, but she too was entranced by Old Keith’s story.

“To this day, we do not know where this child came from. Some say they were a gift to the Blue Dragon from Her Above, for after they became the Cobalt Knight, they went on to have many adventures, and eventually helped forge the kingdoms! Only, instead of ruling for themselves, the Cobalt Knight and The Blue Dragon chose only to protect the kingdom they created. The first King and Queen were chosen, and thus our Kingdom was forged!”

At this last proclamation, Old Keith jumped up onto his chair, bowing as everyone in the room applauded! Yet though the story was over, the other children were already asking more questions, as was tradition!

“Is the Cobalt Knight still alive now?”

“What’s a ‘fell’ creature?”

“How were the King and Queen chosen?”

“Can I become a Knight?”

Old Keith’s hand pointed directly at Thomas. At that moment, he realized he had asked his question aloud. With Keith pointing at him, everyone in the tavern was looking at him, and he started to hunch his shoulders. But Keith just smiled, and answered. “All Dragons choose their own Knight. How or why they choose, or even when, is entirely up to them! There is no school, no book to read. The Dragon makes their choice, and no one can say otherwise.”

At this, he lowered himself down to Thomas' level, clasping his hands, his mouth in a crooked grin. “So yes, Master Tom. If the wind blows just right. If She looks upon you with favor, and you prove yourself worthy, you can become a Knight!”

“The only thing he is, is late for supper!”

Thomas flinched, as his brother’s harsh voice shouted from the doorway. Jareth stood a full head taller than him, his oversized homespun shirt hiding wiry strong arms, a heavy looking canvas bag swinging from his shoulder. He marched in, brushing past the other children, and grabbed Thomas by his wrist. He glared at Old Keith. “I don’t care how you spend your time, old man. But don’t waste ours.” He dragged a protesting Thomas towards the door, and his face heated as he heard some of the adults laughing. He must look ridiculous, being dragged away, grabbing onto nearby beams and tables. With another yank, Jareth growled at him. “Third bell was an hour ago. You know the rules, and every time you break them it’s somehow my fault!” He gave another furious yank, wrenching Thomas free from the beam he’d clung onto. “Quit squirming and walk, dolt. I don’t want to drag you back to the farm, but I will! It’ll be easier if you walk!”

Holding back furious tears, Tom tried to leave with some dignity, his feet tripping over eachother as he tried to keep pace with his brother. He glanced back as some of the other children giggled at his antics. He locked eyes with Mara, as she covered her mouth.

She was worried. For him!

His mind resolved, he dashed ahead of his brother, causing him to stagger off balance! “Come on Jareth,” he said, loud enough for the whole tavern to hear. “You don’t want to make us late! Hurry up!” The tavern erupted into chuckles, muted only by the grumbled swearings of his brother, who didn’t reply. Wrist in hand, they marched out the door, each trying to assert their authority over the situation.

A ways outside the village, Tom finally wrenched his wrist free of Jareth’s grip, massaging the nail marks left behind. Still, he marched on, glowering back up at the bell tower that unfairly showed it being much later than it ought to. At nine years old, he knew his time was precious, and wasn’t worth wasting on some stupid farm in the middle of nowhere.

But no one listened to “Trouble Tom.” “Terrible Tom.” Tom the time-waster. Tom the lazy. He was tolerated, sure, but he knew he wasn’t wanted. Still, here he was, and he didn’t plan on leaving just for everyone else’s comfort. He shivered in the biting autumn breeze, as the sun sank behind the hills of the valley. The cold hard dirt of the path sapped the warmth from his feet, right through the thin cloth wraps.

“You really like getting me in trouble, don’t you Tom?” Jareth sighed. “How am I supposed to do my chores and make sure you do yours at the same time? You know how Mother gets!” Tom hunched a bit at this. Jareth was obnoxious, but it wasn’t really his fault. He just did what Mother said, like a trained dog. It wasn’t his fault he was an ass! He sniffed. “I did good enough! I hoed and watered the vegetable patch, just like she told me!”

“You didn’t weed it!”

“Did!”

“Didn’t! There’s still lots of crabgrass that’s choking the crop!”

Thomas huffed. “I pulled what I could find! It’s all green, anyway! Just sell the crabgrass too, make extra coin!”

Thump!

He sat down on the road, hard. His hands clutching the top of his head as water leaked from his eyes. Jareth growled at him, fist clenched. “Either you think you're funny, or you're the biggest idiot in the kingdom! Either way, shut your trap, and do what you’re told. Do the chores, finish the chores, and do them right! That’s your job! That’s our job! Stop acting better than the rest of us! You aren’t!”

Getting up, Thomas bit back the retort he so wanted to spit at his brother. He knew it’d just get him walloped again. That’s all there was out here. He stomped on towards their farm, still just the size of his outstretched thumb. A small gray barn, and a green cottage, with smoke coming merrily out of the chimney. And, unseen from the road, a small tool shed out back.

He sneered at the sight.

Throwing caution to the wind, he spun around to Jareth, who was brought up short in surprise. “When I’m old enough,” he shouted, “I’m joining the army. I’ll leave this place and never come back, and you and Mother can rot here!”

Jareth laughed. “You can’t join the army! You can’t use your right hand properly! Everyone knows that you need a good right hand! Unless they’re desperate.”

He brushed past him, but Thomas kept pace, still talking. “Then I’ll learn to use it! I’ll be better at it than anyone else, even people who’ve used it all the time. And I’ll become a Knight, too! That’ll show all of you!”

“Only nobles become Knights, Tom.” Jareth kept up his brisk pace. “There hasn’t been a single Knight that didn’t have an important last name. And we’re probably the least important people in the kingdom!”

Thomas fumed silently, unable to argue with anything his brother said. He marched quietly behind. As the farm approached, Thomas' anger gave way to the cold dread he felt whenever he drew near it. An empty dread that something bad was going to happen. And it was almost worse when it didn’t, because that just meant it was waiting for the worst possible time to strike. For the first time, he noted the canvas bag on Jareth’s shoulder. “What’s in there?”

Jareth fondled the bag, reassuring himself it was still full. “I got some flour from Dent’s mill.” His voice was neutral now, though there was still a hint of annoyance. “I told Mother you went to get some. We were low.”

Jareth took the bag off his own shoulders, and put it on Thomas'. He sagged under the sudden weight. “You were doing your chores, and noticed we were out of flour, got it? If you mess up, we’ll both be in for it.”

Silently, the two brothers walked down the path. Towards the gray barn, the green cottage, and the tool shed.

____________

Many years later...

Pale blue peeked down through a cracked gray sky. The wind ripped and tugged at Thomas' riding cloak. Far below, Kinvale stood alone in the teardrop shaped valley, where it had always stood. Far to the outskirts, a small blotch of green and brown showed where the farm still stood. He couldn’t see anyone on the roads from up here, but it was probably busy as ever. Moreso, with the scouts coming in.

Zetreus, as he preferred to be called in the moment, banked windward, his blue leathery wings cracked in the wind like sails, and Thomas felt his muscles bunch and twist below with every downbeat. Zetreus hummed, and while the sound was whipped away in the wind, Tom felt every word through his legs.

“Yeah, it’s been a long time. Well, long for me, anyway. More than twelve years!” He laughed as he did the math. “Which would probably just be a nap for you!”

Zetreus thrummed in amusement, slowly spiraling down into the valley. The village was mostly made up of jettied, half-timbered houses, the stucco ranging from new white to old beige. There were a few stone buildings, like the mills and the mayor's mansion, which he could see easily from up here. Thomas pointed out the buildings he recognized, an odd combination of revulsion and nostalgia welling up within him. “That’s Dent’s mill by the river, next to the other two. That’s the square and the mayor’s house. And, I think that’s the tavern off in the corner, actually! I’m surprised it’s still standing!”

He glanced up as his two escorts signaled they were ready to land. Their drakes were smaller than Zetrus, and more animal-like in intelligence, but certainly not dumb. The journey had been long for them as well. Thomas sighed, resigning himself to what was coming. Zetreus hummed again, a questioning tone now. “I guess I was hoping to put this off a little longer, that’s all. Nothing for it now. Let’s make to just outside the main gate. I don’t think you’re small enough to fit in the square.” A rather insistent hum this time, and Tom laughed again. “My mistake. I mean to say, the square is too small to contain your might and majesty!” He thrummed again, and the amusement was tinged with an unmistakable smugness.

The two of them, bonded together by a tie stronger than blood, soared over the village. And as Tom’s golden eyes watched below, he saw people pointing up at Zetreus in awe!

After all, it wasn’t every day a village like Kinvale is honored by the presence of the Cobalt Knight, was it?