The Dragon Corps

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. Some say they'd come from up north, from above the Scottish Highlands. Others say that the Saxons brought them over to assist in their conquest of the isle. There were rumors that they flew upon them over the Sea, one hand gripping the reins and the other brandishing a double-sided axe. But that was likely a myth, inspired by the tremendous fear of the invaders; I’m pretty sure no one can tame dragons, let alone ride them like a steed.

Wherever dragons show up, however they got there, they bring trouble. Death, despair, destruction. They decimate homes and fields, leaving behind a wake of devastation. Their removal is essential, and it has become quite a profitable business. And the business of dragon extermination has been monopolized by Waloway Services, which is more widely referred to as The Dragon Corps. They had paid off the king to give them full control of the dragon removal market; it is the Dark Ages, and anti-trust laws haven’t come close to conception. Their mission: the extinction of dragons, to wipe them from the face of the earth, and reduce them to a historical legend.

The company was headed by a Lord Waloway, allegedly a distant relative of the king, and The Dragon Corps bore his name. Their business plan was simple: a charter was released for each case of dragon infestation, and representatives were sent to employ peasants of the town adjacent to the dragons’ whereabouts. The system involved the employment of disposable mercenaries, locally sourced, so there didn’t have to be the upkeep of a standing army of knights, as they would likely be burnt to a crisp or have their heads chomped off and need regular replacing.

The Dragon Corps could always count on desperate people to come out in droves, rearing to sign up for the job. Life is hard for most, and it's said to pay well to those who survive a completed extermination. So many decided to make the gamble with their lives, and who wouldn't want the glory of being dubbed a dragon-slayer?

So since the dragons were now here, not far from our farm, I went to sign up for the job. I figured, what do I have to lose, other than my monotonous, ho-hum life? I made my way into town at sun up, and in the square found a lengthy, winding line of men eager to join in the hunt. A slimy looking man adorning long, velvet robes, the Waloway recruiter, sat behind an ornate, gleaming oaken desk that had been hauled there to look official. He emanated the impression that those who approached him were lucky for the opportunity to slay dragons, but he looked like he had surely never came close to one himself.

He gave each applicant a quick glance up and down, sizing them up. Asked a couple of curt questions, exchanged a few words. He quickly made a decision on whether or not their lives were worth being risked against dragons. He gave them a paper to sign, the process of which included a stab to the finger to leave a bloody print; it was literally a blood oath that was contractually required.

When it was my turn to step up to the grimy man, I mustered whatever assuredness I could, stood up straight, chest out. I looked him straight in the eyes, and maintained that gaze. He seemed to be taken aback that I dared look at him so confidently, but he proceeded to look me up and down. He asked what kind of work I did; I told him I maintain the family farm, and hunt regularly. He looked into my eyes again, more piercingly than before, as if trying to goad me into looking away; I didn’t.

He brusquely shoved a contract before me which I was careful to read. I had noticed most of the others hadn’t, and likely couldn’t. It outlined the measly trifle to be paid to survivors, which was admittedly better than what could regularly be come by out here. A bonus was paid to the man who laid the killing blow. It also made boldly clear that all gold and treasure possibly found being guarded by the dragons was to go in totality to Waloway Services. Also, if the slain had no heirs, all of their possessions would be claimed by Waloway. It was a greedy business, but of course that’s how the wealth divide is maintained these days. I’m sure the king gets a hefty cut, on top of the exorbitant taxes he hoards.

I decided to sign. I just went with it, giving into the impulse; it was an abrupt decision, and though intimidating, it felt correct. I winced as the sleezy man sliced into my thumb, which he surely did with more force than was necessary. I pressed into the page and held it up, blood streaming down, to give it a brief affirmation, and passed it along to him, trying my best to steady my trembling hand. He gave me a pompous shrug, and gestured to the left, signaling for me to go through the curtain which stood erected behind him. I had made it in; I was going to face dragons. I hesitantly stumbled onward.

On the other side I met the group that ended up being around one hundred men assembled to represent our town for this round of dragon-slaying. It was an interesting mix of recruits, a ragtag bunch. They seemed to possess random physical attributes. Of course, there was a number of brawny, muscular men amongst the ranks, and there were some shorter, leaner guys, who looked fast. But there were some scrawny, feeble-looking ones too; I quickly realized, of course, there had to be a front line to be sacrificed. How many lives it takes to bring down a dragon I wasn’t quite sure, but I knew I would soon find out.

A hefty pile of worn and rusty armor was laid out, and the men scuffled over the pieces that looked the least frayed. The little guys were left with the scraps. Most of it was ill-fitting, too small or too large, missing straps, metal dented. Some traded to make due. The shields were all very large, and most of us could hardly carry them, let alone lift them for utilization, for protection. Then weapons were presented, also fought over: old swords, axes, spears, and javelins, some bent and crooked. Bows were presented which were all the same, so there was no need for contention over those, and each man was given a quiver with a couple dozen arrows.

We had to, as outlined in the contract, be given some rudimentary training before being quite literally thrown to the fire. I’m sure it was more for The Dragon Corps’ benefit, a bit of insurance, than for our safety.

They had us do a couple of laps. There was a makeshift obstacle course set up, and as we jostled through it we were shouted at by the trainers, harshly. Some made it through with ease, but many stumbled, a couple falling over themselves. I tried to remain steady. There was a sequence where large rocks were thrown at us by an enormously brawny man, which we had to dodge. Some got hit, and some went down. They were quickly dragged off to the side, and slapped until they came to. The Dragon Corps wasn’t done with them yet.

A line of canvas-wrapped targets were propped up in a line, and we were to do some bow and arrow practice. Some of these men clearly had not shot a bow before, but I was pretty good, as I had been a marksman since I was a lad, and had become renowned around these parts as a hunter. I was actually the best there; the bow was my specialty. I tried my best to help the guys who needed it, as the instructors did little to intervene, but the other men who were proficient didn’t bother offering assistance.

It was murmured that there really wasn’t much point in a bow against a dragon, as their hides could not be pierced by an arrow. But their underbellies were a bit soft, and you could pierce their wings, or get one in the throat, if their mouth was open and happened to not be emitting fire. I thought that would be my best chance at a kill.

The final component of training involved a firespitter who would be spitting flames directly at us, to imitate dragon fire. This man was small, but he proved to have absurdly large lung capacity. We proceeded in groups to form short lines, some struggling to hold up the oversized shields, shaking with uncertainty. The firespitter, without warning, proceeded to spray infernos at us, from which we had to use the shield to protect ourselves. One dropped his; he screamed in agony, and was promptly dragged to the side. He wasn’t tended to.

The slimy robed man made a final appearance after this procedure, to crudely inform us that dragon fire was ten times stronger and hotter than that blew by the fire spitter. Everyone looked at each other at this revelation, not knowing how to react. I just stared at the creep, who found my gaze and gave me a smug, gleeful smirk.

After the exercises some of the men squared off in sword fights, mostly to show off. Of course we all knew that the dragons wouldn’t have swords as weapons. But there was not that long of a respite; Waloway was a business, and they had prompt work to be done. We were soon shouted at to get ready to depart.

We set off for the Valley, the procession led by an old man steering a cart with the armor, weapons, and supplies, followed by a couple dozen Waloway men. I hadn’t been there since I was a child, but I remember the massive Cave the dragons were said to take refuge in. There had always been rumors of treasure hidden deep in the Valley which had never been claimed, and it would make sense if it was really there, as dragons are known to be attracted to gold and treasure.

When we made it to the slope of the Mountain bordering the Valley, a couple of tents were set up for the Waloway folks. Such accommodations were not for us hires; we were being sent right to work. After the provision of a meager meal and the quenching of thirst, we parted for the final hurdle into the Valley, and towards the dragons’ lair.

We were all becoming scared, the reality of what was going to happen starting to set in. We had all been exhausted from the training and the hike, but were startled wide awake with adrenaline instigated by a strange cry coming from within the Valley, its wavelengths quivering the ground. Mass hysteria swept over the group. None of the men here, including myself, had yet seen a dragon, as they hadn’t been here long, and those who had seen them hadn’t survived the encounter. A few tried to turn back and flee, but there were guards sent by Waloway to prevent just that from happening.

After trudging our way through the Mountain pass, the vast Valley appeared before us, the wide opening to the Cave on the other side being the focal point. We suited back up in the armor and reequipped the weapons; this time their distribution was made by the Waloway guards, so the claims made earlier had been meaningless. The Captain then formed the ranks, placing us into battalions of five. This was the most terrifying part of the process thus far, as no one wanted to be sent in after the dragons first.

But one group had to go first, and as I predicted, it was to be a group of the scrawny guys. When they received this news their eyes went wide with terror, and they remained that way. We marched towards the Cave in the lines of five; my group was in the middle. When we got close another alarming sound shook the ground, this one much louder, more resounding, and clearly a roar. It reverberated around the Valley. Everyone was freshly overcome by fear.

The Captain gave a pep talk, reminding us that we had signed up for this, that glory and riches awaited, which was probably a lie, but he sold it, and most of the men joined in a rallying cry. A wave of frail courage rippled through the group; armor was double-checked for situating, some torches were ignited. The plan was for the first group, shortly followed by the second, to go into the Cave and goad the dragons out. My group and a couple of others waited with bows at the ready, some with javelins, and the rest stood wielding the swords and spears and axes, trying to assume the defensive position that had been taught during training. I then realized, this was going to be a blood bath. Most of the Waloway men had disappeared, slinked off beyond the Mountain, though the captain remained, and a few others. I imagined they were considered more disposable.

The first group, barely able to clutch their torches, leaning on each others’ energies to keep from falling apart, made their way into the Cave. Before the second group could follow, bloodcurdling screams echoed from the Cave, followed by a flash that lit up the chasm. The one surviving man came running out, and the dragons followed.

The second battalion, caught unaware and scared stiff, were promptly incinerated by a sweep of dragon fire. Three enormous dragons emerged. Then it was chaos; arrows flew, javelins launched. A mix of warring yells and petrified screams rang through the Valley, swallowed up by the bellows of the beasts. Men left the ground haphazardly, thrown by the dragons’ grabs and catapulted by their tails, launching themselves to dodge the blasts of inferno. I got in a couple of unsuccessful shots from my bow, but when one of the monsters was finished letting out a flame, I timed my projection precisely to get it square in the mouth. It let out an agonizing cry, and stumbled backwards.

But a fourth dragon appeared from behind it and took its place, this one slightly smaller yet even more intimidating, its movement much swifter and sharper. It looked right at me; I had never seen eyes so fierce and penetrating. I shot an arrow at it, but it batted it aside with its claw. It rushed at me, and before I could move it had grasped me, and it spread and batted its wings and leapt into the air with me in its clutches.

I was almost unconscious, stunned, struggling to comprehend that I was alive. I opened my eyes to view that I was soaring through the air, high over the Valley. I could see the fight below, the men swarming around the immense dragons, swayed by their streams of fire, their cries growing fainter. And then we passed the Mountains that formed the Valley, and along the chain that jutted from them, their elevations getting higher and ours rising with them. The dragon headed for the highest peak of the tallest Mountain, circled a couple of times for descent, and threw me on to a landing, docking with a thud shortly after.

I again was amazed that I had been spared, and beheld the dragon before me. It looked at me with the same sharp stare, but this time slightly more gently, affirmatively. It turned around towards the rock face where a large assemblage of logs and tree tops had been procured. And over the crest of the pile I could see a large, rounded, off-colored yellow object. The dragon looked back at me, signaling for me to approach, and I just followed without questioning. But before I could get too close it blocked me with its tail, careful enough not to knock me over. I realized then that this dragon was female, and this mound was a nest, and that yellow mass was an egg.

I shielded my eyes as I beheld her blow a continuous surge of fire directly upon the egg. After about a minute, she stopped, and waited, as did I with bated breath. The egg began to move, oscillate, sparsely at first but then swinging more widely, wildly, and it cracked. The baby dragon inside emerged, letting out an alluring cry, and I had witnessed the most beautiful thing in my life.

I just stood there in amazement, watching as the dragon bent her neck to brush the egg shells away, then nudging her baby with tenderness. This was a birth like no other, but just as natural, just as pure. The baby squirmed, tripped over its wings and stumbled a bit. The mother then changed her position back towards me, and she looked at me anew, this time with yearning. She was speaking to me, but it wasn’t with any discernible language, not with sounds or phonetics. It was a telepathic transmission that just made instant sense. She needed my help, to protect her young.

My attitude towards dragons changed right then and there, and my had life changed. A swell of respect for them inundated me, filling me with an indescribable reverence. I suddenly understood their majesty, their beauty, their importance, their right to exist.

I would soon be informed why I experienced that incomprehensible connection with the dragon, and find that it was not a fluke, it was not random. And I would decide to dedicate my life to prevent the persecution, the extinction, of dragons.

The obvious way to start was by dismantling Waloway, by putting a stop to The Dragon Corps.