The Dragon Tamers of Fairburn Valley

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Marwine had heard it all her life, usually grumbled by Granda anytime an especially large shadow passed over the family farm.

It was an early autumn afternoon and Marwine was sitting by the fireplace, half-heartedly whittling a cat out of a branch she had found earlier in the day. The air outside had just begun to feel crisp and cool. She tossed a few scraps of wood into the small fire beside her, watching them catch and burn. Mamo was preparing supper and Granda was sitting in his rocking chair, darning a pair of old socks and smoking.

Suddenly , the small cottage began to quake. Marwine looked out of the front windows as the afternoon light dimmed. She covered her ears, pressing her hands firmly against her face as a familiar, rumbling screech pierced through the quiet. The light returned and the walls stilled after a few moments. Marwine slowly lowered her hands, the once deafening sound growing ever distant, replaced by the previous calm. No matter how much she had grown accustomed to the dragons flying overhead, their roaring always made her heart hammer against her ribs and left her palms slick.

“Aren’t the wizards supposed to be keeping those things under control?” Granda grumbled around his pipe, shaking his head. “The Everlys lost half their sheep again last month. It’s a good thing we switched to potatoes,” he added to Marwine.

His complaints were met by a small sigh and gentle shake of the head by Mamo, as usual. “The wizards are more focused on conservation these days, Eadric,” she explained patiently, as Marwine had heard her do dozens of times before.

“Those yellow bellied, lizard loving—”

“That’s enough, Eadric,” she interrupted sharply, punctuating her husband’s name with the chop of an onion. “It isn’t that bad, you know. That was the first dragon attack we’ve had in almost six months now. The Everlys received a generous settlement for their loss. Wynnstan told me that they could buy a flock of gold fleeced sheep with the money they got.”

“Is that so?” he remarked with a snort.

“Yes, he told me that the wizards paid him a visit last week and apologized for the loss of his flock. Then, they asked him how much they were worth and they gave him the money.”

“They just handed him whatever amount he told them? That crafty bastard, I’ll bet he told those idiots that his flock was worth a hundred a head,” he muttered, chuckling bitterly. “I wonder…”

Marwine lost all interest in her whittling, turning her attention to her grandfather. He sat silently, stroking his chin and staring off at nothing. Gentle puffs of smoke floated from his pipe as he rocked gently. The only times she had ever seen her grandfather sit in quiet contemplation was when he was up to something, and much to Marwine’s enjoyment, he usually involved her.

“Wassa, how long will it be until dinner?” he asked finally, standing up and stretching.

Mamo paused and looked over at him. “It’ll be done by the time Cenric and Mildburga get back from the fields. What schemes are you cooking up now?” she asked, squinting at him with a hand on her hip.

“Schemes? Who said anything about schemes? I just want to go on a little pre-supper walk.” Granda bent down and gave Marwine a wink. “Why don’t you come to town with Granda and help pick out some lambs, Mar-my-girl?”

Marwine nodded eagerly, leaping up and grabbing her coat from its hook by the front door. Her grandfather followed her, laughing at her enthusiasm and holding the door open for her.

“You best be home in time for supper, Eadric,” Marwine heard Mamo call after them. “And the two of you better stay out of trouble!”

The autumn chill sent a shiver through Marwine as she pulled her coat around her. There was still plenty of light but she knew that it would be gone by the time they arrived home, especially if they were herding sheep back to the farm. She followed Granda to the barn, feeling a pang of longing shoot through her as she heard the familiar squeaking of the barn door. She had been devastated when her grandfather made the decision to sell their sheep two years ago because of the increasing number of dragon attacks. She particularly missed Berry Bush, a lamb that she had bottle fed.

Granda emerged from the barn, holding a coin purse and two herding staffs. “It’s a good thing I set aside that money I made from selling those seed potatoes.”

Marwine crossed her arms. “You mean those bags of rocks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, those bags were brimming with seed potatoes,” Granda grumbled, feigning offense.

Marwine raised her eyebrow at him.

“Alright, so maybe they were mostly rocks,” Granda admitted, putting his hands up in defeat and letting out a chuckle. “Nothing gets by you, Mar-my-girl. You’re sharp as a tack, just like your Granda.” He gave her a wink and held out the coin purse.

Marwine took the pouch and tucked it carefully into her coat, patting it and looking up at her grandfather. “What’s the plan?”

He hummed as he led them up the road to town. “Wynnstan Everly certainly pulled off quite the con, but I think that we can do better.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Think about it for a moment.”

Marwine tilted her head, deep in thought as her grandfather puffed away on his pipe. “We buy a flock but we don’t actually lose any sheep to the dragons, we just make it appear as if we do,” she offered after a few moments.

Granda let out a satisfied mhmphf. “I figure that the old herding caves will make a decent hiding place.”

“How are we going to make it look like a dragon attacked?” Marwine asked, eyes wide with concern. She had heard stories of the smoking ruins left behind by dragons filching livestock from all over the Valley. Even the biggest of barns was reduced to a pile of ash by the fire-breathing pests. Of course, it had been more than a year since anyone’s land had been set ablaze, but sheep and cows still disappeared regularly.

Granda shrugged. “I figured we’ll set a couple fires, just enough to scorch the earth. We may have to set the barn alight to really sell it, but that’s a problem for another day. For now, we focus on getting the flock, which I’m guessing is the part you’re most looking forward to.”

Marwine nodded fervently. She was already thinking about what kind of sheep she wanted. Mamo always said that it was good to get white fleeced sheep because their wool was the easiest to sell, but Marwine had a soft spot for the darker fleeced lambs.

Granda reached over and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “I was just as heartbroken as you were when we had to sell the flock. I’ve been a shepherd all my life, my father was a shepherd, his father was a shepherd...” He shook his head. “Since our ancestors settled in Fairburn, the Denmans have never been without a flock and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that it hurts me every day to see that barn empty and these crooks hanging with no purpose.”

Marwine tipped her head solemnly. She remembered hearing her father and Granda whispering in the kitchen one night when they thought everyone had gone to sleep. Their voices were tense, locked in a quiet argument that finally ended with a sigh.

“Da, it’s what we have to do,” her father urged. “The Bagleys lost their entire flock and had their barn incinerated. Wulfsige told me that if they didn’t have a healthy harvest this year, they might as well have been burnt with their barn. I’m not exactly enthusiastic about this either, shepherding is in our blood; but I would rather sell the flock while we can and focus on growing than find myself sitting in the smoldering remains of my home.”

“Marwine won’t take it well,” her grandfather had warned. “Berry Bush won’t either, Cenric. That girl has a gift with animals, I’ve never seen a lamb so attached to something other its mother’s teat.”

“I know, Da, but she’ll understand. Besides, think of how much worse it would be if she had to see Berry Bush snatched up by a dragon.”

“If it weren’t for these damn winged lizards, we’d be swimming in spun wool. I wouldn’t have to be so crafty to keep food on the table,” Granda grumbled, pulling Marwine out of her memories.

“Well, it certainly makes life more interesting,” Marwine commented, a smile playing at her lips. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she took pleasure in helping Granda with his moneymaking schemes. She especially enjoyed celebrating with him when his plans worked. It wasn’t the most honest living, but it was necessary.

Granda flashed her a grin, his pipe hanging from the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you see me as a source of entertainment. If these reptilian sympathizers are just throwing away money, I don’t see why we shouldn’t take advantage of it, given the impact they’ve had on our lives,” he added sourly.

The dragons had done more than just stolen some animals. They had robbed many families in the Valley of their livelihood. Acre upon acre of beautiful pasture sat overgrown and unused as well-established shepherds and cowherds left the area as the number of dragon sightings and attacks increased. Those who remained were either foolhardy like the Everlys or had switched to growing crops, like Marwine’s own family. They couldn’t afford to lose and replace so much livestock.

Still, she found it difficult to believe that the wizards would deliberately do something so malicious. Maybe compensating people for their losses was a tactic to drum up trust in them once more and build a relationship with the farmers of Fairburn Valley. The recent decrease in the number of dragon attacks was certainly promising and Marwine felt that it showed that what the wizards were doing was not without intention and had to have a benefit of some kind to somebody. She just wished it didn’t negatively impact her family and others like it.

Marwine shrugged, kicking a rock out of her path. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

“Nothing ever really is, in the end,” Granda mumbled. “I don’t see how anything good can come out of bringing those monstrous beasts back from near extinction, where they belong.”

Marwine shook her head. “I’m sure that there is some good reason behind what the wizards are doing and that we will find out what that reason is someday. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, puffs of smoke from his pipe keeping rhythm. “Aye, I figured you’d be able to see the good in it. You see the good in everything, even your grumpy ol’ Granda.”

Marwine smiled and bumped his shoulder playfully, her excitement growing as the town of Fairburn came into view. She enjoyed going into town and seeing the hustle and bustle of all the people that lived within its walls. It was a departure from the quiet of the farm, filled with vibrant colors and overlapping conversations.

“Keep your wits about you and keep a good handle on that coin purse,” Granda advised as they entered the town gates.

Marwine jumped as someone brushed past her, nearly knocking her over. Her hand flew to the coin purse, relief flooding her body when she felt it. She kept a firm hold of it over her coat, keeping close to Granda. He had always warned her about the master pickpockets and thieves that moved around the city, ne’er-do-wells that lurked in the shadows and were ever watching for the slightest slip in security.

They made their way into the livestock market and Marwine let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. It was much calmer than the rest of the market, an island in a sea of motion. She immediately spotted a pen with a tight huddle of lambs and felt her heart swell. She pressed herself against the side of the pen, sticking her hand through the gaps and clicking her tongue at the lambs. A few of them broke from the huddle, sniffing and licking her fingers.

“Okay, Mar-my-girl, you always pick out the best beasts. Choose whichever ones you like,” Granda encouraged, patting her on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you by chance the farmer across from the Everlys? Eadric Denman, I believe?” came a voice from behind them.

Marwine turned to see two men in deep purple tunics and dark blue cloaks embroidered with strange symbols in silver. They had the same short haircut and even seemed to move in unison. The only difference between them was that one was a good head taller than the other.

“Aye, that’d be me,” Granda answered with a frown, eyeing the two men. “I take it from the funny way you’re dressed that you’re those wizards who have been in the Valley. Can’t say I’m a fan of your work.”

“We have a business proposition for you,” the taller of the two said, stepping forward and ignoring his comment.

Granda shook his head. “I’m not interested in doing any sort of business with overgrown newt breeders,” he huffed, turning back towards the sheep pen. “Marwine—"

“You will be handsomely compensated for your participation,” the shorter one interjected.

Granda turned back to face the men, giving them a once over and squinting at them. “How handsomely?”

“W-well, you’ve come to the market to buy some sheep, yes?” the shorter one asked as a lamb rubbed its head against Marwine’s hand.

“Aye,” Granda confirmed, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow.

“We will purchase whatever lambs you want. To start, that is,” the man continued, smiling at Marwine as she scratched a lamb between the ears.

Marwine watched as Granda went quiet, scratching his chin. He looked between the two men and the pen full of lambs, one of which was happily trying to eat Marwine’s coat. He looked down at her with a glimmer in his eye, grinning mischievously. “What do you think, Mar-my-girl?”

Marwine looked at the two wizards, both looking at her intently. She looked up at Granda and nodded, mirroring his smile. This was going to be great, she thought, pulling her coat away from the munching sheep.

Granda waved at the vendor to get his attention. “We’ll take the lot!” he announced before turning back to the two wizards, who had turned two shades paler. “Now, what is this proposition?”

***

“You want me to do what?”

The men had taken Marwine and Granda into a nearby stable. In a cage and hidden underneath of a piece of burlap, was a young white dragon. It was no bigger than a cat and its clawed wings were tucked and covered in feathers. When they had first lifted the burlap, Marwine had thought that they had captured a partially plucked chicken.

“Raise it,” the taller wizard repeated, clasping his hands in front of himself. “It’s a new domestication program that we are introducing to the area. We feel that putting dragons into the care of experienced animal handlers such as yourselves is beneficial to our research and the dragon’s development. You are the first person that we have asked to—"

“And I’ll be the last if you’ve got half a brain between the two of you!” Granda exclaimed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what kind of salamander smoocher you lot take me for, but I’m not interested and neither is any other farmer in the whole of Fairburn Valley!”

The taller wizard crossed his arms. “Well, I suggest you go back out there and explain that to the man who you just bought thirty sheep from.”

Granda laughed nervously. “Now, I’m sure we can work something out here…”

As the men argued, Marwine crept towards the dragon. It had backed into one of the corners of its cage and was hissing at her, its brows drawn down over its icy blue eyes. She could see its heart pounding beneath its shiny, scale-covered skin. The creature she was looking at now seemed so far removed from the massive, ferocious creatures that she had seen flying over the farm. In fact, it seemed to be more afraid of her than she was of it.

Marwine raised her hand, her fingers brushing against the bars of the cage. She clicked her tongue at the dragon, just as she had done with the lambs. The dragon stopped hissing, its blue forked tongue poking out from between its lips. It seemed to relax, eyeing Marwine and her hand. Slowly, it made its way closer to her, giving her fingers a cursory sniff. She moved her hand closer and the dragon leapt back, hissing once more.

She clicked her tongue again, keeping her hand as still as possible. The dragon approached cautiously once again and after a few moments of sniffing, it pressed its snout into her hand and let out a deep exhale. She felt an unnatural cold against the palm of her hand and giggled when she saw that the dragon had breathed a small patch of ice onto her.

“I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a thousand times over, I don’t—”

“It’s already bonded with the girl,” one of the wizards gasped.

Marwine turned her head to see the three men marveling at her as the dragon began licking at the ice it had blown onto her palm, purring loudly.

“Mar-my-girl,” Granda chuckled bitterly. “Of course you’d bond with a dragon.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, sighing deeply.

“Please, sir, you won’t regret this,” the shorter wizard pleaded. “We will take care of all rearing costs and pay you for time and effort.”

Granda looked expectantly at Marwine, crossing his arms and rocking back on his heels. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

Marwine looked down at the dragon. It gazed up at her and took a hold of her hand with its claws. It purred at her loudly, nuzzling her hand with its cold snout. She looked back at Granda with a smile. “I’d like to try it.”

The shorter wizard clapped with excitement. “Wonderful! We have some equipment to send with you, please wait here while we make preparations.” The two wizards exited, leaving Granda and Marwine alone in the stable.

Granda shook his head, coming over to her and the dragon. He offered his hand to it and after a few sniffs, the dragon gave his fingers a lick. “I thought these things were supposed to breath fire. I guess…I guess they’re not so bad,” he whispered.

“No, they really aren’t,” she replied with a small smile as the dragon rubbed its head against her hand.

Granda looked at her, tears welling in his eyes and his voice dripping with pride as he said “You may come from a long line of shepherds, but now you are Marwine Denman, the First Dragon Tamer of Fairburn Valley.”