The Dragon Whisperer

There weren't always dragons in the valley. I only knew this because of an ancient scroll I had stolen from Lord Valdez's chambers as a boy. He had been a horrible toad of a man--saggy jowls, a mulish mouth, and an overeager propensity to whip anyone he thought wronged him. It had been a pleasure to steal from him, and worth the 20 lashes and extra months of stable duty. Perhaps if I had been born in a different valley, or a different time, I wouldn't be facing the death sentence before me.

Fear was rife in the air. Me and the other men were waiting nervously in an underground chamber, listening to the roars and jeers of the crowd outside. We were waiting to enter the Ring--a gladiator arena where prisoners fought for their lives against other prisoners, goblins, and a variety of creatures. If the prisoners managed to survive, they would earn their freedom. Of course, in the early rounds there was hope for this. With the last round however, the main event, a dragon would be released. It just so happened, I was one of the unfortunate participants in that last round.

"I wonder what the dragon looks like," a fellow prisoner said next to me--an old man with tufts of hair sticking wildly from his head like misshapen horns.

"You'll have your answer soon, old geezer." A lanky man spat. "You'll be the appetizer to the buffet."

I cast him a glance. He was right. There was no winning against the dragon. King Barboda had housed the same one for over five years, and I hadn't heard of anyone managing to even scratch the beast. It was the crown jewel in his brutal entertainment ring.

Contemplating one's death might knock some fear into an ordinary man. But I was no ordinary man. Inventiveness. Cunningness. And most importantly, my innate ability to squirm out of trouble like a rat dipped in grease, were my main specialties. Today was no different. While the others crouched in the grey light and whispered strategies among themselves, I stood confidently apart. I had nothing to fear because I knew I had an advantage they did not.

My ease seemed to have caught the attention of one of the other men. He was standing apart as well, keeping a keen eye on the others and probably assessing who he could use as a meat shield. He was a large man, with beefy arms crossing his barrel of a chest, dreadlocks trailing past his shoulders, and stood at least a foot above everyone else. I had felt his eyes trail past me several times, and they now lingered. Squaring my shoulders, I turned my gaze and assessed him just as affrontingly as he did me.

"Care to share what's on your mind, friend?" My tone was light and inviting. His gaze didn't flicker.

"Ain't I seen you before?"

"Hm, perhaps, though I doubt it, judging by your attire." I shot a pointed look at his filth-stained breeches and tattered vest. "I worked as a royal house servant before this whole misunderstanding."

A smile split his face, revealing several missing teeth and a golden tooth. "I bet the beast will make good work of you, seeing as you worked for them royal waftogers."

Ah. With that insult, and now looking at him properly, I noticed the slight point to his ears. He was Cytalan. His kind were not too keen on the royal bloodline of Haltovia. He was most likely a spy that had been apprehended. I was among high-level prisoners who had committed ultimate offense--traitors, slanders, enemies, murderers, and persons who had insulted the royal line. That last category was where I fell.

"Indeed not, my good sir. In fact I anticipate that I shall be released shortly."

This caught the attention of the others, who ceased talking. The man's gaze didn't leave my face.

"That right?"

"Indeed."

"What makes you think you're gonna get out of here with your head still attached to your neck?"

I let a slow smile creep upon my face. "Because, I have charmed Princess Margaret and won her heart."

Now they were all staring at me. "You're kidding right?" One of the other prisoners piped up.

"I assure you I'm not, my good sir."

"If that's the case, what are you doing here?"

"It's all a great misunderstanding," I said calmly. "Quite a funny one, actually. Her father, our glorious king, thought my advances to his daughter as a lowly servant, an insult. He had me thrown in here. But once the Princess sees this face in the Ring..." I said, fluttering my fingers under my chin and bearing a charmingly disarming smile on my face. "She won't be able to endure watching me be torn limb from limb. She'll beg her father to release me before anything happens to this beautiful face."

I held my pose as the men stared at me. When they realized I was serious, there was much rolling of eyes and pitious shaking of heads.

"Sad," one of the men muttered. Others muttered in agreement. Their reaction chafed, and I scowled. "She will call for me to leave the Ring! You'll all see! She loves me!"

"And you love her I assume?" Some random romantic piped up.

I pondered that. That was a good question. Did I love her? Eh, not quite. I could tolerate her, and I figured that was close enough. The truth was, the only reason I had set my sights on winning her interest in the first place, was to woo her and become king. It was a ludicrous idea, and an impossible stretch for any servant to achieve. But I had always had that itch--the itch to advance and rise above what I had been born into. It had always gotten me into trouble, horrible trouble, but it had also reaped surprising and generous rewards.

One day I realized, the only true way to make this itch go away for good, was to become the most powerful man in the kingdom. That, unfortunately, meant playing suitor to a woman I had very little interest in. It was underhanded, and admittedly, manipulative. But I was willing to bet that her father was already pining for some other young men to marry his daughter off to, men she had no interest in marrying. At least with me, she would have felt in control in choosing someone she thought loved her. And perhaps, in time, I could. But love, like life, often went sour and spiteful.

"There's something there," I said hesitantly. "It could very well be love."

The Cytalan scoffed. "More likely revulsion."

"I have a better chance finding love than you, ugly." I snapped back.

His face darkened.

At that moment, a soldier strode into our abode. He was wearing the traditional Haltovian golden armor, with a red feather atop his helmet, and a shield with a roaring bear on the front. He moved with purpose and authority. To him, this is just another day of routine. To us, our last desperate moments. Our eyes all fastened on him. I eyed the sword on his hip, but the hard glare in his eyes made me rethink any attempts at a coup.

"Weapons will be lined in the sand for you all to defend yourselves with," he said. "If any of you manages to kill the dragon, you're free to go." He chuckled. Obviously he knew, as we all did, that would never happen.

"Won't be long now. Say your prayers or whatever. If you want your last words remembered, shout them to the crowd. I'm sure someone will hear you." With a bark of a laugh, the soldier left.

I felt a dip in my confidence when he left without releasing me, but I quickly raised it up again. All I had to do was find Princess Margaret in the stands, and get her to see me. Once she did, she would become distraught and have me released. I only had to get her attention.

As we stewed over the soldier's words of encouragement, one of the men who had been stooped beside the others suddenly stood tall. "We can survive this," he said, staring at us all evenly. "Everyone who enters the arena always fights on their own. If we all stand together, as a united front, we have a chance to defeat the beast. Are you with me?"

We stared at him silently, taking in his bold face rimmed with blonde hair and fierce eyes. He held our gazes with energetic determination. "Are you with me?!" he suddenly shouted, raising his fist and gnashing his teeth.

Perhaps it was desperation, perhaps it was hope, but his show of confidence caused a stirring among us. The men straightened, rolling back their shoulders and lifting their heads. He began a wordless chant, and the other joined him. Some began to leap and howl with wild energy. The fog of terror that hung heavy had quickly turned frantic, and the men were now channeling it with raging abandon. Me and the Cytalan watched the brewing madness silently.

There was a clank and creaking as the metal door in front of us suddenly began to move. The men quieted. More soldiers poured in behind us, and with the promptings of their spears, we walked into the Ring. I blinked and shielded my eyes in the sudden light, taking in the sandy field. There were glints of weapons littering the ground, broken chariots, and dark stains of blood. The stadium, with its high stone walls circled the perimeter, and a mass of people occupied its seats. The roar was deafening and I stared with amazement at the vast number of people who had come to watch our death.

Everyone began to scramble for weapons. I found a pathetic looking dagger, still wet with some poor soul's blood. When I reached for it, someone threw themselves upon it and hissed at me. I backed off. A dagger wouldn't do much against a dragon anyways.

We all drew back behind the man who had called for us to band together. He stood tall, with a longsword in his hand, and confidence radiating out of him like the sun. Though I had some considerable doubts with his plan, I couldn't help but find a measure of comfort in his show of courage.

A gate opposite us, with monstrous black spires, began to clank as it slowly swung open. There was a stirring in the darkness. Then the dragon emerged.

I froze. A shiver of terror ran down my spine.

The sunlight gleamed dully off its grey scales. It was the size of three large wagons, with a snake-like neck and spikes trailing down its back and tail. When it had fully exited the arch, it shook itself, like a dog waking from a nap. Wings loosened and shifted at its sides, before refolding. Its head, narrow and armored like an arrowhead, swung in our direction. Fangs glittered pearl white past its maw.

"Stand strong!" Our leader commanded. There were already men shifting and glancing around fearfully. "If you run now, the beast will go after you! Stand strong!"

That was probably true. The men settled reluctantly.

"Face us! Beast!" Our fearless leader roared, brandishing his sword. "You have no power here!" This was met with quite a good amount of hysterical screams and yells of affirmation of the men crowding around me. Shields and weapons shook and waved.

The dragon strode forward, appearing in no rush. Its gaze swept over us lazily; a pink tongue flickered out, licking its scaly lips. My hands trembled, but I held my position. I kept alternating my gaze between the dragon's approach, and scanning the stands for the Princess. This situation was becoming more and more unfavorable by the second. I needed to act fast, but was frustratingly constrained by the other men.

The dragon was nearly upon us. When it was only several feet away, our leader stepped forward and unleashed several ferocious swipes of the sword, marking an invisible barrier. The dragon halted.

"You shall advance no more, beast!!" The man shouted. "We shall sever your vile head from your foul body and win our freedom!!!" This was backed with a slew of yelling, and I found myself joining in with them.

With no warning, the dragon's head darted forward so quickly I almost missed it. Its mouth clamped over our leader. With two snaps, he was gone.

We all stood there, stunned. The dragon belched, and a line of fire sprayed the air above our heads. The idea of a unified front was quickly abandoned, and everyone scattered.

Fools.

The quiet voice nearly made me trip and fall. Who had said that? It felt close and intimate. Like a lady's breath tickling the back of my neck. I swung my head around, searching vainly for the feminine-sounding speaker. Nothing but sand and blood met my eyes.

As I ran, I attempted to split myself from the pack, but that was a difficult feat to accomplish. We were all trying to stay as far away from the dragon as possible. I began scanning the stands, and quickly spotted the crimson and gold colors of the royal box. I cursed, because it was across the field past the dragon. I would have to somehow find a way to maneuver around there. Perhaps I could play dead at intervals before the dragon looked at me, and sprint when it looked away.

A roar reverberated throughout the stadium. Looking back, I saw the dragon flapping its wings. Certain areas of the membrane were torn and thin. A windstorm grew, sending sand clouds spiraling in the stadium. I had little time to ponder where it was going when it lurched in our direction. Screams rang out in the air as we all dispersed from the descending monster. I dove for the ground, flattening myself and desperately hoping I looked pitiful and uninteresting. The ground shook as it landed and began tearing into the larger group of men who had run. Several bodies landed around me, splayed and unmoving. I needed to get out of here.

I shifted into a crouch, then sprung up. Something seized my ankle and I immediately came crashing back down. Whipping my head back, I was startled to see the bloodied face of the Cytalan--his hand latched around me.

"The beast will have you before it does me, lover boy!" He snarled.

Ah, that's right. I had wisely insulted the strongest, angriest man here before being thrown into an arena of death. It took little time to decide to kick this man's teeth in, and I did so with a generous thwack of my boot. His head snapped back with a gurgle. The golden tooth fell out, and before I could think better of my decision, I scrambled forward and snatched it up before sprinting away. Gold would be useful if I made it out of here.

What a pathetic display, the same voice drawled. I whipped my head this way and that, still finding no source for the voice.

"Did you hear that?" I questioned one of the men running alongside me. But he didn't answer. I looked back, and saw the dragon paw at a group of bodies it had felled. It lowered its snout, and snorted.

Too fat, the voice said, and the dragon turned away. I found myself slow to a stop and stare. It couldn't be...

But there was truly no other conclusion to come to. That voice... It had to be the dragon's voice. I had thought, as everyone else did, that dragons were mindless savage animals. But the voice inside my head, as much as it baffled me to admit it... had to be the dragon.

For a brief moment, I considered pleading my case to this intelligent creature. As I did, she crouched over a prisoner and bit his head off. I quickly reconsidered and resumed running. No. Intelligent or not, the beast was still a creature of violence. My best hope remained trying to find Princess Margaret and getting her to set me free.

I finally reached the royal box, high above the wall. Planting my feet, I threw on a smile, drew in a deep breath and shouted, "Princess Margaret! My love! My morning star!"

My smile faltered when I saw her. She didn't look nearly as distressed as I had been banking on. There was a packet of roasted nuts on her lap, of which she plunged her hand into and popped its contents into her mouth. Munching happily, she cheerily surveyed the death and destruction below her. She didn't seem to notice me.

For a terrible second, it occurred to me that perhaps my attempts at wooing her hadn't entirely worked. In truth, when it came to women, I was horribly inexperienced. I had relied on the advice of one of my old childhood friends, Drake, for how to do so. I had sent the flowers, recited the poetry, and had rained compliments upon her whenever we had crossed paths. She seemed to have enjoyed it enough. Her reactions to my advancements had been so encouraging, that I had risked taking Drake's last piece of advice. It had been that which had finally gotten me thrown into the Ring, which was to break into the Princess's chambers and leave a love letter on her pillow. Apparently breaking into the royal chambers was punishable by death. Who was I to know?

"Princess!" I yelled. She didn't even flinch. Taking a deep breath, I screamed at the top of my lungs, "PRINCESS!!" Finally, the woman's eyes snapped onto me. The relief that coursed through my veins was almost enough to knock me to my knees. "Princess! Please! Have your father release me!"

Instead of concern, or fear for that matter crossing the Princess's face for my inevitable demise, with her eyes still fastened on me, she smiled and waved.

I stared. She waved. She just waved at me. In that simple gesture, the reality of my fate came crashing down upon me like a bucket of hot rocks. I wasn't going to be rescued. The woman I thought I had charmed was watching me fight for my life and... And eating SNACKS!!!

At that moment, all hopes of escape I had been riding on Princess Margaret crumbled into a dust of hopelessness. Terror was quickly erected in its place. I had to get out of here.

I swung my head left and right, searching vainly for some breach or indication of an exit from this ring of death. A sudden, furious shriek made me tear my eyes away from my search just in time to see the Cytalan sprinting toward me, murder brimming in his eyes. I yelped in surprise, and made to run, but he reached me before I could.

A fist slammed into the side of my face. It sent me stumbling back and falling to the dirt. A rough hand grabbed me by the collar of my shirt. I was lifted to my feet--higher--so I was dangling on tiptoes. I flailed and squawked, trying to free myself. He was strong, and his grip was iron.

"Let's see if the dragon likes the taste of coward," he whispered into my ear. Then, to my horror, he began marching straight to the dragon. I twisted and flailed all the more, protesting the whole way. But his stride didn't break. The dragon, its haunches facing us, shifted, and its large head swung toward us, sharp eyes scanning for its next prey. I panicked. Raising my arms up, I plunged downward, slipping quite easily out of my tunic. The man yelled, but before he could apprehend me again, the dragon bounded toward us, neck snaking forward, jaws yawning open. I only glimpsed the surprise on his face before twisting my head the other way. There was a horrible crunching sound.

I was running. An overturned chariot lay in front of me. I dove for it, scrambling beneath its side and looking wildly about for options. One of the banners lining the stone walls fluttered, and I zeroed in on it. If I could get a hold of it, I might be able to climb up and hoist myself into the stands.

Where are you going, little mouse? A shadow fell over me, and I suddenly found myself looking into a very large eye. It was startingly violet, with silver veins spidering across its surface and a diamond-black pupil zeroed in on me. I balked. I had gotten so caught up in strategizing, I had lost track of where the dragon was. Trying to catch my terrorized breath, I grabbed a fistful of sand and threw it at the eye. She reared back, blinking.

Ah, playing games are we, little mouse?

"Any games to get away from you, you overgrown lizard!" I screamed, making a run for it.

I was several yards away when I realized the beast hadn't followed. I risked a glance back and saw her standing motionless, staring after me.

You can hear me? She questioned. Her voice had gained a sharpened edge, now that she was talking to someone other than herself.

"No," I said, then immediately questioned my intelligence.

There was a flash of teeth as the beast bared its fangs, and if I had not been scared witless, I would have thought the corners of its mouth were turning up in a smile. Then, she came lumbering after me. Every step she took sent the ground rumbling, and despite pushing my legs to the point of collapse, I knew she would catch up to me quickly.

I reached the banner and leaped for it. My fingers didn't even touch the bottom. I leaped vainly over and over again like a desperate rabbit trying to escape a hole. I cursed, glancing back and saw the dragon not far away. Those violet orbs were fixed on me, with gleaming slyness. The crowd was pointing at me, leaning out of their seats and laughing. Some even began throwing things--the standard rotten vegetables, fruits and even a crate of the stuff. A crate...

Diving for the wooden box, I planted it against the wall, stepped on top, and jumped as high as I could. My fingers brushed the threads of the banner. I gave a cry of wild hope. Crouching low, I drew all my waning energy to the muscles within my legs. I remained motionless, centering myself, focusing. Warmth bloomed within my stomach. It was the same warmth I felt when on the precipice of accomplishing something incredibly grand, or terribly disastrous. I launched myself, hands reaching, fingers straining upwards, ready to grasp the cloth and...

And was immediately snatched from the air by a large scaly paw.

Impressive, The dragon said, raising me to her head. You're quite the resourceful one, aren't you?

I trembled, hands pressing against the rough scales. "Please," I said faintly. "Please, my dear dragon lady, I pray you release me. I taste of yesterday's pig trough, and I promise you, that won't taste very good."

A rumble rose up through the dragon's throat, and I realized the dragon was laughing.

It has been a long time since anyone has referred to me as, 'lady.' The dragon mused. A very long time.

Despite being terrified for my life, a sudden idea, a ludicrous, desperate idea, hit me on the head. This dragon was a female. A female who probably hadn't been paid a compliment in a long long time. Though I was terrified for my life, I suddenly remembered the lessons Drake had taught me. When wooing a woman...

I swallowed, hardly believing what I was about to do. Fixing a strained smile on my face, I said, "Then I suppose it has been an even longer time since someone has praised your beautiful scales that gleam like clouds on a stormy day, or how your eyes resemble amethyst in the glittering darkness."

The dragon stared at me. The lack of reaction on her part made my heart race wildly. But I held the smile on my face, trying to envision her as the loveliest lizard lady in all the land.

Her eyes narrowed. You are a trickster, then. The voice was clipped and icy, and I realized I had overreached.

"No, my lady," I said hastily, "I assure you that," but my voice was cut off by the growing volume of the crowd. Both I and the dragon glanced toward the stands, where people were beginning to get restless. I realized suddenly that I was the only one left alive in the stadium. I trembled, realizing how dire my circumstances had truly become.

The dragon's gaze returned to me. Though I had never read a dragon's expression before, she looked as if she were weighing several options in her head.

Whisperer, we cannot continue this conversation. The dragon said. The beasts grow impatient.

I was about to ask what beasts she was talking about, when I realized she was referring to the audience. "Oh."

Apologies. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

"What?" I squeaked.

The dragon opened its vast maw and terrifyingly hot air blasted over me. I stared at the lines of razor-sharp fangs, the flickering snake tongue, and the ominous dark hole in the back of the throat. And that's when I did what any courageous person facing such a monstrosity would do. With a whimper, I let the creeping darkness around the edges of my vision consume me. As my thoughts faded to nothing, I faintly