The Garrettsford Dragons

There weren’t always dragons in the valley.

For years beyond counting, dragons resided on their own continent: an enormous and rocky isle to the north that people referred to as Citrine. It was so named due to the unusual shade of yellow of a dragon's eye: a yellow that could catch the light and was found nowhere else in nature apart from the citrine stone.

Most dragons in those days had scales a glistening green; often slick and shimmering with moisture from long hours of flight to find food to bring back to their island. Citrine had long since sunken into the sea, and for reasons unknown to man, dragons had never settled in one place as a colony again. After the fall of their beloved isle, two to three dragons would sometimes fly together and rest in the caves of clouded mountain peaks nearby. Seldom were they seen soaring above densely populated villages or found anywhere people lived in large numbers.

That is, of course, until now.

In the valley of Garrettsford, at Oxley, there were not one, but two, dragons. A mated pair.

They had been captured by a contingent of heavily armored sorcerers in the dead of night.

But how do you subdue one dragon, you might ask, let alone two.

With thick iron arrows dipped in dragonsbane, of course. Distilled from the rarest plant on the eastern seaboard. While the dragons were asleep.

The fact that they were asleep had been a happy accident. It was quite serendipitous indeed, really, for the sorcerers’ guild, many of whom had never expected to return to their beds.

And how did they get them down the mountain, you might be wondering?

Why with magic, certainly.

So now Garretsford had two dragons. And folk paid admission to see them.

*****

“What do you reckon? Ten, twelve tons at least?”

It was the fourth time someone had asked me that, this morning. It was probably the fortieth time this week. I usually stopped counting by midday.

“Yeah” I agreed with a sigh “at least.”

“You sure those chains’ll hold ‘er?” the man asked. He looked doubtful.

“Pretty sure” I said, and shrugged.

“Awful big beasts ain’t they? And a right strange coloring they got too” he said, before refilling his pipe and lighting it with a thoughtful air.

I didn’t bother to reply and kept sweeping up the cobbled path which circled the dirt-floored arena where the female dragon was kept.

Originally it had housed them both, on opposite ends. The arena was gigantic. But they had frequently made a keening, miserable cry for each-other and had to be separated. It was physically painful to hear it. The ground rattled whenever they made a sound.

The male had apparently become despondent since being moved. He was currently being kept in the ruins of an old castle tower outside the city gates, where the guild guarded him day and night.

To what end, no one knew exactly.

The female dragon, on the other hand, had been visibly enraged as they took her mate further from the arena. She was unable to breathe fire since her capture, however, so her displays of rage had been reduced to loudly stomping as much as her heavy chains would allow.

Apparently the dragonsbane kept the dragons from using their magic, including breathing fire. Flight too, I imagined, considering how their sheer size and weight should prevent them from flying without the aid of magic.

No one was entirely sure what other abilities dragons possessed.

It was widely theorized that they had a way of communicating with one another, although no one was sure how. Whether they could communicate with other species, or with us lowly humans, was anyone’s guess.

Regardless, no magic: no powers. Presumably, anyway.

In their current state the Garrettsford Dragons (as they were referred to by the public) were basically just large reptiles. Or lizards. I could never really decide on which.

But what perplexed me the most about the dragons, was why they were here. I couldn’t figure out why the guild bothered to capture them in the first place. It seemed rather a foolhardy mission to begin with, for the measly sum they were receiving in ticket sales. There were only so many people in Garrettsford, after all, and even in neighboring towns and villages. Eventually that coin would dry up. And really it wasn’t enough gold to risk your life over, particularly if you were in the guild.

The whole thing felt wrong, somehow, for many reasons. Not the least of which was how miserable the dragons were.

“Oi! Broomboy!” someone shouted, startling me out of my reverie “wasser name? The dragon, like.”

I looked up to see a man pointing wildly at the dragon as though I didn’t understand the question.

“I don’t know, sir” I said, turning away.

“How can it be you don’t know ‘er name, lad? Bloody big dragon right ‘ere. You work ‘ere or not?”

“I’m just a groundskeeper” I said “if she has a name, no one’s told me.”

“Leave him be, Jay,” said a much gentler voice.

I looked up to see a young woman approaching the slightly older and rather rough-looking man.

“He’s just trying to do his job” she added, before shooting me an apologetic smile. I inclined my head at her gratefully.

“Come on,” she said to the man, “let’s get those pies and head back.”

He grunted something unintelligible in reply as they retreated towards the rear gate.

After they left, I realized I hadn’t stopped to consider whether the dragon did have a name, and what it would be if she did.

What language would her name be in, I wondered, dragonish?

No, surely not. I looked up from the dusty path at the magnificent creature chained up before me. I noticed that for the moment, the dragon and I were totally alone in the arena. As far as I knew, that had never happened before, as there had always been plenty of gawkers since the dragons arrived, several fortnights back.

I had never gotten any closer than I was right now, which wasn’t technically in the arena but rather on the periphery. The dragon was standing quite still, while seemingly observing her surroundings, and, by extension, me. Her great yellow eyes sparkled in the late morning sun.

Suddenly, her gaze pierced mine.

And in that instant, all I could feel was deep, endless sadness. It was as bottomless as the darkest depths of the sea. It was so heavy I had to stop my knees from buckling under the weight of it.

I tried to look away but found I couldn’t.

The weight grew heavier. It was crushing me. All I could feel was despair. It was so heavy, and I was helpless, and I was trapped here in this arena, and I couldn’t breathe-

The dragon blinked, once, and I found myself gasping for air as the sensation of fathomless loss disappeared. I leaned all my weight on my feeble broom for support which collapsed underneath me, and I fell into a pile of dirt and debris.

I looked back up at the dragon, to what might have been the edges of satisfaction in her expression.

At that moment, the young woman from before reappeared, this time at the side gate of the arena, and saw me lying in a pile of dirt.

She hurriedly rushed to me as I was standing up to brush myself off.

“Oh my goodness are you alright?” She asked, plainly unsure if she should help me brush the dust off my tunic.

“Yes, slipped is all” I said. I could feel my cheeks flush red with embarrassment, so I coughed a little as a distraction.

“How did you slip? The road is as dry as an autumn field.” She replied, concerned.

“The old broom must have snagged on a cobble,” I said. I figured it was as good an excuse as any.

“Right” she replied “well my brother thinks he dropped a timepiece around here somewhere. I said I’d come back and look.”

“Would you like some help, miss-

“Gemma” she said, “And no, thank you. I’ll be here but a moment.”

“I’m Stefan. And I’m happy to help if you change your mind.”

“Pleased to meet you” she said, with a smile. She then headed off to the left a few yards and crouched down to sift through the dirt with a short stick.

I looked back up at the dragon, but she was turned in the opposite direction now, picking at a large hunk of venison that the village gamekeeper had been reluctantly hauling in by wagonload twice a week.

I supposed it was a good thing she had an appetite, even if I was certain somehow that it wouldn’t have been her preferred method of feeding herself.

“There you are!” I heard Gemma exclaim to herself, as she lifted a small shiny object from the ground.

“I’m glad you found it,” I said.

“Not as glad as I am” she replied, her face grave “it’s our father’s timepiece. One of the reasons we came into the village today was to drop it off for repair.”

I nodded in understanding. My folks often had me run errands as well and were quick to box my ears if I somehow didn’t complete the task. They weren’t a mean sort, my parents, they just expected me to pull my weight.

“I must be off” Gemma said “I’ll see you around, Stefan” she added with a wave.

Once she was around the corner and out of sight, the dragon turned back towards me. I was careful to avoid meeting her eyes this time, quickly looking in another direction. The dragon began shuffling her feet in what seemed an impatient motion. I picked up my broom and began sweeping, in an effort to ignore her. Never again did I want to feel as I had felt before, brief as it had been.

But she wasn’t having it.

When she realized the shuffling wasn’t catching my attention, she began stomping. And when a creature that weighs more than ten tons stomps, you pay attention. In spite of myself, I looked up and met her gaze, once again.

This time, a sensation of apprehension overtook me. As though the dragon were feeling uncertain about making this connection with me, as well. Eventually it abated and was replaced with what can only be described as resolve.

And then there was a voice inside my head which wasn’t my own.

“Youngling” it said “it has been years beyond remembering since our kind has sought to communicate with man. Even now, it pains me deeply to divulge this ability. I debase myself in the eyes of my brethren to do so. However I require your aid.”