The Little Treasure

Parallel lines of mountains clambered over the landscape, carving lines through the earth. Settled between them was a forest. Enormous trees, millenia old, stretched longingly to the sky. Fluffy white clouds hung low in the sky, taunting the timber below as they silently drifted. A spring breeze ushered them quickly down the valley, as if eager to prevent jealousy from the forest below. Shadows passed over a field of tall grass and mountain flowers. Far from any settlements, this was the perfect lair for an old, solitary dragon that preferred the company of the forest over anything else. Nestled near the center of the meadow lay that dragon. Laying on his back, legs in the air, long neck curled around a pillar of smooth stone, slept Archimedes.

Three crude structures of stone rose from the sea of green. Their construction was simple, being primarily three large slabs of slate pried from the ground, propped against each other, and capped with a fourth piece. Resting inside was Archimedes’ treasure. Thick, leather-bound tomes of parchment stacked neatly against the walls. Posters of papyrus hung on every free space available. Scrolls wrapped in leather filled several open barrels.

Royal purple covered most of Archimedes’ body, veins of deep gold outlining the countless scales. His hide reflected colored sunlight around the crumpled grass, shifting constantly as the lungs of the great wyrm rose and fell. Tangling around each other, the numerous sources of light sending shadows cascading all around the clearing in a bizarre dance. Vestiges of heat dissipated from the boulder. Spring was here, and the warmth leaving the stone was Archimedes’ alarm to awaken for the season.

Slowly waking from his hibernation, Archimedes strolled around the glade to ensure his library had survived the winter. Crude they may be, but the stone huts kept the weather out remarkably well. With one claw he scratched at a bug that had landed on his face, and his paw got caught in the beard of lichen that hadn’t been there at the end of autumn. It cascaded down his chin, nearly two feet of faint green ropy tendrils. A tug and a slight pinch freed his claw, a tangle of beard coming with. He would have to see his reflection before deciding on whether to keep the beard.

Preparing to fly out from the meadow he called home, he stretched his legs. A low groan vibrated through the air, barely audible. Muscular limbs popped as they flexed after months of disuse. Translucent wings flared upward from his knobby shoulder blades, the lavender flesh taut.

Archimedes spent almost half an hour in this position; legs wide, wings to the sky, as much of his body absorbing the warmth of the spring sun as possible. Unmoving he stood, but idle he was not; all of his senses were reattuning themselves to the forest.

A creek ran along the same path as last year, the pleasant sound reminding him of its location. Permeating the forest and field he occupied, Archimedes identified innumerable prey through a combination of senses: grass slithered quietly out of the way of hundreds of hares that scattered throughout the valley. Their musky scent betrayed a herd of elk by the forest. And so many more creatures not worth his time. Wind rose and fell in a chaotic dance, each beat dictated by the weather and geography of the land. The imperceptible subtleties of the air were clear as day to him. Far to the Southwest was the village, smelly and loud with thousands of lives going about their self-proclaimed “important business.”

Suddenly, Archimedes’ wings plummeted towards the ground, his strong legs pushing simultaneously. A deafening thump broke through the breezy morning. Launching into the sky, he fought gravity for several seconds before he had the momentum necessary. Quickly ascending, Archimedes made a beeline for a small cloud that dared to intrude in his domain. Corkscrewing around the cloud, he dipped his claws in, scoring it with several long deep tracks. He snorted in satisfaction that the would-be invader would succumb to its wounds, had it been an actual combatant. Using the thermals he had identified earlier, he spent the rest of the morning floating lazily.

Flying was the best part of being a dragon. Freedom. No rules to follow except any imposed upon oneself. Safety as well. If any harm approached, simply find somewhere else to live. Of course, Archimedes had his library. That would not be an easy task to relocate, even with planning. To mitigate the chances of that being necessary, Archimedes chose to stay in his little corner of the world, nestled between mountains with a forest on all sides, far from anyone else. Quiet. Peaceful. All the things that start to get lost when you live near other creatures were what Archimedes coveted most.

A strange sound broke Archimedes from his meditative flight. Familiar, yet unidentifiable. Curious, he began to dip closer to the forest canopy. Spiraling out from his clearing, Archimedes quickly found the source.

Trees shook as his heavy body allowed gravity to hold him planetside once again. A spectacularly large tree, even for this ancient forest, was posted before him. Claws sinking into the dark and craggy bark, Archimedes silently crawled his way upward and around the enormous tree, keeping as high as the branches would allow. Finally, with the cacophonous screech just below him, he uncurled his neck. His curiosity was replaced with shock: a small human, who would only just come up to his ankles, stood below.

As soon as he laid eyes on the child, Archimedes was able to identify why it sounded familiar. Lots of animals make a remarkably similar sound when they’re left alone. Watching the child, a young girl, he didn’t feel the usual predatory instincts that accompanied say, a young deer that got separated from the herd. Young deer are prey, but this young human was something else. Instead he felt the desire to comfort the child in any way he could.

Archimedes climbed back down the tree; from his experience, young creatures did not take well to being approached from above by a dragon. Most creatures, actually. Feet once again atop the forest floor, he looped around the tree. Approaching her from the front now, Archimedes hid behind a tree. Carefully, he peeked around towards the wailing child. It took her several moments to realize there was something watching her, and her cries only subsided for a second before returning in full force. Whatever this girl had gone through, the sight of a dragon did not frighten her. Inching forward slowly, Archimedes came close to the girl. Keeping low, his head was several feet higher than she.

Silence.

Out of nowhere, she was completely quiet. Grey eyes wide, she stared at the great beast before her. Specifically, she stared at his beard. After several seconds, her hands groped out, entangling themselves within. He flinched away; nothing had ever made attempts to grab at his face in such a nonthreatening way. Even though his head lifted several feet, her grip was strong, and she rose too. As her feet left the ground, a new sound came out of her mouth. Similar to the one she was making before, loud and shrieking, but not in fear this time. Archimedes had not heard a human’s happy sound before, but there was no mistaking it from such a young child.

After being gently lowered back to the ground, her tiny fingers worked out of his beard as she continued giggling. Apparently calmed, Archimedes inspected her fully. Tight ringlets of night grazed her shoulders, framing her wide face. A too-large, plain, brown tunic covered her form, the cuffs of her pants barely peeking out the bottom.

She watched the surrounding forest intensely, eyes wandering as she muttered to herself. Archimedes could understand a word here and there, but it was mostly gibberish. Even if she was fluent, he was not. Fidgeting in place, she began to spin, revealing a knapsack on her back. Pinned to the top was a piece of parchment, a few small lines scratched upon it. With some effort, he was able to crane his neck and mirror her movements well enough to make out what it said:

Gods curse me, but I cannot keep this child. She is too much for me to bear. I entreat you, grand Fay, to take her and raise her better than I am able.

Please forgive me Addie

A gift for the Fay, though there were none here. He had seen a bridge once, during his first winter here, the only time he hadn't hibernated. Bridges between the two worlds were uncommon, and never opened for long.

Addie. That had to be the girl’s name. Archimedes thought long and hard about his next course of action. Strange as it was, he did not like the idea of harm befalling her. Combing through his knowledge of humans, he began to devise a plan. Winter would be the biggest challenge for a simple reason: humans don’t hibernate. Archimedes didn’t need to, but sleeping through the cold months was easier than attempting to feed himself.

While he stood there facing the great tree, Addie’s rotation slowed until she stumbled forward. Caught up in his thoughts, Archimedes didn’t notice when she caught herself with his jaw. Suddenly fascinated with the miasma of color, her little fingers began to softly trace the gold down his neck, babbling quietly to herself. She began walking down the formidable length of Archimedes, hand outstretched. All was quiet around them, only the wind and the birds.

His decision made, Archimedes broke from his trance, expecting to see Addie happily spinning in front of him. His heart quickened when he did not see her where he had left her, lifting his head in search. After several moments, he noticed the faintest pressure on his side, just behind his left leg and moving forward. He swung his head around and was relieved to see her there, finishing the circuit around her guardian’s body. He knew what needed done now.

Flying her home would be too dangerous, he would have to walk her there. He was bad at estimating distance on foot, but guessed it would be in the late evening by the time they arrived.

Dotted along their path was a wide variety of berry bushes, blooming in an array of blues and oranges. Addie seemed to know what was edible, as she gladly ran up to most of the bushes they passed so she could transfer several pieces to her mouth. Before long, her mouth and fingers were stained blue and red from the juice. Her giggles echoed throughout the forest, Archimedes padding quietly beside her, already at peace with the disturbance to his quiet world.

The sun was nearing the horizon when they finally broke through the treeline; the mountains to the west speared the soft pink light of dusk, sending lines of shadow over the valley. Addie had been unable to continue hours ago. Archimedes carried her gently in his jaws like a kitten. She swung limply, dead asleep, astonishingly at ease around Archimedes. After placing Addie down in the clearing, Archimedes immediately set to work.

Piece by piece, page by page, the knowledge contained within the three huts was condensed into one. He was unable to get everything to fit within the one like he needed. To his dismay, he had to sort through it, and ended up having to leave a sizable piece of his library outside. It was hard, but the girl needed the space. Nighttime had begun to peak its head over the eastern mountains by the time he had finished.

He brushed Addie’s shoulder with the tip of his snout to wake her. Despite the soft touch, she still woke with a cry, frantically looking around the clearing. She settled down when she saw Archimedes laying in front of her, his paws stretched before him, a pedestal for his enormous head. Luring her with his beard again, he shepherded her into the now-cleared structure. He laid down next to the building, draping his neck in front of the opening to seal it from the cold night. Addie settled down quickly, surprising Archimedes once again when she laid down next to him, her tiny body pressed into the space where his skull and neck meet. He did not sleep that night, his mind far too preoccupied.

Over the next few weeks, the pair found a routine. Every morning, they would walk to the river to drink and splash around. Hiking through the forest provided plenty of berries for the girl to eat. Back home, he would prepare for winter. Turning a hut into a smoker for food preservation, excavating the new construction site, and finding toys for the child were his first priorities. When he needed to hunt, he would contain her in the shack.

The first step was a better shelter. Around the stone, Archimedes stripped the dirt a few feet down, leaving the rock on an earthen pedestal in the middle of a round hole. The flooring was a foundation of saplings, topped with pine needles, leaves, and dirt. Archimedes stamped it down to provide support, but to maintain some spring to it. The walls provided a much more difficult challenge. Slate had been his primary building material, any other medium was unknown to him. After pondering the dilemma for several days, and focusing instead on fashioning some toys, he finally realized the solution.

On a morning walk, Addie ran off into the forest again, hunting for berries on her little legs, giggling like usual. Waiting for her to return, Archimedes watched a pair of small birds flitting through the golden sunlight. After several minutes, they settled on the ground and collected a mouthful of reeds before skimming back overhead. He saw them land in a nearby tree and begin weaving the new grass into the frame of their nest. Inspired, Archimedes rushed Addie home, penning her in to go experiment. He ignored her usual upset cries as he flew away.

Landing near the northern tree line of the clearing, he set to work. His tail could flatten it, but couldn't cut it. Sharp claws lashed out, scything through the grass. This was slow. It would take all summer to collect the materials needed. After thinking a while longer, he tried a marriage of the two attempts. Instead of using just his claws, he extended his leg all the way, flattening the grass. Twisting, so his claws were perpendicular to the ground, he dragged it back, catching and raising the grass to cut it in the same motion. In such a way, Archimedes was able to cut down large strips at a time.

By mid-spring, the hut was complete. Within a week of moving in, a storm crashed through the valley. Rain leaked from multiple places, proving the structure was not woven tightly enough. Addie was moved into the slate hut while the storm raged. The smoker had a batch of meat preparing, Archimedes had to remove a piece of the library in order to keep Addie safe. More of his collection was lost to the weather, his careful stacking could only do so much against the forces of nature.

Archimedes set to work reconstructing after the dark clouds passed. He spent hours waiting at the forest edge with Addie, watching the pair of birds that had been his source of inspiration. From them, he devised a way to get the weave necessary to keep them safe from the weather.

At the beginning of summer, another storm rolled in. Archimedes was pleased to find the hut repelled the initial torrent. They spent several days waiting it out, playing together and enjoying each other's company. On the morning of the second day, Archimedes woke to a startling sight: the roof of their nest had become waterlogged, and began to collapse inward. He knew it would need to be reconstructed again, so he moved Addie back into the temporary hut immediately and got to work.The walls of the smoker had become dirty and unfit for Addie to live around. It took Archimedes several hours of reorganizing before he was content with what his library would lose, but Addie was kept dry and warm.

With the storm still pouring, he watched the bird's nest to see how it fared. He quickly discovered the secret: the nest was settled into a tiny alcove of the tree. A large branch jutted out just above, creating a vertical channel where the water almost never struck.

Days passed with constant rain. Lightning arced through the clouds, casting strange shadows throughout the valley, accompanied by roaring thunder. Archimedes stuck his head inside the stone shelter and kept Addie company while she was stuck inside. She played constantly, punctuated with sporadic naps, keeping occupied while the storm raged.

During the fifth night, as the two slept, the storm finally broke. They spent the entire day running through the field and playing together, Addie’s boundless energy set free once again.

After reconstructing a new hut, he got to work on his next plan. With some practice, he was finally able to strip long sections of bark off the trees. Countless trees were sacrificed, leaving a large swath of forest naked. After transporting cylinders of bark home, he would quarter it and punch a hole at each end. Long strips of dried grass had been carefully knotted into long simple ropes, which he threaded through the holes. Many ropes were tied together, making a dress of shingles that draped over the cone shaped hut snugly. He found himself constantly fidgeting with the new shingles. Rebuilding the structure a third time was not an enticing idea.

The third hut was large and tall, coming to a soft point. From the inside, the walls seemed to tornado upward, but from the outside there was not an inch of grass to be seen. All was covered with shingles. Several holes were carved into the sides: one just off the ground, big enough for Archimedes, and two windows higher up. Separate sheets of grass and shingles were fashioned for each.

Inside was dark and warm. A staircase had been dug from the entrance, so they would be standing just below ground level. The springy floor only occasionally poked one of them with a branch. In the center was the large rock that Archimedes used through his previous hibernations. Its function remained the same, even with the new winter plan.

The rest of the summer passed in a haze of pollen. Countless flowers and trees were all vying for attention, and the normally blue sky was tinged brown from it all. All sorts of wildlife abounded through the valley. All of Addie’s time was spent playing and running through the meadow, creating tracks everywhere she went. Every morning, Archimedes would adjust the shingles, constantly nervous. There were no more storms that summer to test his construction.

Something about spending time with Addie made the seasons fly by. Before they knew it, summer had ended. The dew that normally accompanied their morning treks began freezing overnight, marking winter’s approach. Birds migrated south in anticipation of the cold, and the bears in the area all began to insulate themselves for hibernation.

With summer behind them, the winter’s chill began to loom. Addie was less inclined to run around all day in the cold. Half the forest was bare, branches devoid of the usual leaves that sheathed them. Autumn gave way to winter, and Archimedes found himself awake during a part of the year he had slept through for hundreds of years. The clearing looked barren and alien without the usual grass, the twisting branches of the surrounding trees jagged and angry.

They had a small feast the evening of the winter solstice. Sunlight streamed through the open window. Archimedes lay wrapped around the boulder next to a barrel of food he had tipped over for Addie. She dove into the mess of food, tunneling through and emerging from the other side, a slice of deer in one hand and a vine of raisins in the other. She ran gleefully around the perimeter of the hut, stomping a path that had been worn out over several months.

Afternoon gave way to evening, the harsh winter light softening with the sun’s descent. Dazzling colors stretched eastward in a sight common to the valley. Having eaten her fill, Addie collapsed over Archimedes’ tail. He ate slowly while the light drained from the sky, his long tongue snaking out to avoid disturbing the girl sleeping on him. A blanket of clouds rolled in from the south. Snow draped down, covering everything in a pristine white coat.

Sweeping down, flakes of snow coalesced in the branches of an enormous tree far to the South. The ice began to form a bridge, the normally strong barrier between worlds thinned by the solstice. A mosaic of green, blue, and white wove between the branches, freezing unnaturally into an enormous orb.

Pale blue, purple, and green dots swirled around the frozen bridge, loosely orbiting each other. Hardening in the cold, the colors gained more substance. The blue of a summer sky darkened to match the ocean. Lavender swirls became almost black. Lights like spring grass began to match to the pine trees around it.

All at once, the lights stopped moving. Simultaneously, a figure stepped from between the tangled roots. A wall of fog shrouded him, a cloak of intangible magic around his thin shoulders. He wore a toga that left his muscular limbs free and most of his chest bare, defined lines rippling as he walked. Wings sprouted from the back of his calves, pure white feathers reaching his waist. Cheekbones arched high over his full lips, clenched tight at the sight of the empty clearing. Illuminated from within by the same lights as the tree, his skin was almost translucent.

He looked up, marveling at the bridge that had brought him here. He witnessed it every year, and had done so for longer than he could remember, but its beauty still struck him. Here, the wall between worlds only thinned for travel on the winter solstice. The rest of the year it was simply a viewing portal, for those who knew to listen. He had seen the woman abandon her child, as a gift. Seen her cry, pray, beg at the roots of the mighty tree, all to no avail; nothing could be done. Her timing would not allow it.

Then the dragon came. He had seen the dragon several times, but only passing through. He expected the girl to be eaten immediately. Instead, he watched Archimedes read the note attached on her back and shepherd her away. He must know the girl was a gift for him. Thus he set off from the gate, to collect what was rightfully his.

Zipping through the woods, flying as the birds that had left for the season, he quickly found the meadow where Archimedes and Addie slept. The celestial light above illuminated the grounds enough to show the four huts. Inside one of the stone structures, he saw a small collection of books was the only thing of interest. Circling the grass hut, he saw the patch of shingles that betrayed the door, and easily pried it out of position before stepping inside.

When he opened his mouth to speak, the voice that came out spoke a different tongue than the girl’s limited vocabulary, “I am Vindre, and I have come for the child. She was given to the Fay, and as the only one nearby, she is mine by right.”

Low and quiet, the sound wormed through the air before slithering into Archimedes’ ears, penetrating his dreams immediately. Raising his head off the floor, he saw the glowing figure before him at once. He recognized the language of the Fay. Long-unused vocal cords rasped together to form a language he was capable of communicating with, “She was left for you three seasons ago. If you wanted her, you should have come then. You will not have her.”

“You dare to oppose me? I have greater magic at my fingers than you are capable of understanding. Taking her by force is an option. She will be mine, and you won't stand between us for long." He held his hand up to his face, fingers splayed. The color illuminating them intensified, lighting the room like midday.

Addie slowly opened her eyes to see Vindre standing in the doorway with his arm raised. Archimedes noticed her shifting within the folds of his tail and knew she had awakened.

“No. Make any threats you like, but you. Will. Not. Have. Her.” Each pause was punctuated with claws biting the floor as he stood. His tail looped around Addie, cradling her off to the side, away from the intruder.

Vindre took a step forward, arm stretched out. Purple and green intersected at the tip of his middle and index fingers, orbiting each other in tighter circles until they were grey spots, brightening even further. Snapping together, a grey beam of light blasted outward, arcing with the curve of the hut towards Addie.

Archimedes snapped his tail around to protect his child. Barely too slow, the light grazed the tip of his tail. Small grey tendrils exploded outward upon impact. Everywhere it touched disappeared in a flash. Wooden shingles were now visible in a section of the wall. Two small craters formed in the tamped dirt. Where had been the last six inches of Archimedes’ tail was now nothing.

Archimedes flared his wings and growled, rattling the shingles. Addie screamed, frightening Archimedes more than losing his tail. He yelled over the wails of the girl, “I am the protector of this child! Without me she would have perished in the wilderness long ago. She will not be going anywhere with you.”

Vindre took another step forward and raised his other hand, blue sparks traveling to his fingers, not unnoticed by Archimedes. Vindre’s eyes and jaw tightened, his calm voice wavering, he said, “Your desires do not matter. She was a gift to the fay. The rules have stood unbroken for eternity, and a child such as yourself will not be the one to stop it.”

The sapphire in his fingertips focused as he clasped his hands together. A cyclone of blue fire spiraled outward, igniting the walls with ease. Archimedes crouched backward to protect Addie from the blast, pulling his wings back to shield them. But he was too slow, the ring of fire singed the tips of his wings as he pulled them from the wall.

Grunting in pain, Archimedes’ wings settled around Addie, her cries louder to him than the inferno. Turning back to Vindre, he roared over the flames, “I am no more a child than this girl is your property. I am neither human nor Fay, and am unbound by your whims. You will never take her from me!”

Archimedes sprang towards the door, landing next to the fairy, who was only slightly taller than Addie herself. Smoke filled the hut, from the flames enshrouding the walls and the fire brimming from Archimedes’ maw. He swiped at Vindre with both paws, who dodged away from the first strike but was too slow to avoid the second. A single claw scratched his thigh, carving a bloody canyon through the muscle.

Vindre screeched and clasped his hands around his bleeding leg, the dragon and girl momentarily forgotten in the agony of the flesh. It had been eons since he had experienced pain like this.

With his foe distracted, Archimedes struck again, catching him fully and throwing him into the wall. Ash rained as the hut began collapsing. With his tail still around Addie, he leapt through the door.

Escaping from the fire, the cold air was a welcome relief, crisp and clean. Retreating to the roof of a hut, the vestiges of his collection inside, he sat with Addie while she cried, huddled in his now-slightly-shorter tail. Soft flakes of snow landed on them, soothing his burns while also distracting the girl.

Their chilly respite only lasted for a minute before the flaming wreckage pushed upward from underneath. Archimedes raised his wings, ready to flee.

The ruins were suddenly launched skyward. A beam of energy twisted up; blacker than the night, the beam absorbed all light, leaving only a vague impression of space where there should be field, forest, stars. Archimedes wasted no time. Fairies were not the only ones capable of producing fire.

Pendulously swinging his head, golden flames shot out, purple embers trailing behind. Much of the clearing ignited under his wrath. Flapping with all his strength, he hauled Addie to safety. A shower of wood fell from the sky, creating an agility course for the escaping dragon.

Successfully maneuvering through the flames, Archimedes looked back towards what had been his home for so long. The silhouette of Vindre was clearly visible, illuminated from behind by the ravenous fiery beast. After several moments, Vindre turned away and disappeared. Archimedes watched his departure, and saw in the distance a bulge in the treeline: a tree encapsulated in ice and illuminated by the same colors as Vindre. After several minutes, the light dimmed, and the icy branches thawed, dripping into the forest below.

Archimedes looked back at his home and felt a pang of remorse for abandoning the last of his archive. It quickly washed away as Addie hugged his tail, dangling underneath him like a vine. His decision made, he turned away from his centuries-long abode, away from everything he had built for her. Finding a suitable new home far enough away would take time. But that time would be well spent with his new treasure.