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The Sigil of the Dragon

A fantasy short story

By Zack DuncanPublished about a year ago 22 min read
Runner-Up in Christopher Paolini's Fantasy Fiction Challenge
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The mist clung to the ground, set to disappear as soon as the sun warmed the world again. In these early hours, only the slightest stains of pink and blue streaked across the sky, though the legendary canopy of the Hornhook Forest blotted this out. These twisted branches reached for the heavens, longing to get out, but none ever did. Navigating these lands was enough to drive one mad.

Through the fog Lazyro walked, his enormous feet sinking into the mud and leaving prints that would later make lost villagers tremble in fear. Lazyro had no difficulty seeing in these pre-dawn hours. His eyes, like large golden plates, would collect even the faintest starlight and paint the world around him in vivid color. He could navigate his way through the forest with ease and had traversed this very trail many times before. This was why he was so surprised. The clearing ahead of him – where the dead husks of long-ago trees gave way to a bed of moss – should have been an easy place for a dragon to nap. It should have been empty.

Instead of an empty resting place, Lazyro found himself facing a young, human girl. The girl could not have been more than three or four, though Lazyro was very unfamiliar with how humans measured time. The girl was standing there, motionless, gazing down at her own feet. Her cheeks were covered with dirt but for where her tears had washed it away.

The first thing Lazyro noticed, aside from the mop of bright blond hair, was the sigil on the girl’s chest. Her tunic was marked with a blue crescent moon and star. Lazyro knew this to be the mark of a faraway group of men. He forgot their name – or more truthfully, had never cared to learn it – but knew they laid claim to the lands around the mountains. This forest was a great distance from their home.

The nearest group of men – and to Lazyro’s knowledge the only ones who laid claim to any parts of Hornhook forest – were the tall and ferocious fighters known as the Chimerans. The Chimeran crest was that of a red owl. The Chimerans were feared across the realm of humankind; they waged many wars, taking what they wanted and burning the rest.

On many occasions Lazyro had flown over Chimeran camps, with their red owl banners waving proud. He had seen them cleaning up after their battles, washing their weapons of blood, and discarding the enemies they had slain. Those enemies wore armour branded with different symbols. Some, the yellow suns of the Northern Folk. Others, the green towers of the Sea Tribes. And others still, the same blue moon and star that this girl wore.

The girl was not safe here. Lazyro stepped forward into the clearing, expecting to frighten the girl into action. Move you fool. You will be killed if you stay here. For Lazyro knew that the realm of humankind did not get along as the realm of dragons did. Whereas dragons had no bias whatsoever to those who looked like them, whether it be the color of their scales or the shape of their wings, men could be prejudiced and violent towards such visible differences.

It was a strange thing, to find such a young child alone in these parts. Stranger still, was what the girl held. Tucked under the girl’s arm was a piglet.

The piglet was soft and pink with a single black strip running down its back. It seemed to be asleep, its face stuffed into the girl’s side. Lazyro wasn’t sure what the girl was doing with her meal held that way, but then he recounted that humans had this habit of keeping their prey for company. Perhaps the girl didn’t intend on eating this pig.

Lazyro craned his neck to get a closer look, and in doing so, drew the pig’s attention. It awoke and sniffed at the air. The girl finally looked up, too. She stared straight into Lazyro’s eyes, not appearing to register the threat.

I am a dragon, child, run! But the girl did not seem to tremble with fear the same way most did when they saw one of Lazyro’s kind. Lazyro had teeth like swords, stood as tall as trees, and, if the occasion called for it, could spew flames hot enough to melt flesh from bone. Yet this girl’s face did not bely fear. If anything, in the girl’s eyes Lazyro saw… admiration?

Suddenly, there was a cry off in the distance. The source was obfuscated by the mist. Lazyro looked, and even with his dragon eyes could barely make out the shape of men through the trees. They were still far away but closing fast.

They are coming, child. These are not your people. You must move.

Still no reaction from the girl. The pig was equally uninspired into action.

Lazyro let out a roar. It began in his belly and erupted through his long, silvery-scaled neck, shaking the branches of the trees around them, and sending mourning doves fleeing into the sky. Lazyro hoped it would serve to frighten the girl into fleeing, or perhaps prevent the men from advancing. But through the mist he could see the men forging ahead.

Have I lost that which makes me fierce? Lazyro wondered. For a moment he pondered if the girl could understand him, for the way dragons communicated with their thoughts was quite delicate. But Lazyro had never met a being who could not comprehend his words. No, this was not an error in communication, it was a lack of appreciation for his strength.

Frustrated that neither the girl, the pig, nor her pursuers were frightened of him, Lazyro sighed, realizing there was no other choice. He took another step closer to the child, dipped, and extended his right wing. It unfurled with a thud, landing next to the girl, and providing her a ramp to Lazyro’s back. Get on, or else you will surely perish.

The girl did not move.

Now it was too late. An arrow hurled through the trees. Lazyro’s excellent hearing pre-empted it, and he was able to shield the girl. The arrow glanced off Lazyro’s wing as he protected the child, stinging but not drawing blood. He roared again.

Losing his patience, Lazyro reached out with his front foot, talons wrapping themselves around the girl. He was gentle, for he knew mankind had very soft bones, and he scooped up the girl and her pet.

By now the men had emerged into the clearing. There were three of them, each with their chestplates painted in the fiery red crest of the owl. The marks upon their armor were so vibrant that they glowed like rubies. One man had an arrow notched, and he let it fly in Lazyro’s direction. Only the Chimerans would be foolish enough to do such a thing. Aggressive and brutal, but never smart. The arrow bounced off Lazyro’s armoured neck and fell harmlessly aside.

You should think twice before firing at a dragon, mortals. Lazyro raged. He kicked up on his hind legs and with his free front paw, lashed out at the archer. His claws raked across the man’s chest, and he crumped to the earth. The other two men took a step back, but one quickly rallied, drawing a spear, and lunged at Lazyro. Lazyro blocked this by whipping his tail around. It knocked the spear from the man’s hands on the first pass, and as it lashed back around it swept the man’s feet out from under him.

Lazyro had had enough. He pushed away from the ground, the entire forest trembling as he rose into the air. His wings unfolded quickly, catching the morning breeze like the sails on a ship, and he pushed himself into the heavens. Lazyro looked down upon the last of the Chimeran warriors and fired off a warning shot, a small fireball that was meant to maim. It hit the man squarely in the face and sent him somersaulting backwards…

And from there I brought you back to my den and decided to raise you as my own.

The forest disappeared, as did the entire vision around it. The whole scene had been an elaborate hallucination brought on by the Mystic. Reality settled back in, and the blond girl – now a teenager – sat in a large cave staring at Lazyro as he told his tale. The piglet, now a full-bellied, sturdy hog, sat curled up next to her.

“I can always tell when you’re lying,” The girl said. “Because your stories move too quickly. And the colors shimmer. The red on those warriors’ chests sparkled like gemstones. Because what you said never really happened. You dragons also always tell things in threes. And wasn’t it convenient that there were exactly three soldiers you saw in the woods. The Chimerans never travel in groups that small.”

Do not call me a liar, Talia.

“You are a liar,” Talia said. The lost child from the forest had turned into a defiant young woman. Over the years her body had changed, as had her spirit. “That is what the Mystic will reveal.”

They were seated in a cave, one large enough that the ceiling was still many feet above Lazyro’s head. On the walls were painted the visions of others before them, left behind in ink as a reminder of the Mystic’s powers.

The Mystic, a bald man with skin painted a deep purple and wearing a white tunic as bright as the moon, sat motionless in between them. The Mystic held in his hands a long, golden pipe. The pipe was filled with the burning husk of an old root, the name of which Lazyro could never pronounce.

When the Mystic smoked the pipe, the stories of those around him came to life in a powerful vision. Those who inhaled the smoke – which was by now pervading the entire cave – would see the storyteller’s tale as if it were really happening. The only catch was everything was skewed towards the teller’s perspective, and stories varied based on who was speaking. Dragons, for example, always tended to tell stories with exaggerated details, and with a brightness that made humans dizzy.

Talia had dragged them here, eager to prove her origin. Lazyro huffed, finding her to be ungrateful and defiant. Talia longed to leave behind the plains where Lazyro had taught her to hunt and was eager to get away from the dragon who raised and protected her. This newfound defiance started after a recent foraging trip into the forest, where Talia encountered a young man. His charm had lured her. He told her about his village, about their roads and their taverns and their gardens, and now she wanted to go see for herself. Lazyro forbade her to go. Ever stubborn, she now believed herself a captive, held in this land of the dragons against her will.

Rebellious adolescent. Lazyro puffed out a cloud of smoke from his nostrils. For all the sharp teeth and claws, even a dragon does not possess the audacity to defy their elders in this way.

“You need to let me go,” Talia said. “I need to be around my people. I need to see them.”

Why? What will they do for you? Will they teach you which bark makes a fire strong enough to keep you warm through the winter?

“I am not a dragon,” Talia crossed her arms over her chest. Her tunic no longer held a crest on it As she grew up Lazyro had resorted to looting to find her clothes that fit. But they always removed the markings, as to not identify her with one clan or another. It had never seemed an issue until now. Now, Talia saw her inconspicuous nature as a lack of belonging. She looked at her porcine companion for reinforcement. “And Truffle is not a dragon either. We were not yours to take.”

Take? Lazyro snorted. I saved you.

Truffle snorted, which Lazyro took to be an argument.

“Well, we do not believe your story,” Talia said. “I told you. The reds were too glittery.”

Then what do you think happened, girl?

So, Talia began to speak. And as she did, the world around them took shape. They were back in the forest, with mist clinging to the ground. Only this time, it was much darker. For Talia’s eyes were not dragon eyes, and the day had not yet started.

Talia could barely see her breath rising into the air before her very face. She was trying her best not to cry anymore, though she was lost and afraid. Her fists were rolled into tight balls, trying to keep her fingers warm, and she clutched Truffle to her chest to keep him from freezing. She was young, and her mind raced with frantic thoughts, but she distracted herself watching the tendrils of steam rise from her unsteady breathing. She watched them rise and dissipate, until a pair of golden orbs appeared beyond them, in the shadows.

Dragon eyes.

The earth shook as the dragon took a step forward. It growled. Talia, four years old and the size of a juniper branch, was too stunned to move. She just stared straight ahead, hoping the beast would not eat her.

Eat you?! Lazyro interrupted the story.

“Let me finish,” Talia snipped. “This is my story.”

The forest had started to fade, and for a moment they saw the face of the Mystic, smoking from his pipe. But then the vision resumed and once again the golden eyes stared at Talia in the darkness.

“Talia!” A voice cried out in the forest. Talia turned towards the source, and went to run, but before she could move Lazyro unfurled one giant wing and blocked her path. She was stuck.

There was more shouting in the woods. Voices Talia recognized. Her heart started racing as she longed to get to them, but the giant beast was still obstructing the way.

The sound of foosteps carried from the shadows, as those who called out were growing nearer. This upset the dragon, and he reared back onto his hind legs. With one powerful paw he reached out and plucked Talia from the earth. His grip was strong, his talons sharp, but luckily Talia was thin enough to fit in the space between his talons and the pad of his foot, and so she was not crushed.

If I wanted to crush you, I could have, Lazyro interjected again.

“Enough!” Talia shushed him and then continued.

Finally, three men emerged from the forest, and Talia could just make out their shapes as they approached. The men wore armour, each marked with the same insignia that she bore on her chest: the blue moon and star. These were her people.

Talia wanted to yell for help, but she was so tightly squeezed into the dragon’s paw that she couldn’t muster the breath. One of her rescuers threw his spear at the dragon in front of them, but it glanced harmlessly off the dragon’s scales.

Foolish humans, the dragon cackled. He reached out with his free hand, and with his razor-sharp talons sliced one of the men in half.

Then the dragon whipped around, allowing its tail to swing towards the men, and he crushed the second man against the trunk of a towering oak tree.

At last, the dragon rose into the air, its wings pushing its enormous heft into the sky. Once clear of the tree line, the dragon looked down, its eyes narrowed with disdain, and cascaded down a hellish trail of flame that lit up the entire forest. Talia could hear the third man scream as he was burned alive.

“And then you brought me home, a human pet to raise as you wished,” Talia snarled. “I’m only thankful you didn’t eat me.

Lazyro stared at her for a long, silent moment, eyes unblinking.

I do not have ‘enormous heft’. I am, actually, quite lean for a dragon.

“Is that all your care about?”

Clearly you don’t believe that, Lazyro shook his titanic head. For ten years you think I’ve been raising you as a pet? I’ve shown you the bones of my ancestors. I’ve taught you how to track the herds of the wild deer. And besides, your story was too dark. You can’t say for certain that any of those details were true. The crest on their armor, for instance. You were merely a toddler. Your memory is not to be trusted. I could see it in the way the forest was shaped. The trees were all funny and the men’s faces were askew.

“It’s the truth.”

Well, believe it if you wish, but I was the one who raised you. Lazyro shifted his weight around, his scales jingling and sending echoes through the cave. I am the one who provides you with a place to sleep and food to eat. And I forbid you from entering the realm of humankind from which I saved you.

“And I refuse to be a captive, so what do we do?” Talia’s arms were still crossed in a posture of immature resistance. Lazyro knew she was trying to appear strong. But he was also the one who slid over closer to her in the middle of the night, when she screamed from nightmares.

The girl wanted independence. It was to be expected. Lazyro had left his mother’s nest once upon a time too, when he was old enough to fly on his own. Talia was certainly old enough to fly. But it didn’t make it any easier for Lazyro. He had seen too many bad men.

“You know, there is another here who may yet have something to offer,” It was the Mystic who broke the long silence. Lazyro and Talia both turned their attention to the man, stunned. He hadn’t said a word during this entire transaction. His voice was raspy, filled with wisdom. “Perhaps there lays a version of the truth somewhere between your tales. There is yet another perspective to seek.”

“Who? You weren’t there?” Talia scoffed, believing the Mystic was referring to himself. The Mystic did not respond, but his deep, glossy eyes wondered over towards the hog.

“Truffle?” Talia gasped. Beside her, Lazyro’s throat rumbled with the uneven waves of dragon laughter. “But Truffle is just a pig.”

“And you are just a child. And Lazyro is just a dragon,” The Mystic said, mocking her. “Would you really dismiss him just for being smaller than you?” Talia, who all her life had to crane her neck just to look Lazyro in the eyes, blushed in embarrassment. The Mystic turned fully to face Truffle. “Come, my friend, let us see what it is you have to say.”

The Mystic reloaded his golden pipe, took a long drag in, and then released an enormous cloud of smoke that felt larger than anything he should have been able to hold in his lungs. The smoke wafted over Truffle’s face, and he began to snort and grunt. Soon his bellows transformed into the sounds of battle. There was a great deal of noise that seemed to be coming from all sides. Crashing and yelling and the sound of metal on metal distorted the world and made it hard to decipher what was happening.

The forest floor was shaking and jostling as Truffle the piglet scurried across it. His night vision was better than Talia’s, but the world was not quite as vivid as Lazyro had recounted. It helped, however, that the forest seemed to be set ablaze. Everything was stained in an orange-grey hue. Truffle had to keep correcting his course as he zigzagged frantically away from tongues of flame.

Suddenly, a pair of hands reached down and scooped Truffle up. He squealed, resisting at first, but when set eyes on his captor he saw the kind eyes of a young girl staring back. It was Talia. She looked down at him with empathy beyond her years. “I help.”

Truffle’s breathing was erratic, but he stopped fighting the girl’s grip, feeling that being in her arms was as safe a place as any in this chaos. His little eyes began to dart around and take in the scene. Behind them torchlight illuminated the forest. There was a camp with makeshift tents and torches on poles. The banners that hung around the camp were marked with the sigil of a red owl. A large wagon sat in the center of the camp, and upon it rested a terrifying, colossal ornament: a dragon’s skull.

Dozens of soldiers bolted from the camp into the swirling mist and shadows in the forest beyond, each of them armed with a large blade or staff. The men who charged into the forest seemed to be chasing something.

“Hurry,” One soldier called out. “We have the first one trapped.”

“Go for the head,” Another shouted.

Truffle watched the men disappear one by one into the darkness. Without warning, a large plume of flame erupted, casting the world in light. Truffle saw two dragons. The larger of the pair was on its hindlegs and providing the source of the flame, while the smaller one lay on its side, shielding itself with its wings drawn in tight. Tiny outlines of soldiers darted around them, backlit by the inferno. Truffle stared in awe as the silhouettes aimed their spears at the downed dragon.

At first, the larger dragon was able to keep the soldiers at bay with his flames. But eventually his breath ran out. While the dragon recharged, the forest remained ablaze, with trees looking like candles. By this macabre light Truffle could see that the soldiers were now overtaking the dragons. The smaller dragon was defenseless, and the cascade of spears landed in its flesh, turning it into a pincushion. Eventually, the smaller dragon stopped moving altogether.

This only served to enrage the larger dragon. The next fireball was even larger than the first. Truffle could hear the sizzle as the flames shot across the ranks of the soldiers, boiling them in their suits of armour. Next, the dragon swung its tail side to side, plowing over any who had survived their burns.

As a few men fled, the dragon rushed forward with great speed. He clawed at the soldiers, puncturing their armour with ease. None could outrun the dragon, who spotted their movement with its enormous, golden eyes, and then pounced upon them with all the grace of a barn cat. Only, barn cats did not shake the entire earth when they landed upon their mouse.

The dragon made its way towards the camp, now turning its fury on the tents. It crushed the first few with its legs, knocked over banners and torches with its tail, and then when injured soldiers came streaming out of the collapsed structures, it let loose another tidal wave of fire.

Truffle was terrified, but neither he nor Talia moved. She was in shock. They could both feel the intense heat upon their faces, but they were just outside the camp’s boundary, and therefore outside the line of fire.

Soon the entire encampment was ablaze. The smell was foul, but mercifully the screams had died out. All sound disappeared. In the stillness that followed, the dragon at last spotted the girl standing just outside of the camp. It stomped over, each step filled with rage. The dragon didn’t stop until it was just a few feet from Talia, and it loomed over her, blotting out the light from the fire beyond.

Even with the battle scars and nasty snarl, this silver dragon was recongizeable as Lazyro. Lazyro paused, eying them up, his initial fit of violence subsided. He seemed to be considering something. Perhaps it was the stature of the girl, and her lack of threat.

Lazyro glanced back into the woods where the hulking shadow of his partner still lay motionless. Truffle tracked his gaze. When Lazyro looked back at them, his eyes were narrowed in anger. Truffle turned his head around to shield himself against Talia, and for the first time he saw it. Upon Talia’s chest was the same red owl insignia.

Truffle stared at the gleaming red owl, waiting for the firestorm to come and claim them. When none came, Truffle chanced a peek back at the dragon. He saw that the look in Lazyro’s eyes had softened.

Slowly, Lazyro reached out his front paw, opening his talons. There was no malice in his approach. By the time he scooped up Talia and Truffle, their images were already fading.

“I was… one of them? One of the dragon hunters?” Talia asked, stunned. The Mystic’s vision faded completely from view, and once again Truffle was no longer a piglet but a full-sized hog. He snorted and nuzzled against Talia to comfort her.

I didn’t want you to know, Lazyro admitted.

“So you were lying,” Talia realized. “But… I was wrong, too.”

“Sometimes we lie for the best reasons,” The Mystic said, and then abruptly stuck his hand out. It was time for payment.

Talia struggled to stand up, legs weak either from the time spent sitting or from the revelation. Her bones cracked as she staggered away, and she left the cave without blinking. Truffle scurried after her. Lazyro sighed as he turned his attention to the Mystic’s outreached palm.

How much do you want?

Once Lazyro had parted with his beloved trinkets (a pendant, a pair of gauntlets, and a crown all looted many years ago), Lazyro made his own way out of the cave. His legs creaked and cracked as well – only his sent shockwaves across the earth.

Lazyro caught up to Talia and Truffle at the steep embankment that led down towards the great plains. The sun was just beginning to set, and it would’ve been a beautiful sight, if Lazyro weren’t so overcome with feelings. Dragons did not like feelings.

As Lazyro peered over Talia’s shoulder, he was surprised to see she was painting something on her tunic. She had stains on her hands, probably from the autumnberries that Lazyro taught her could be used to make markings.

What is that? Lazyro asked, trying to get a good look. He noticed that she had made four distinct lines, arranging them into something like a dragon’s footprint.

“It’s a new crest,” Talia said with pride. She stood up fully, turning to Lazyro with a smile. Upon her tunic the new symbol glistened in the sunlight. The sigil of the dragon.

FableFantasyShort StoryAdventure
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  • Raymond G. Taylorabout a year ago

    Congratulations and well done for being a winner! Loved the ending which really sets out a new beginning for your next chapter ....

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