Dragon's Bridge

The Soldier comes down the dirt path through the lush forest, a contented smile upon his face. The Second Gulf War for him is over; he has played his part. Now, on his return to England, his friends have organized this meeting for him on the old bridge. It is a one-on-one meeting with a girl, a kind of thank-you blind date.

He rides to the bridge on his new motor-bike. The Soldier is in an elated mood; he is probably going to retire in a few days from the army.

A strange feeling comes over him as the woodland through which he has been traveling gives way to the clearing and he sets eyes upon the bridge. A feeling of déjà vu… nostalgia, perhaps comes over him. He has a sudden feeling that he has been across it long ago. The girl is on the bridge, waiting, her long blonde hair flowing down the back of her shoulders, glistening gold, with the sun a ball of fire behind her.

He guns the motorbike towards her as….

…the knight’s shining metal footwear clinked against his horses’ flank. The plume in his helmet plopped from side-to-side. The surrounding forest did not harm him, for he had been a knight in shining armour, recently returned from the Second Crusade. He had been away for two years, returning in 1148. On his return, his Lord Farrago had sent him, Sir Baradeer, on the quest to slay the fabled dragon of Halide. It was a task that had already claimed the lives of many good and valiant knights.

The bridge where the dragon lurked was near; the knight could feel it. Through the visor slits, he scanned the forest, looking. He had not seen the bridge as of yet, but his lord Farrago had assured him the dragon had been terrorising the village on the other side of the forest.

Suddenly, in the middle slit of his visor, the bridge appeared upon his path, a new bridge he could tell, for the scaffolds had still been tied to its sides. He had spurred his horse onwards, pressing his legs to its flank.

But there was no dragon to be seen; in its place a damsel appeared on the bridge as he approached, seductively emerging out of the undergrowth, a ghost in her white garments. His steed’s trotting sounds made the distinct change from the rustle through dead leaves of autumn to a loud Clack! Clack! as he traversed the bridge, stopping in the middle of its slightly rounded surface. She stared at him, and he could tell by her look of admiration that she knew he was a Knight, perhaps just returned from the Second Crusade.

He looked the damsel over, an elegant prize for any man. He lifted his visor momentarily. In this moment he felt a wave of unease and vulnerability.

The knight realised his instinct and sight were not failing him. The beautiful damsel transformed into a mighty dragon, the light had not obscured his vision as previously.
Now he knew how the dragon had slain so many knights. In its guise as a damsel it had lured them unsuspectingly to their deaths: a femme fatale from long ago.

He galloped toward the waiting dragon. Its long golden mane flowed down its long neck to its shoulders. A ball of fire erupted from its flared nostrils.

He spurred his horse to a gallop, drew his sword, and lunged towards the beast as…

…the girl takes one step closer, a strange smile she has, for it never leaves her lips. The light that illuminates the girl’s hair is instantly banished from the soldier’s view, and to be replaced by a sudden towering red monster.

He turns to run, and, unknowingly, his foot dislodges a rock that ricochets off the old plaque set into the crumbling stone of the bridge’s face that reads in fading bronze letters: 1148 AD, PRAISE TO THE KING OF THESE LANDS: BARADEER, DEFEATER OF THE DRAGON OF HALIDE!

The high-pitched agonizing screams and crashes echo all through the silent forest.

In every age, fear and desire must be sought and slain anew, ere any Soldier-Knight cross Dragon’s Bridge.