The Scoundrel and The Dragon

The Scoundrel and The Dragon



By Mordecai J Banda



“You really going ahead and accepting ma offer?”



“You offered it yourself.” The dragon growled, “I have no intention of being lenient to people in such times.”



The man was under the massive gleaming talon of the dragon. It was just a few inches above his spine. As the man had offered, the dragon had bowled him over and poised a claw over his back, in case he had come for dishonest reasons.



In that case, he should run me through now.



“What do you want!” It hissed, but its hiss came with a pungent, burnt smell, and the sound rattled the miserable man’s ears.



“Hey, hey hey, I could just leave, ya know.”



The dragon chuckled softly. Naap. No way. He was dead if he didn’t tell. Probably still dead after. But he needed privacy and freedom dammit!

“Okay, okay. You know of tha war, huh?”



“Are you insulting me?” The dragon’s talon went down just a few more inches. Its muscle control was suberb, otherwise the slightest shake would puncture the man. He swallowed,



“Sorry, but ma sense is muddled with drink.”



“You have approached a dragon whilst drunk?” It growled. The noise and smell battered the man, such that he almost vomited with nervousness and disorientation.



“Anyway. Those guys. They’ve been fighting for like ages, you know? And so, in the nasty business of fighting, adventures and knights pass by a lot, you know? Important people, do-gooders and such. They even bring some good spirits and such, someone such as yourself gets in trouble more than often, I giss?”



The dragon looked into a corner of its comparatively small cave. Piles of skeletons wearing various royal emblems lay there. It looked down at the man with its slit pupil,



“Continue.”



The man tried looking up, but found the talon too intimidating, so he just lay there, staring at the massive tail ahead.



“Well, ya see, I hate this too. I can’t steal no more without some prince Caveluvian or some’at coming after me. Ma fellow boozers are havin thoughts of grandeur all of tha sudden, and gitting themselves kilt in tha battle, ya see?”



The dragon simply breathed.



“Well, the men on my side of tha war are thinkin of stopping the war with a secret weapon of their’s. Some diety of some sort. Problem is, it takes men of virtue and a heck of a long travel, by the time of which some hero has run me through, and probably finally taken all your pitiful remaining amount of gold. I do believe some have half-suceeded?”



The dragon bowed its head slightly in shame, and brought the talon away. It flapped its massive webbed wings once, and dust flew, choking the man momentarily. When it settled, there was a single gold statue of a monkey, but nothing more.



“This is the only piece left.” The dragon moaned mournfully. He glared down at the man,



“What do you want, scoundrel?”



The man rose to his feet unsteadily, “Well, I guess you might have a few friends, ya know? Maybe some monsters or fellow dragons who share ya strife, ya see? So I was hopin you guys give the warring armies something to write home about.”



There was an evil twinkle in his eye, “If they survive.”



The dragon looked at him, then laughed.



The man came to an hour later, half-deaf. The dragon smiled a half smile of razor sharp teeth, “Sorry about that, scoundrel. But I’m surprised, why not wait for the deities? Don’t you love you country?”



The man yawned, “I love beer, that’s all. If ya can don’t kill too many, just the kings. That’ll be sure ta end tha war. Trust me, they won’t be able to land a shot on ya, they’re too busy provin their worth to eachother and frolicking.”



The dragon smiled and flapped it wings. The man was buffeted by the wind, and tumbled over as it rushed out of the cavern to the sky.

The war of the Ancients against the Aliens from the sky was in full boil at The Valley of Murk. The two kingdoms were located across the massive, fertile valley that had minerals so precious families slaughtered each other over them. In the fighting the kingdom’s communities had inched ever closer to the valley, simply to be close to the wealth when the fighting was over. But it was a stale mate, and the blood kept draining into the valley, and peoples from across the globe kept flowing in to die pitiful deaths.



The kings were residing in their separate towers, whilst the outsiders who were interfering had their own chiefs and leaders in special tents or on conspicuous mounts. When the squadron of fifteen dragons arrived at the valley, they had no trouble picking out all the main leaders. Soon the only surviving chief was one with charred legs and arms, and no army was spared at least a thousand casualties. The war was over.

A year later, the scoundrel was lounging in his chair, drinking with some of his remaining friends. They all had one major injury of some sort from the war, and were now talking about the days,



“Man, you’d think they’d never been a bloody war. I swear that Tashaka was the one who sliced my leg off.” Ped was pointing at one of the Aliens, a red spindly being with keen eye sight and a long curled razor-sharp tail. This one was drinking beer and chatting with beings from other races, all who had been scrambling for The Valley’s riches a year ago.



Aev smiled, “You know, Jer, I don’t like the way it ended, but it sure beat one side winning. Imagine the future rebellions and such. Hurrah to those crazy dragons, and whatever pissed them off. Maybe it was even a noble knight or some smart wizard. Like from the legends, ya know?”



Jer the scoundrel smiled and raised his foamy flagon of beer, “Hurrah to them.”



WORD COUNT: 1000