Periwinkle

There was a time, long before this age of machines, when dragons and trolls fought with mankind for dominance of the Earth. Many great kingdoms sprang up, only to be trampled under the boots of the troll horde or scorched by the dragon’s fiery breath. But that was before the rise of the kingdom of Izod and the Izodden knights.

         The Izodden knights were a score of the strongest and wisest of all men. Armed with magical swords and powerful spells they destroyed the dragons and drove the trolls deep underground. Within a decade the kingdom of Izod came to rule the entire known world, and dragons and trolls became creatures to haunt the dreams of children, not the lives of men.

         The dragons of old were horrid beast, hundreds of feet long, with breath that seemed to spring from the very depths of hell. They carried names such as Merirath, killer of five kings, and Drakemore, inferno of kingdom Asnid. However the last living member of this once fearsome species shared neither the destructive breath nor the graphic names with his ancestors. He was known simply as Periwinkle, or Wink to his few friends, or Periwinkle the runt to those of a more cruel nature. And that title was the most painfully accurate. As dragons went, Wink, only slightly larger than a draft horse, was sadly stunted. And while his father’s breath had been known to turn solid granite into rivers of liquid fire, Wink was barely able to roast meat with his flickering breath. Which was just as well, since red meat had a habit of upsetting his delicate stomach. He was perfectly content to live on a diet of fruits and nuts anyway and he had never been bitter about his size. What had seemed to be a handicap at an early age had allowed him to survive to a late age. And survived he had, for better than eight hundred years. It seemed that none of the Izodden knights wanted the title “Slayer of Periwinkle the Runt” added to his list of glories. And so, since he was basically harmless anyway, they decided to let Wink live, which suited him just fine.

         And there were certain perks to being the last living dragon in the world. From time to time groups of people, either a bit dim or maybe just bored, would decide to come and worship Wink as a god. They would bring sacrifices of food or an occasional gemstone, he would bless them, and in a few weeks they would wander off to their next god. Eight hundred years of this worship had made Wink into a mildly wealthy, if somewhat soft, fellow.

         Eight centuries had taken their toll on the Izodden knights as well. It seemed the knights were much more interested with courting adventure than they were with courting maidens. Only one descendant of the original twenty still lived, and it was a widely held belief that Sir Gary was nothing more than a lush with a sword. Nevertheless, Sir Gary was determined to have the glory of his forefathers. And since there were no trolls to be found, he knew of only one way to capture that former glory. So with his claymore over one shoulder and a wave over the other, Sir Gary set out to find the murderous beast known as Periwinkle the Runt. And so began the last, and most unusual dragon hunt of all time.

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         It only took Sir Gary a few hours to find Wink; the dragon didn’t exactly go to any great lengths to keep his location secret. So that very evening the very last of the Izodden knights viewed the very last of the ferocious dragons, and he was not impressed.

         Wink’s massive bulk rested motionless upon a great rock, surround on all sides by cakes brought by his current brethren. His red scales were rimmed with grey and a single yellow tooth jutted from his mouth. Hardly the trophy that Gary had hoped for but he supposed that one must take his glory where he found it. He strutted up to issue his challenge.

         A soft but urgent buzzing brought around Wink. His eyes opened to the sight of a rather largish sword pointed directly at his snout. His first thought was to incinerate this silly human and go back to his nap; a thousand years of instincts die hard. Fortunately reason overrode instinct and Wink took stock of his current predicament. Yes, the sword was most definitely a threat, but Wink found it hard to think of the man wielding it as one. The man was very tall, as men go, but in sore need of some nourishment. His armor was all but falling off of his gaunt frame and it was hard to tell how much of the sword’s trembling came from magic and how much came from the man’s inability to wield such a heavy blade. The knight’s brown hair stood out from his head at every possible angle. His eyes were blood shot and watery, which was a nice compliment to his ale-laden breath.

         “Know that you have been challenged, foul wurm.” Sir Gary began in a voice that was slightly nasally and heavily slurred. “How do you respond?”

         Wink slowly gained his feet, joints popping as if to break, “Surely you have the wrong man, or dragon if you will. I am not now, nor have I ever been ‘foul’. Now if you don’t mind, I have a very busy day planned. I’m sure you can show yourself out.” And with that crisis taken care of Wink settled back down to finish his nap.

         But Gary was not so easily thwarted. Having no title of any kind behind his name, he had no objection to the title “Slayer of Periwinkle the Runt”. “Come now, you have been properly challenged. You must accept so that we may agree upon the terms. I have vowed to rid this world of a great menace and I would like to finish up by lunch time tomorrow.”

         Wink was not moved. “May I suggest a quick bathing instead? Surely your breath is more of a menace than mine could ever be.” He quipped as he closed his eyes.

         “If that’s the way you want it, so be it. But frankly I expected more from the last of the dragons.” And with that Gary struck Wink sharply on the nose with the flat of the sword.

         Wink jumped up with a roar. His claws sprang from their sheaths. His lips drew back from long lost fangs. With anger he had never known he advanced upon the knight. “ You pompous little son of a…”

         “Now, now,” Gary interrupted, “let’s not bring this noble tradition down to the level of name calling. Show that honor your ancestors were known for.”

         “Hell of a lot you know!” replied Wink, “My ancestors were known for swooping down on unprotected villages, burning them to a crisp and devouring any man, woman or child still fit for consumption. Where’s the honor in that?” His rage, being tiresome to keep up, was spent.

         “That’s not the way the sages tell it!”

         “Well then they are either fools or liars.”

         Sir Gary was quite perplexed. This encounter was turning out to be nothing like he had envisioned. After several moments of deep thought he came to a rather disturbing conclusion. “You mean there is no code of honor which prevents you from sending me to a fiery death as I challenge you?”

         “Of course not!” laughed Wink. “What an utterly absurd idea.” He noticed, not without a bit of humor, that Sir Gary had gone a few shades paler.

         “Why haven’t you then?” Gary asked, not sure he really wanted to broach the subject.

         “Well I’ve already eaten three virgins and a monk today and honestly couldn’t eat another bite.” He didn’t think a little white lie between friends would hurt anything. “By the way, you seem to have trodden on one of my cakes.”

         Gary looked down in horror. Sure enough, in his confusion he had planted his foot right in the center of a large chocolate cake. To have come all this way, he thought, only to be slain for stepping in a dessert. “I’m terribly sorry about that. Please accept my most sincere apology. I’ll just run into town and get you another.” Gary was beginning to wish he had been able to find a troll.

         “Oh that’s quite alright. It’s not like it was a Boston crème. I’m sure someone will bring another tomorrow. But do watch where you are staggering.” Wink could be quite gracious, especially if he felt he had the upper hand.

         “You really must excuse me, but I’m finding all of this to be very confusing.”

         “I understand, maybe you should sit down until you get everything sorted out.” Wink offered. After all, other than the threatening of death and the destruction of a perfectly good cake, Gary had given him no reason to be uncivil.

         “Thank you, you’ve been very kind through all of this.” Gary sat down on a rock, taking special care not to disturb the muffins that sat on it. “I was led to believe that the battles between knights and dragons were spectacles of fair play.”

         “Hardly!” Wink corrected. “The knights would use spells from a safe distance to put the dragons to sleep, then they would sneak up and finish the job with those cursed blades. Strange definition of  ‘fair play’, wouldn’t you agree?”

         “Oh…you must hold quite a grudge against the knights for that one, not very sporting at all.”

         “Oh, not at all.” The dragon reassured, “We were at war with each other at the time. All’s fair in love and war and all that rot. But I was quite happy to see the whole messy business come to an end. Hardly the way two intelligent species should act with one another.”

         “I am so glad you agree.” Gary interjected.

         “Agree to what?” Wink asked, feeling that he had perhaps missed an important point somewhere in the conversation.

         “To a code of conduct, of course.” The knight stated. “If we are to meet on the field of battle it would seem that some ground rules would be in order. I do intend to slay you in an honorable fashion after all. Of course, you could simply extend your head and allow me to sever it cleanly, thereby saving yourself much pain and wasted effort. It would take much of the glory from my deed, but I am prepared to make that sacrifice for the sake of mercy.”

         Wink was completely dazed. Hadn’t he just put all thoughts of a duel out of this fool’s head? “You mean you still intend to do battle with me, even after all you have learned?”

         “Doubly so!” Gary answered with glee. “It is our foremost responsibility to right the wrongs of our forefathers.”

         Yes, thought Wink, I lost him somewhere. “Surely our forefathers would be satisfied if we just left each alone. Now you promise to leave and I promise not to snack on any more virgins. How would that suit you?”

         “No,” replied Gary, “that won’t do at all. I really must insist that I be allowed to slay you. It really is the only way.”

         “Why is it the only way?” asked Wink, now losing a bit of the color that Gary was gaining. “What tome of knowledge have you been studying that has put this foolishness into your head?”

         “It’s nothing personal, you understand, but you’re a dragon and I’m a knight. Knights slay dragons. It really the only job description for the knight I’m afraid.” Gary did seem to be just almost truly sorry, but his mind was made up.

         “Well couldn’t you just slay a rogue cow or something instead?” Wink was becoming frustrated. And to think that only moments ago he had thought himself to be on top of the situation.

         “Of course not,” answered Gary, becoming slightly annoyed at the stalling, “you wouldn’t ask a baker to shoe a horse would you? Then he wouldn’t be a baker, he’d be a horse shoe…puter oner.”

         “Okay, okay, I know what you’ve really come for.” Wink said as he pulled a small sack from under the rock and threw it at the knight. “Take it and we’ll call it even.”

         Gary opened the bag. Inside were all of the gems that Wink had collected over the years. “Oh, I really couldn’t…” he began.

         “Sure you could, I don’t mind.” Assured the dragon, “What use do I have for treasure anyway? Can you imagine me trying to get thru the door of the general store?”

         “No, I’m afraid you don’t understand.” Sir Gary explained. “Even if I wanted to take them, I couldn’t. It would be extortion, definitely forbidden in the knight handbook. And besides, they’re practically worthless anyway. Between today’s rising inflation and the fifty percent extortion tax, I wouldn’t have enough left to patch the hole in my codpiece.”

         The dragon was quite taken aback. “You must be kidding!”

         “No, really, see when I raise my leg like this…”

         “Yes,” interrupted the dragon, “how very uninteresting, you really mustn’t tell me about it sometime. But that most certainly is not the subject to which I referred, you dote! I know it’s very taxing for you, but do make an attempt to keep up.”

         “Well!” huffed the insulted knight. “There’s really no reason to get nasty over the whole thing.”

         “No reason to get nasty?” mocked Wink. “You come storming into my valley quite uninvited, awaken me from a nice snooze, calmly announce that you have come to slay me, step in my cake, inform me my retirement fund is worthless, and there’s no reason to get nasty! I assure you Sir Boozehound, that you have yet to see nasty!” Wink was not a violent dragon, but he was a dragon nonetheless and he could only take so much.

         Gary was impressed. “Now that’s the fighting spirit! This should go over quite nicely. The bards will sing of our battle for ages. Now we really should be getting down to laying out the ground rules.”

         “Ground rules?” This whole conversation was beginning to make Wink’s head hurt. Or maybe it was low blood sugar; he hadn’t eaten since this pest had shown up. “Are you totally insane? You’re talking about a fight to the death and you want to discuss rules?”

         “Of course.” It all made perfect sense to Gary, which was interesting since he was totally dumbfounded much of the time. “For instance, I think it would be most unfair for you to use your fiery breath. Wouldn’t you agree?”

         “Oh very unfair.” Wink agreed. “So to keep it fair you leave your sword at home and I won’t bring my breath.”

         “Now I can’t do that!”

         “And why not?” asked the dragon. “It seems only fair.”

         “I’m a knight, that’s why not.” replied Gary. “Everyone knows that a knight fights with an enchanted sword, forged for the purpose of slaying dragons and smiting trolls.”

         “Yes,” agreed Wink, “and everyone knows that dragons fight with great fountains of fire, burning entire forest, melting mountains of stone and, might I add, roasting pitiful little knights and their puny little swords.” Wink had always had quite a love for the dramatic.

         “Oh do be reasonable.” Pleaded the brave Sir Gary. “Without your breath you still have the arsenal of tooth and nail. In absence of my sword I am quite defenseless.”

         “Is that so? And what of the spells your ancestors used to do in my kin? Am I to believe they were simply figments of imagination?” This line of questioning was met by quiet mumbling from the knight. “What was that?” asked Wink, “I didn’t quite catch that.”

         “I said I don’t know any of the old spells. Are you happy now?” Gary had always feared his lack of wizardry would come back and bite him, or in this case get him bit, but learning sociology had seemed to be so much more useful at the time. Damned guidance councilors!

         “You don’t know any spells!” laughed Wink. “Oh this really is too much!” And with that he fell to his side in a fit of laughter.

         “Stop that!” Gary ordered. “It’s not the least bit humorous, and I’ll have you know that I have learned a spell or two! Alamar Kenzu Locor!” And the mighty spell was unleashed. The dale was suddenly filled with hordes of butterflies in all colors and the roar of Wink’s renewed laughter. “Maybe it was Kenzu Locor Alamar.” Gary’s hair turned a dark shade of purple.

         “I really must insist that you refrain from any more wizardry, sir knight. One more assault like that and I shall giggle myself to death before you can kill me proper.” Sarcasm had always been one of Wink’s strong points. “But perhaps you were aiming for something a bit more like this, Kamar Alocor Lenzu!” Suddenly a twelve-foot demon with two heads and four arms, each holding a sword of fire appeared between them. Over eight hundred years, even a sloth like Wink was bound to pick up a trick or two.

         Sir Gary was the last Izodden knight, and he had trained long and hard for just such an encounter. And so, with a mighty cry to his god, he did the only thing he could do in the situation. He fell to his knees and promptly wet himself.

         It was at that point that Gary was fully prepared to run away, hang up his sword and perhaps join the circus and become a geek. However, to run away he would have to push himself thru the throng of people who had shown up bringing pies and cakes, even a quiche or two. So instead he just stood there and looked at the people, and looked at the food and then back at the people. He was confused, something was happening that had never happened before, he was getting a good idea. He turned back on the dragon.

         “So Wink,” he began, trying to get the thought to line up in his own head. “You say these folks show up everyday and bring food?”

         “I’m afraid so.” droned the dragon. He had lost interest in the whole situation again and was settling down for a nap. “Not to sound ungrateful, but the stuff starts to pile up rather quickly and draw flies. I can’t come close to consuming it all.”

         “Ah, I have a proposition for you my cold blooded foe.” Gary had the whole thing lined up and it seemed to him to be a good plan. “What if I were to take whatever you couldn’t eat down into the town, start a bakery of sorts and sell the goods to the town folk?”

         “First off, dragons are hot blooded. If a drop of my blood was to touch your arm it would sear right thru to the other side.” Wink’s eyelids were starting to droop.

         “Really?” asked Gary. There was so much to these dragons that he didn’t know.

         “I don’t know, probably not. I make a lot of this stuff up. After I repeat it for a couple of centuries I have trouble remembering what’s true and what’s not. But about this plan of your’s, I wouldn’t have to do anything?”

         “Absolutely not.”

         “You’d cart the goods yourself? No dragon hitched to the wagon?”

         “I promise.”

         “And you’ll drop this whole slaying idea, no more swatting at my nose with that over-grown cheese knife?”

         “You have my word.” Gary was starting to get excited about this.

         “In that case, why should I care.” Not quite as excited as Gary, but if it kept him out of Wink’s hair, or scales, it was worth it.

         “Great, I’ll get started setting up shop right away. But perhaps you could get a few of your followers to bring something other than sweets?” Gary asked hopefully.

         “Such as?” this was already starting to look like Wink was going to have to do something. Perhaps it would be better if one of them was to slay the other. At this point Wink wasn’t sure he cared which end he was on.

         “Well, a bit of ale would be nice, a keg or three should get us through the weekend.”

         “Sure.” agreed Wink, “Why not? And perhaps a pair of dry pants as well.”

         And so ended the final battle between the fearsome dragons and the honorable Izodden knights.