The Last Dragon

The knights, clad in polished armor blessed by their priests, climb the mountain path to the cave that overlooks the valley below. “For too long,” shouted their venerable Lord earlier that day, “That beast has devoured our livestock and threatened our kingdom. For too long! For too long, that beast has been a monster constantly watching. To whoever slays the beast, I offer rank, land, and fortune.” And, with his words echoing in their minds, these knights and their servants march onwards. Their swords clang against their armored legs with every step they make. The sun’s heat bears down on them, making every step more uncomfortable and more painful. The sweat stings their eyes and dries their mouths. But, they continue on, because in that cave is their glory.

Inside the cave, hidden in the darkness, the beast watches. Her large golden eyes are focused on the group, taking in their every move. She can sense their eagerness, their nervousness, their fear, and their pride. To her, it is all visible in their steps, in their stance. The beast does not blink. She refuses to, even though her eyes has begun to sting from dryness. This moment may be her last and she refuses to miss a single moment. She stays her breathing, just for a moment, to take in the sounds that surround her. She can hear the rhythm of her heart, nervous with the thought of death, and the song of the birds, ignorant or indifferent to the blood that is about to be spilled, and, of course, the cacophonous creaking and clashing of metal grinding and slamming against itself, a loud promise of violence. It is like music, disturbing and beautiful music.

A thought enters her head, a terrible thought. Perhaps she should let them kill her. Perhaps it is her time to go. She is old. She is the last of her kind, too. And, she has grown so tired of being alone in this life. The beast sighs. It isn’t like she is in a good state, anyways. Her silver scales, once so beautiful and polished, are dull with grime and stained blood. She hasn’t had a bath in ages. She has feared it. The last time she tried to dive into the nearby lake, she took two arrows in her underbelly. She was no threat. She wasn’t harming anyone. Yet, she can still feel the jagged metal heads inside of her, still tearing deeper into her every time she shifts wrong. She has never been so confused and so scared than that day. The scaleless beings are brutes. She sighs deeply, and then whimpers as she feels the arrowheads cut deeper. It hurts. It almost constantly hurts. It prevents her from sleeping. She is so tired. She is so lonely. The thought reenters her head. Perhaps, just perhaps, this should be her last day. This should be her end. Perhaps. Just perhaps.

She can hear their voices. They are harsh. They are crude. She does not understand the words. She never bothered to learn to their tongue. Perhaps that was a mistake on her part. She always found language beautiful. But they never bothered to learn hers, and these scaleless beings always seem to have a new language. They continue to speak. Their voices seem to be growing louder, almost as if they are chanting. She knows it is a warcry. They are preparing for war. Their chant is horrible. A horrible song. It makes her tense.

These are the ones who will claim her life. It is, in a way, sad. In another way, ironic. She is ancient; she has seen the world change countless times. She has fought their kind. She has destroyed their armies. She has also fought her kind in ancient wars long forgotten. And now, she stays in a cave. An ugly cave, smelling of soot and death. And, in this cave, this ugly cave that smells of soot and death, she is thinking about allowing these scaleless lowerborn beings to kill her. No. The word echoes in her mind, each one becoming louder than the last. No. No. No! She is the last of her kind. She fought in wars against beings they couldn’t even imagine. She has loved and loss in numbers that they couldn’t even count. And today, today is not the day she dies.

No. The word is repeated in her head. Over and over. Like a drumbeat. She stays her breathing once more, to listen to the world again. Her heart is thudding a rhythm like a drum, it seems to be eager for war now; no longer nervous, only excited. The birds and their song has vanished, most likely chased away by the loud chanting of the scaleless beings. She liked that song but it was replaced with the scream of the fire that is now running through her, filling her body with a store of dragonflame. This scream is an old scream, one she is used to, one that has been heard many times in her life. She is a warrior. Always was a warrior, and while she might be lonely, that won’t be her death sentence. As adrenaline rushes through her, her hearing enhances. The chanting of the enemy has grown louder, to an unbearable height. She roars, “Enough!” in a tongue that they can’t understand, but they are silenced. She rears back, as if she was a cat ready to pounce, and feels her wings naturally spread into their full, magnificent length. And, with another roar, she leaps into the air, flapping her wings in a powerful motion. The scaleless enemy screams as they see her fly from the cave’s mouth, but she doesn’t care. The time for thought has ended.