Endangered Species

My first short story about dragons--it may be my last!

Endangered Species

 

Still the dragons reign supreme

Breathing fire till we scream

They leave us nothing but our dreams

No shield can save us…   “A Miracle” by Emerson, Lake and Powell

 

            Whilont, or for you non-dragon readers, once upon a dreadful time of yore in a far-flung land where mighty dragons ruled above, and man feared to tread below. Wherever craggy mountains ascended high and sharp into the clouds, dragons lived and thrived as man hid away within stone-walled villages. Both species proved intelligent, though dragons relied on their brawn and fire while man, lacking any comparable brawn to speak of, relied on his wit and insight.

            Over the centuries, dragons gained the upper hand, or claw if you like, to utterly dominate humankind driving them into retreat while culling their numbers. Many varieties of dragon existed: From Firedrakes to Gilded Bloodscales from Howlers to Brimstones, they settled in their preferred environments. Ruling this land, a dragon’s shadow ensured an unprotected man would become a dragon’s meal; then, it all changed. This is that story.

            At sunset on an alpine mountaintop, in the Nhiostrife Wyvern kin-knot of Aeris Dragonloft, a mismatched pair of dragons stirred.  At over forty feet tall and displaying tons of rippling muscle with blade impervious and fireproof green scales, the mighty Daunger Mortch lumbered across the open area of the dragonloft to a pile of logs with his half-sized offspring Krasl keeping pace. 

            “Easy Krasl kindle Dragonbreath, Fre Daunger Syre,” said Krasl conceitedly in dragon speak. “Kindle big Dragonbreath with maistry, desireth witness?” The youthful dragon pointed at the log pile with a sharp claw. 

            “Siker Krasl hende. Krasl firstly laern ordered and disciplined Wyvern dragon gyse,” Mortch said with a firm expression of his fierce countenance. “Krasl most control Dragonbreath, most laern dragoncraft, most acquireth discipline. Krasl namely hente discipline.”

            Mortch lowered his mighty gentilesse head, put his toothy snout close to the pile of logs and exhaled an easy fiery breath. Orange and red flames shot out of his throat that instantly ignited the logs. The flames glinted off his gleaming green scales as Krasl, now the headstrong fifteen-year-old wyrmling, watched his father with interest.

            “Unverray my Daunger Syre.  Krasl konne micel. Control dragonbreath and laern dragoncraft well as Daunger Syre and Dragon Elders of Degree. Afar ahead everich wyrmlings in Dragoncraft. Krasl quick pupil, hente much. Recall thy Daungner Syre lyke Krasl hatchling flaming.”

            Mortch laughed with a deep rumbling grumble but quickly sobered. “Daunger Syre lest proud witness in Krasl flaming cone. Verily Krasl incinerate abode nest and scorcheth sister wyrmling. Not acceptable outcome afore nor present time.” 

            “Krasl laern sithen, Daunger Syre. Krasl soar welkin about dragonloft sithen year twelve hence. Krasl goon farther, fleeter, loftier,” Krasl said eagerly. “Mastersyre, Krasl keen for hunt man�"Krasl lust manhunt”

            “It is no drede Krasl trowen thee astute,” his father said as he blew on the bonfire with a blast of flames using such force a couple logs rolled out of place. “Bar no. Thy too inexpert at present time. Duanger Syre deme,” Mortch said with a stern claw point. “Let be, Krasl fare other Dragon approach.” 

            The ground rumbled with the approach of the other male dragons. Full-grown dragons, coming of age offspring, and retired elder dragons gathered around the blazing hot bonfire, the very most comforting thing dragons can do. Putting human puffs on sticks, they held them close to the bonfire to sizzle and cook. The elder dragons related old over-told stories of heroic attacks on human villages and narrow escapes from legions of armed and armored knights as the young dragons listened in rapt attention. 

            “Those humen cannot be so big and brave wight, sen. Y have never seen a single one,” Krasl said sourly. “Humen never cometh to die by our tooth, nail, or flame. Humen most be weak and afraid�"ywis hideth in dark caves with bats. Krasl deem Wyvern Dragon need yep humen meat instead of this old goat or man flesh.  Krasl no taste difference between most foul meat.” Krasl said, eying his snack with detest. “Krasl ready to goon manhunt!”

            “Thine wyrmling certes grow rapid. Krasl exhibiteth yearn and corage fit for mighty warrior dragon,” the elder dragon named Zexiel told Mortch. “Krasl mature sufficient for manhunt, ywis not?”

            “No, Krasl not manhunt. Hunt no longer same as whilont. Dragon most be war�"selective present time for unalike aims,” Mortch said casting a blood- red eye to Krasl. “Eke, Krasl only fifteen annulis.”

            “Dragon war? Pshaw! ” Zexiel scoffed. “Krasl fifteen annulis? Plenty mature for manhunt,” the elder answered. “Wyvern most early hunters of Dragonkind.”

            “Bear witness, Syre?” Krasl inserted excitedly between the two grown dragons’ dispute. “The Elders of Degree consent. Krasl ready aventure to goon, anon.”

            “Y am Daunger Syre!” Mortch roared. “Not nyse ancient elder Zexiel. Y gave thou ultimate command ere, Krasl, mind self,” Mortch said sternly. Turning to the elder, he said, “Thy Zexiel stint, let be. Thy sentence and rede no estaat, thine hunting time past gone. Dragon others en ere times caused quandary en now. Ere days of scorched earth and destroyeth humen for sheer solas gone past. Dragon liveth by different canon now.

            “Canon! Dragon no need canons; dragon kinde to rule sky and reign over the earth dwellers below,” Zekiel exclaimed with clenched claws.

            Mortch glared at him whilst Krasl glared at his father as he moved closer to Zexiel. As the evening and the bonfire waned, Mortch saw that his son had taken up a quiet extended conversation with Zexiel, the young dragon asking pointed questions about manhunts in the olden days. Mortch considered interfering but thought their conversation was only harmless intercourse.

***

            The next day, Mortch found his headstrong wyrmling gone. At first, he thought nothing of it because the fast-growing dragon often went out for flights with other wyrmling dragons to ride the updrafts created by the sun heating the mountainsides. As the day approached peak sun, Mortch began to worry recalling the night before. By mid after peak sun, when the other wyrmlings revealed Krasl had gone out early and alone, Mortch began assembling his fellow dragons to begin a search.

            As they assembled and discussed their plan, they saw a dragon break through the clouds on approach to the dragonloft. Soon, they identified it as Krasl. As Mortch fumed and planned a thorough scolding, Krasl approached slowly and sluggishly, setting down clumsily and hard on the landing zone. The other dragons rushed in close to Krasl to admire the kill that he held as a mangled form in his maw. With a haughty expression, Krasl lifted his head high and dropped the carcass to the ground in a sickening bloody heap.

            He stepped back away and said, “Krasl fresh kill!”

            The young dragons rushed in and between at least three of them tore the limps from the carcass causing blood to fly and bones to crack and crunch.

            “Yep, fresh and warm!” One wymling exclaimed as the proud Krasl looked on the feeding frenzy.

            “Daunger Syre, aren’t thy proud?” Krasl said beaming with smugness. “Wyse Zexiel quod soothe. Many ripe for taking and delicious!”

            Mortch approached Krasl who appeared oddly bloated and sluggish, but thought it only due to his feasting earlier.

            “Krasl what gan?” Mortch roared, letting out a fiery blast. “Thee feed on mountain sheep without an elder escort?”

            Krasl moved aside to show his father the kill he had brought. “No, better than sheep but ilke. Humen nearly as easy to kill!”

            Mortch only then saw that the others were feeding on the mangled remains of a blond human female. He shook his mighty head and squeezed his eyes to slits.

            “Syre! Proud of Krasl! Y hap on humen. Krasl took two females and flamed all male escorts! Solo! Humen give no fight till very end and Krasl only receive facile scratches!” Krasl said proudly. “Easy pickings and females do taste luscious as Zexiel quod!”

            Mortch stood before his bloody-jawed progeny shaking his head sadly. “Krasl no understand thou have done with thine impetuous action. Krasl disobeyed Daunger Syre. Broke canon between Dragon and humen.”

            “Wyse Zexiel conseil sooth. Dragon no follow canon�"Dragon kinde take what desireth.”

            Mortch shook his head sadly. “Zexiel soar and hunt in another time. Not woot now. Krasl, before thy attack, did thee perceive Dragon totem on humen wheeled carriage?”

            “Ywis, so? Poor totem of firedrake,” Krasl said, digging long strands of blond hair from his teeth. “Krasl dislike hair in food.” He said smugly, but then coughed. “Y only�"only thought humen decorated with Dragon likeness because humen dread of Dragon.”

            Krasl coughed hard with a bellowing of foul smoke spewing from his mouth. He suddenly appeared weary and wan.

            “Krasl, Daunger Syre should explain canon Dragon live by present time, verily Y never thought Krasl goon off on own down below,” Mortch said low with concern. He shook his huge and mighty head sadly. “Dragon outliveth means�"outnumber humen. Dragon taketh, destroyeth too many humen. Verily humen become desperate. Humen promise no attack Dragon if Dragon no attack humen. Present time�"” He shrugged his huge winged shoulders and let out a cool vaporous breath as he studied the suddenly silent Krasl. “The humen present livestock and old humen members. Verily difficult to predict Krasl manhunt mean for Dragon and humen species.” Mortch shook his mighty head. “Due to Krasl reckless attack, thy eliminate two last few humen breeding females.  Krasl�"”

            Wisps of smoky anger wafted from Mortch’s nostrils as he considered his son, but noticed that Krasl’s normally fierce, belligerent eyes appeared leaden and lethargic. As he studied the languid wyrmling, the Daunger Mortch saw that Krasl’s scales appeared dark and dull, and his head swayed back and forth uncontrollably. The others didn’t seem to notice the Daunger’s scrutiny and concern for Krasl as they cleaned up the remaining scraps of flesh and bone. When Mortch noticed Krasl’s head drop to the ground with foam bubbling from his bloody jaws, he knew what troubled his offspring.

            “Other Dragon away!” Mortch roared, but he knew it was too late with only a bloodstain, strands of hair, and torn rags remaining of the human female. Mortch shook his mighty head in despair as the other dragons turned to him quizzical.

            “Humen whilont proclaimed Dragon regret yif broke solempne promise.”