Cover of Terra

Mr. Endrikson is a photographer for the all-photo magazine, Terra. As he returns from his recent trip, he must explain his travels to airport security.

Elven airports have the worst security. Before I could explain myself, I found handcuffs on my wrists and hands on my shoulders. Security pushed me into a hallway I never knew existed. I tried talking to the two guards manhandling me, but they never glanced in my direction. They found the room they were looking for and carried me inside. The chain of my cuffs was in turn chained to a table and I was forced into a metal chair. The pair left and I had to wait for an interrogator. I took it he or she would use the only other furniture in the room: a chair opposite the table but carved from oak.

 

I sat quietly in the chair, letting my eyes adjust to the bright light overhead. It was in such contrast to the warm lights in the rest of the airport. The only positive thing about the light was that it kept me from dozing off. I didn’t get much sleep on the flight. I had the middle seat, and the man in front of me was reclined the whole trip. I was also one row away from the emergency exit row, which only added salt to the wound.

 

Finally the interrogator entered. He was tall and lanky. His long blonde hair was kept in a professional braid running down his back, exposing his spiked ears. “Good morning, Mr. Hendrixson,” he greeted flatly.

 

“It’s Endrikson,” I corrected. “And is it only morning?”

 

“In Gladencove it is, yes. Not in Zurbenlog, though.” The elf had taken a seat in the oak chair and scowled at me from across the table. The white light shined on his inhuman forehead and cast his eyes into shadow. “That’s a watched country. Care to explain what you were doing in goblin territory?”

 

Finally, I thought I had a chance to explain myself. “I was working. Only there on business. I work for-”

 

“Krukentaug is an odd place for a human to work,” he interjected. He had a folder open in his hands and was rummaging through the papers as we talked. “Zurbentaug, sure. It’s a major metropolitan area. Lots of businesses there. I never heard of Krukentaug until today.”

 

“Yes, well I’m photographer,” I tried to explain. “Krukentaug was the closest city to-”

 

“Oh, you charted a private plane,” he interrupted again, reading from the folder. I got the sense that he enjoyed interrupting.

 

“Can I finish?” I almost shouted. It was difficult to see his eyes, but I felt them leave the papers and stare at me.

 

“Sorry,” he said. His tone had become more serious and menacing. “I did not realize I was interrupting you.” He closed the folder and tossed it on the table. He silently moved the chair closer to the table, lowering his head so even more of his face was darkened by his brow. “Please, continue,” he threatened politely.

 

“I am a photographer and photojournalist for Terra. They sell Terra here, right? It’s an all photograph, general-interest magazine focused on- Yeah, you know. Anyway, I was in Zurbenlog trying to get a photograph of a rare montane feathered wyvern.”

 

I paused expecting either his usual interruption or a gasp of disbelief. I myself could not stop beaming despite my situation. Wild dragons had become extremely rare. Feathered wyverns were hunted to near extinction by the goblins. A snapshot of one would be an amazing find, and it would be a high mark of my career. I expected some sort of recognition from the elf. Instead, he just sat there as silent and immobile as a statue.

 

“Oh, well, my adventure began with getting into Zurbenlog. I had to fly into Molenheim. You would think airfare would be cheaper since it is not a busy airport, but the dwarves would rather you use their subways. And of course then they tack on fees like there is no tomorrow. Pay for the shuttle from the runway. Pay for the tram to the town proper. Don’t even get me started on the restaurants. Measly portions for the price of banquets.

 

“The surface border between Molenheim and Zurbenlog is less guarded. I hired twins to escort me across the valley. Beautiful country, by the way. From there I entered a little village called Qez. I stayed at the tavern, which acts an inn for the few visitors. The owners were nice though. The husband spoke Human better than his wife. Unfortunately my Goblin is not very good, so I had to speak with the husband most of the time. Anyway, he was extremely helpful. He found me an aprehs to lead me up the mountain trails. Before we left, his wife baked us this incredible desert. I forgot what she called it, but it had juices from three different berries in the mountain and this rich, homemade cream from their cows.

 

“According to Zist, my aprehs, we had to speak with the elder shaman before climbing Mount Kruken. It had become a sacred place, and if you dared to cross it without appropriate blessings from the gods, then your expedition would be doomed. Now, I doubt you have ever seen a sacred bivouac, but it is much better than any bivy I’ve made. They had moved this large stone so that-”

 

And that’s when I was cut off. To be fair, the elf had been extremely patient with me as I essentially recounted my vacation story. He simply raised his hand. I stopped, he leaned back, and I could see his face better. “You sound convincing. It is clear either your story is real or you have rehearsed this monologue before. Let me ask you something: do you have the pictures?”

 

“Of course!” I tried not to shout. “Well, not on me, but they are in my luggage. You confiscated that when I got off the plane. And you didn’t find any weapons in it, I bet.” At this point, I was still tired but I was glad to finally be getting someplace. Elves jump to conclusions so quickly, and I was afraid I would have to recount the entire trip before they trusted me.

 

The interrogator briefly left to talk with someone in the hall. He came back and told me that he was having someone fetch my camera.

 

“I don’t have them developed yet, obviously, but they are all on the card,” I reassured him. He shot me a look before burying his eyes in shadow again.

 

It took only a few more minutes before one of the original security guys brought my suitcase into the room. He slammed it on the table a little bit too rough for opinion. They opened it so I could see the contents as well. I keep my camera bag buried beneath my underwear. It is a little extra padding and surprisingly effective as a deterrent for thieves. When I told them where the camera bag was, the security guy paused but the interrogator immediately started digging. They ruined my organization and unfolded some of my clothes, but it meant they would let me go that much quicker.

 

“Can I-” I started to ask but the interrogator shot me another look. I didn’t like him handling my camera. He was holding it as if it was ancient artifact capable of mass destruction. As he fumbled to find the power button, I prayed he wouldn’t drop it. If I wasn’t handcuffed I would have been gripping the arms of the seat. Actually, if I wasn’t handcuffed I would have been taking it back.

 

Finally, he turned it on and began handling it more professionally. I told him what to press and soon he was looking at my pictures. Thankfully he kept the whole camera angled so I could see the screen too.

 

Sure enough, I had pictures of Orin and Orod. They were the twins that led me into Zurbenlog. There were a few shots of the valley. I was constantly surprised by the amount of flowers there. Several pictures were of blooms as foreground elements in front of these massive mountains. Then there was my first view of Mount Kruken, Qez, and those lovely tavern keepers. The elf actually flinched when he saw them. He was taking his time looking through these shots. I assume he was verifying my story. I do catalog as much as I can from my trips just in case Terra wants more of a narrative for one issue. As soon as the interrogator found the bivouac, recognizable by its ornately painted rock and tattered, ancient cloth, he started scanning through the pictures faster.

 

Of course, I wanted to tell him a little bit about the expedition itself but he did not seem to have the time. He passed my pictures of the climb up and down Mount Kruken, the family of bears we found hibernating, the 14 shrines to the Fifteen High Ones, and even my incredible panorama from the summit.

 

The elf stopped at one picture that consisted of nothing but a bloody, skinned carcass. Again, I saw him flinch and almost gag. “What is this?” he asked sharply.

 

“That was a four-horned cow. They are a rare mutation of montane cows. According to legend, they were deemed gods in physical forms until Groberkk the Revealer proved they could be killed like any other animal.”

 

“I thought he was Groberkk the Cleaver.”

 

“He was a goblin war hero too, yes. But once the myth of the four-horned cow was debunked, they served mainly as off-”

 

“I really don’t care,” he cut me off again. “Why did you take a picture of it?”

 

I had to take a deep breath before continuing. “As I was about to say, that was our offering or bait. Towns all around Mount Kruken believe four-horned calves are signs of favor from the gods. If there are any sightings of dragons, they leave the four-horned cow out as a peace offering. It’s far away from the rest of their herd, of course. It’s like feeding a stray cat, but not near your house.”

 

As I was talking, the elf stopped listening. I let him continue through my pictures in silence. The next several were of the frozen lakes near our camp on the far side of the mountain. Beautiful ice had been shaped into waterfalls. Coniferous trees and hardened bushes framed the scene. There was a surreal beauty in the shots.

 

Of course, the elf didn’t care.

 

He scanned through the shots at a faster speed. We had to spend nearly a month in the wilderness waiting for a sign of the dragon. We tended to the bait so it would continue to be appealing to the wyvern. Thankfully the cold was actually helpful, and Zist knew what he was doing. Naturally, I couldn’t help but take a few pictures every few days to pass the time. There were a lot of shots or panoramas for the interrogator to scan through. He was moving so fast I could barely tell what the pictures were.

 

Suddenly, he stopped. The little screen showed a shot looking up at a frozen waterfall. On the other side of the ice was a rocky precipice, and on the precipice was a serpentine head. At the base of its jaw and at the crown of its head were a series of small feathers glinting in the sun. The head was angled upward, its mouth open just a sliver to reveal a series of teeth.

 

“That was only the first shot,” I tell him.

 

The next picture had the wyvern closer to the edge. In that shot, its folded wings could be seen rising above the body. Its talons were gripping the edge of the cliff. By sheer luck, I was able to get a picture of its tongue out in the air. Zist said it was sniffing the food. The next picture was of the dragon on the ground. It had flown from the cliff and landed in a clearing near one of the frozen lakes. I had placed the bait there so I could get a shot of the dragon, the waterfall, and the dark green pines all in one. And I did. In that picture you could see the feathers on the tail. While it was eating, it kept its tail wrapped around closer to its body. I planned for the picture of him eating to be my favorite, but it paled in comparison to my next shot.

 

“Go to the one after this.”

 

The elf clicked to the next picture. The dragon was in the middle of taking flight. He was already in motion, so its serpentine head and neck extended past its body, and it feet were tucked close to its stretched tail. Its wings were unfurled and about at their peak. The leather looked almost translucent in the morning sun. Behind the powerful body was the lake and waterfall from the previous shots. Because I was getting ready to catch him in flight, I had my camera angled slightly upwards. More of the mountain and the icy waterfall could be seen behind the dragon. A rugged and isolated habitat for a rugged and isolated creature. I had one more picture where I tried to get the dragon in flight, but it wasn’t very good. After that, I decided not to fool with the camera. Only a few people in the modern age have seen a dragon so close. I didn’t want the camera ruining the moment.

 

“You may go,” the elf said, placing the camera on the table. He swiftly left the room and let the guards take care of me. Despite his usual sharpness, I noticed he carefully put the camera down. I could have sworn I also saw a tear glint in the harsh light.

 

That’s when I knew my picture was cover material.

Author's Note

This was rather quickly written as the first part in a writing series. The topic for this piece was "dragon", so I am most interested in how it used the topic. I welcome critiques of all kind as the series is meant to push my writing and allow me to experiment.