The Pet Dragon

The Pet Dragon

Published by Brett Fitzpatrick

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Brett Fitzpatrick

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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Dedication

For Babsi

A Pet Dragon

by Brett Fitzpatrick

Chapter 1

They were high in the troll infested areas of the mountain range, a dangerous place for a group of elves to be. Three archers and their leader. It was midday in high summer, but that only cut down on troll numbers, it didn't guarantee them safety by any means.

The leader of the band, a male elf with jet black hair and a lip curled into the snarl of someone used to barking commands and having them obeyed, was crouching at the base of a giant tree. He had dug a small hole and was looking at the roots within.

It'll be today, he said, staring at the root fibers. There was something strange about them. Though they were underground, they were writhing like branches in the wind. The forces are building, he continued.

The archers accompanying him were two female elves and one male. The closer of the two females edged up to his shoulder to look in the hole, I've never seen the like, she said.

You haven't seen anything yet, her leader whispered to himself, so softly she only just heard him. Over the next couple of hours the ground beneath their feet began to move, at first gently, then more and more forcefully.

The heaving of the ground became so bad that frightened woodland creatures were startled out of hiding and could be seen running hither and thither. It wasn't like an earthquake though, more like undulations, like thousands of snakes of various sizes were slithering beneath the moss and leaves of the forest floor. Then the mighty trees themselves began to sway backward and forward like old men building up momentum to heave themselves up from easy chairs.

The archers were petrified with fear. Their arms were shaking so badly that had they been called on at that moment to do their duty and protect their leader by shooting down his enemies, they wouldn't have been able to hit their target. Their leader himself on the other hand was exultant. And then the first tree ripped part of its trunk free of the earth, writhing roots trailing behind it, like a giant's leg. It took a hesitant step forward before ripping the trailing leg free. It began to march uphill as hundreds of other trees started to tear their way free of the ground and follow.

Soon an army of living trees was on the march, heading up the mountain and being replaced by an inexhaustible number coming up to replenish them from behind. The group stayed where they were hour after hour, as the forest moved around them, the archers gradually relaxing as the trees made no move to harm them. Darkness began to fall, and the trees kept moving.

For centuries we have been confined to the forests, the leader spoke again at last, but if the borders of the forest start to expand, and keep on expanding, that might not be the disadvantage it once was. The elves could once again steer the fate of the entire known world.

The trees holding up the elven city creaked gently in the wind. Rope bridges with wooden slats to walk on were swaying between the buildings, and the first lanterns had already been lit against the gathering dusk. All the lanterns had different colored glass and they danced like fairy lights in the wind. It was late summer and the air around sunset was chill, though it would warm again later no doubt.

Willowtide was standing on one of the city's longer bridges. It crossed the great divide between the northern canopy and the southern, dangling low over a chasm with a roaring river at the bottom. Willowtide loved to hear the river below her, almost drowned out tonight by the noise of the wind in the trees. It was the best spot for watching the heavens. She was waiting for sunset and the first stars to come out.

Her gaze wandered over the buildings visible to her left under the canopy of leaves. There was the huge library, ranging over four floors and reaching down half way to the forest floor. Beside it was a two story building housing the market hall. On the other side of the great divide were some of the best homes in the city. Her friend Palemoon lived in one of the buildings a few bridges further back, a fine dwelling built into the branches of a giant oak with room after spacious room.

Willowtide looked back towards the horizon through the gap in the canopy over the bridge as the sun started to set. She was alone on the bridge. Most of the city elves tended to prefer bright daylight and were already safely indoors. She was the only one looking up at the sky as a huge shape swept overhead, its huge wings beating. Willowtide had never seen anything more exciting than an owl, or perhaps a hawk or two flying over the small gap in the trees before, and she could hardly believe what she was seeing. It was dark and the thing was masked by the trees, was it a wyvern, a griffin, or even a dragon?

She watched it dwindling towards the mountains, and then her young eyes made out, she thought, the creature landing and then it was gone. Willowtide was entranced, she stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared, hoping to catch another glance of it. Sunset was long past, the wind was dropping, and still Willowtide kept her eyes trained on the same spot, and then she saw it again. A darker shape against the dark, rising into the air dwindling from view and disappearing entirely.

She watched the sky long into the night hoping for another glimpse, but the creature seemed to have moved on.

Willowtide went to see Palemoon early the next day. She recognized her friend through the small stained glass window in the door before it even opened. She knew her friend's movements and mannerisms so well her silhouette was enough to give her away. When the door opened Willowtide was pleased to see she had been right, it was Palemoon with her green eyes, translucent skin and long black hair. Palemoon was wearing her usual fine clothes, soft leather boots, and a sparkling belt with a gold design against the black leather. Willowtide was chatting to Palemoon as soon as she was through the door.

You'll never guess what I saw last night, she said, shrugging off her light cloak, worn against the morning chill.

If it's something that elf boy showed you, I'm not interested, Palemoon replied, taking the cloak off her and throwing it over a branch that reached into the room through the paneling of the wall.

Eew, Willowtide replied, No. Nothing like that. I saw a strange flying creature. I think it was a Wyvern or a Dragon. She pointed toward Palemoon's room and raised a questioning eyebrow.

Palemoon nodded and followed Willowtide as she went on in. You're kidding. her friend said, Are you sure it wasn't just a really big bird?

Of course not, she replied, I'm not stupid. But can I look at the pictures in your big encyclopedia, just to be sure?

You're such a kid, Palemoon said, although she was only a month older, If you wanted to look in the encyclopedia, why didn't you just say?

She went off to her father's library to get it, leaving Willowtide to absently gaze about the room which she knew as well as her own from the many times she had visited her friend over the years. There was a bed built into the wall on top of a huge branch, a little wooden desk and chair, a chest with clothes in the corner and two small windows letting in the deep green light of the forest. Palemoon returned with the book, and opened it on the desk in front of Willowtide.

It was a huge tome, and obviously very old. Willowtide was aware it was very expensive, having been told at one time, but was so familiar with the book now that she hardly thought about it. To her inquisitive mind it was a treasure trove, pure and simple. Willowtide started to leaf through it looking for the relevant entries, Palemoon looking over her shoulder. They paused at various interesting pages, one showing a picture of an astrolabe, then a strange tool for getting stones out of horses hooves caught her eye, and then they reached the section devoted to dangerous creatures.

There was a very detailed picture of a goblin, the artist had drawn every wart on the terrible little creature's long hairy nose, and the creature was smiling, exposing its collection of uneven and jagged teeth. This was followed by illustrations of various fairies and pixies with wings like dragonflies and butterflies. These had been Willowtide's favorites since she was a very small girl. The illustrations in the encyclopedia were mostly in black and white but she could imagine the beautiful colors of their wings. She had seen a procession of fairies in the distance not long ago and spent longer watching them than was probably wise, even though she had made all the right warding gestures and repeated the charms she had been taught to keep her safe.

They were both so enchanted by the pictures of fairies that they almost forget why they had opened the book, but then they came to a section called Terrible Lizards. This is the section we need, said Palemoon.

I don't think I've ever looked properly through these pages before, said Willowtide, They look terrifying. That's it. That's exactly what it looked like

Willowtide was pointing at one of the rare colour illustrations. It showed a four legged beast towering over some fleeing humans, included to show the scale of the beast. It was covered in golden scales and had two huge bat like wings. It's tail ended in a sharp spike and it had horns like a ram and a sharp ridge running down its back. Its expression was cold, pitiless and proud.

The golden dragon. The most terrible of fire-breathing dragons, Palemoon read the caption below the illustration, You did not see one of them! Nobody else has said anything about it

This beast, Willowtide kept reading where her friend had left off, "spends most of its life sleeping on a giant horde of treasure that it typically collects as a young animal. It prefers the freezing surroundings of caves or the bottom of rivers for its lair, but will sleep almost anywhere. If encountered, do not wake this terrible creature, even very young specimens are very dangerous indeed. They can breathe a tremendous torrent of fire from their mouths.

They wake once or twice per year, usually either to eat or to find a mate. The female lays a single egg which it immediately abandons to its fate. These creatures are completely without fine feelings and lack even the most basic of maternal instincts. Oh that's sad

I don't know, said Palemoon, It must be hard to feel maternal about an egg. She started sniggering at her own little joke.

Chapter 2

Willowtide found herself returning to the bridge where she had seen the dragon again and again, although it never put in another appearance. She found herself worrying about something she had read in the encyclopedia, ‘The female lays a single egg which it immediately abandons to its fate.’

She was becoming convinced that the dragon had laid an egg and abandoned it to its fate. She couldn't stand the thought of any tiny animal having to fend for itself, all alone in the world. She wondered if the egg had already hatched yet.

Willowtide saw Palemoon approaching from the south end of the bridge. Palemoon saw her just a second or two later and came to lean at the side of the bridge with her.

Seen any more dragons, she asked.

You think I'm nuts, don't you?

Yeah, but in a good way, she replied.

That, Willowtide said, pointing at the mountain, is where the dragon landed. I think it probably laid an egg up there.

That's disgusting, said Palemoon, Who cares about giant monsters who could burn us all out of our homes laying eggs up on snowy mountains.

There's no snow on Balukin, Willowtide said, In fact, I'm thinking of going for a hike to take a look and see if that dragon egg is doing alright.

We'll you'll be on your own, Palemoon said after a short silence, I'm certainly not going with you, and I don't think anyone else around here cares one way or another what happens to a dragon egg.

Willowtide looked from the mountain to Palemoon, But what if it's hatched, she said, The poor little creature will be all alone.

Don't worry, Palemoon replied, I have a feeling that dragons can take care of themselves. When were you thinking of going

Tomorrow, Willowtide said. She hadn't got as far as planning her hike, and this was a spur of the moment decision, Before the weather turns and winter is upon us, she added as justification for her capricious impulse.

Forget it, Palemoon had stopped looking at the mountain off in the distance through the trees, and was now looking deep into Willowtide's eyes, Is this about your dad?

Willowtide was a city elf, but the journey to the mountains didn't seem too daunting. The days were still long and she was setting out early, so she thought she could well be home before nightfall, or at least shortly afterward. She was under no illusions though, the world outside the borders of the city was dangerous and she hefted her quarterstaff pensively before finally heading out the door. She was also aware of the unaccustomed weight of her backpack swaying clumsily behind her and the way the bridges and walkways creaked more than usual beneath her, and the extra weight of her rations and equipment.

Nobody took any particular notice of her, reminding her of her growing independence as she made the journey toward adulthood. She was assumed to be on some sort of errand for her parents, not a little lost child that had to returned to whoever was looking after her.

She took a direct route through the city to the north ramp. On the way to the north ramp Willowtide first had to go through the market, a tight network of intertwined alleyways and bridges in the center of the city, all suspended from the branches of massive trees by ropes that bore the weight of tons of produce, goods and equipment. The alleyways were lined with storefront after storefront, selling fruit, vegetables, clothes, weapons, luxury goods, like books and spices, and dingy places full of second hand shoes and other oddments, all cheek by jowl.

The walkways opened out after she had fought her way through the market place, bashing people with her backpack as she turned, having her traveling cloak stepped on, and holding her quarterstaff close to her chest.

She was now crossing the intricate system of gantries taking the devout into the different levels of the ancient tree. The tree was worshiped by one of the many religions plying their trade within the city, and the temple that had grown around it and within it's branches was magnificent. On an impulse Willowtide bought a small copper charm from one of the many stalls selling devotional paraphernalia and kissed it before hanging it round her neck on its leather thong, as was the custom.

Willowtide lived alone with her mother. Her father had been declared a wild elf and banished, though there was no longer the shame in that that there had once been.

When Willowtide reached the outer suburbs of the city, and knew the north ramp couldn't be far ahead, she could feel herself mentally stealing herself for the journey ahead. It all started to seem a little crazy, going to all this trouble because of a faint suspicion that a dragon baby might be in trouble. And dragons after all, with their huge size, fiery breath and fierce natures were almost as bad as the fire devils always lying in wait to burn down an unwary elven settlement, especially in the dry summer months.

The most fearsome devil in the traditions of the city was Basheeban the Fire Spitter, perhaps understandably for a people who made their home in wooden structures among the trees.

But when she thought about the poor little creature hatching into a hostile world all alone, she couldn't bare the thought that she had stood by and done nothing.

The bridges started to widen out, depending more and more on massive buttresses and arches to support them, rather than the ropes of the flimsier bridges deeper into the city. The flow of people had increased appreciably too, mostly heading into the city at this gods forsaken hour, with goods for the market piled high on hand carts and elves coming into the city on business from outlying settlements. There were some hunters and gatherers heading out with her to catch and pick a little something to supplement what they could get in the city.

At last the ramphouse came into view. It was an enormous structure supported by four old oak trees and numerous columns reaching down to the forest floor. There were two arches with portcullises made of metal, the left traditionally used by outgoing traffic. There were city guards here too, the first she had seen that day. They were mostly busy with incomers, leaning forward to smell the handcarts for goblins and other mischievous creatures that might try to smuggle themselves in, checking firewood for woodworm and bark weevils, making sure charcoal had paperwork proving it had been burnt outside the city limits and doing a thousand other petty tasks.

Only one guard was at the outgoing gate, being quizzed by the occasional hunter about the day's conditions and any reports of monsters or other uncanny perils.

Willowtide had never been confident talking to these rough elven men and women, with their unkind banter and sense of authority. She sidled up to where the guard, a young female elf with bark pattern cloak and silk shirt, a small pewter broach her only badge of rank, was laughing and chatting with an old male elf.

Goblin season, he said, You fine guardspeople bagged a few yet?

It's hard to tell them from some of you old hunters sometimes, she replied, causing the two more merriment, Shot two myself last night. They were close on the city limits about some foul business.

Willowtide felt the cold chill of adrenaline flood her system.

She was attentive at combat class, she practiced her guards and strikes assiduously, had even won some ribbons dueling with quarterstaff on the log, but she cringed at the thought of being confronted by a real life goblin, or worse a pack of them.

That's good, said the old hunter, a few casualties always makes the stinking curs a little more circumspect.

They both laughed again at the old elf's use of the ridiculously highfalutin word, circumspect.

Willowtide felt herself relax, relieved that at least the goblins today might be circumspect.

The old elf noticed her standing behind the two.

I haven't seen you out before young elfling, he said to her, If it's your first time out gathering berries there are a few tricks you should know that'll make your life easier.

Willowtide didn't want any questions about what she was doing, she knew how crazy and transgressive it sounded to be worried about a dragon of all things.

Wanting to decline gracefully she said, No thanks, I have to move fast today.

It was only when the guard started crying with laughter that she realized the insult she might cause the old man, suggesting he couldn't keep up.

He just smiled and waved her on her way however, and she virtually ran down the huge ramp.

Her feet felt the usual jolt of cold and strange dampness as they hit the unaccustomed earth. The trees looked different from the bottom of the ramp too. From down here they towered over her, the leaves and branches where the elves made their homes far above and out of easy reach.

There was no sign of the mountain, but there was a wide track leading away from the ramp that she knew would take her there. She was close enough to the city that she could jog quickly along the track with no real fear of meeting anything untoward. She glanced nervously from side to side, from time to time anyway, seeing ancient temperate rainforest carpeted in thick vegetation and acres of achingly green moss.

She met fewer and fewer people along the track, until a feeling of solitude began to set in. She started to walk more slowly and cautiously, and moved to the side of the road to be able to dive into the deeper forest if she spotted any danger up ahead, or felt it approaching from behind.

Old Balukin, the mountain, could be seen now and again through the forest canopy, each time a tiny, tiny bit closer than the time before. She knew that staring at it trying to work out how close it was would drive her mad. She just kept her head down and walked for a couple of hours and gratifyingly the next time she caught site of the mountain it had grown to almost fill the gap in the canopy she glimpsed it through.

She also spotted a village up ahead with its ramps down to allow easy access to passing elves on the path. She passed it by, not wanting to waste any time, secure in the knowledge that she had plenty of food and water and was making good progress.

She put her head down again, concentrating on just the track, the track up ahead, behind her and beneath her feet. After another couple of hours she became aware that the ground was becoming steeper. She was on the slopes of the mountain, which were still heavily forested. The trees didn't relinquish their hold on the mountain until about half way up its height. Willowtide was certain the dragon hadn't descended below the tree line however, so she just kept on going. She promised herself she would stop for her first bite to eat when she cleared the trees. She was looking forward to enjoying the view, a very rare treat for an elf of the city, hidden virtually their whole lives blow the canopy.

Chapter 3

Food always tasted better to Willowtide when she