As I walked into the cave there came a long, low moan. It startled me at first, but the second time I heard it a few moments later I was expecting it. I followed the moan deeper and deeper into the cave. I kept wondering what could be making that noise. It sounded almost mournful. Like the way a human child would cry when separated from its mother. Only this sound obviously wasn’t coming from anything human. It was like nothing I had heard before.
I kept following the strange cry deeper into the cave. The deeper I went the louder it got. That was the only way I could tell I was on the right track. I honestly couldn’t tell you why I was following some strange noise into a dark, desolate cave. It may have been a stupid move on my part. For all I knew I could be five minutes away from meeting my demise. Although in the dim light of my torch the tunnel seemed to stretch on for miles. But there was something in the air that felt like sorrow. Whatever was making that noise was extremely sad. Maybe that was why I was lead here by that strange force that seemed to be guiding me. Maybe I was to help whatever was making that noise.
Suddenly, the long, narrow tunnel opened into a large, round chamber. As I entered the chamber, the moans ceased abruptly. I must have startled whatever was making the noise. Then I saw it. Sitting in the middle of the round room was an animal I had never seen before outside of storybooks and movies. It was, in all respects, a dragon.
I’m no expert on dragons or anything but something told me, even though it was over eight feet tall, that it was still a child. It was sitting down. Its tail curled around itself with its head down. It looked so lonely. I approached it slowly, being careful not to startle it. As I touched its cheek it snorted, and I pulled my hand away quickly. Then, sensing I was in no danger, I returned my hand, moving my fingers slowly along its shiny purple skin. I liked the feel of its cold scales on my fingers. Its scales were cool to the touch, but somehow its body was still warm. As I traced my fingers along its jawbone, I noticed some scars. They appeared to be made by a whip. Then I noticed the start of a horn protruding from the space between its eyes. So far it was only a small bump, but eventually it would grow into a magnificent horn.
It lowered its head and nudged me with its snout as if telling me to touch it. Slowly, I reached up and the moment I touched the horn I felt a surge of energy. Suddenly I found myself watching a clip from the dragon’s past, as if I were watching a movie. For being a child, it was really quite old compared to humans. It was nearly four-hundred years old. In the clip I saw its mother, a larger version of this one, nearly a century old, its child at this time not even fifty years old and only three feet tall. It was a peaceful and beautiful scene of a mother and her child.
Suddenly, the mother stopped and sniffed the air. Sensing danger, she sent her baby to the deepest, darkest corner of the chamber, where it would be hidden in the shadows. The mother stood poised in front of the door, waiting to meet the attackers. Then, a large group of men burst in, carrying torches, spears, whips, and arrows, and anything else that could be used as a weapon. One man stood above the rest at the head of the pack. He had long, bushy red hair, and carried a large Scottish claymore. For a moment, all was still and silent. The men, just standing there staring at the beast waiting to greet them with a fiery blast from its mouth. The fear in the men’s eyes mixed with hatred for the magnificent beast that to them was an abomination of God. The mother stood waiting for them to make the first move. “Attack!” the leader screamed, and immediately the swarm hit her with everything they had. With such a large group, the mother hardly stood a chance. She had only killed about half of the men before they tied her down and killed her right in front of her baby child.
One man heard the baby whimper from the shadows in the corner of the chamber. He took a couple of his comrades with him to investigate. When they found the baby huddled in the corner they decided to have some “fun” and torture it. After countless lashes and numerous pokes and prods from swords and pitchforks, the leader spoke up again. “Leave it!” he said, “It poses no specific threat at this time.” The men rejoined the group and they all began cutting off numerous parts of the mother’s body, including the claws, teeth, and even the numerous plates running down its back. The leader climbed atop the dead beast and cut off her horn, the source of all a dragons mystical powers. All souvenirs of a battle well fought.
“You poor thing,” I said as I removed my hand. “Don’t worry,” I promised it, “I won’t let anything happen to you.” It seemed to trust me as it nuzzled its snout into my chest. And in that moment I knew that from then on I would forever be the Dragon Master, the Keeper of the Beast.
