Sacrifices

“It’s dying!” The girl with the dirt eyes and shadowy hair shouted as she touched the tree trunk.

“It’s winter, dear.” Her mother said as she approached the child. Her neat coat was tied closed, but she kept a hand around the collar nonetheless. “Trees sleep during the winter.”

“Don’t die.” The girl whispered to the tree. “Be whole and feel the sun.” She gave it a tight embrace before looking up at the branches. The dreary branches etched across the sky trembled as if stirred awake.

“Oh, Heavens,” her mother gasped behind her.

“Wake up!” The girl shouted. Green, supple leaves erupted from the branches. Hundreds of them blocked out the dreary sky overhead. The child giggled and clapped her hands. Turning to her mother with a grin, she exclaimed, “I woke it up!”

“Oh Heavens,” was her mother’s reply.

Bystanders spread the news of the witchling quickly. Children caught onto their parents’ ridicule, pointing and laughing at the girl every day she attended school. “Witchling! Witchling!” They echoed. She gave them a bitter, teary stare. The ground at their feet shook. They ran in fright, before regrouping and continuing their teases.

After a month of this, the child was happy when her parents took her by the hand, and led her past the school. She was too overjoyed to ask where they were headed. To be away from bullies was all she needed to know.

Her parents went through the tall gates of the imperial palace solemnly while the witchling stared with a bright grin. The knights bowed to her. She laughed and mimicked their movements. While her parents spoke to the king and queen, the child chased the royal cats around the halls.

“There is a great drought,” the King said as he stroked his beard as if it were a dog. “The gods must be upset.”

“The dragons,” the queen interrupted. “They are the embodiment of the gods. Perhaps the gods sent this child as Zeus sent the Minoans their white bull for sacrifice. We cannot anger the gods by not giving them what they want.”

“My child,” the mother countered. “She is not as great as a white bull.”

“But those with magic are dangerous to the kingdom.” The King said, nodding to himself. “And they are extraordinary, close to the gods. We should give her back to them.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Dearest,” her father called. “It’s time to go.”

It was early evening by then, and the child fell asleep in her father’s arms as they rode, with the knights, to an open plain. The snoozing child did not see her parents’ worried looks; they did not wish to explain to her the circumstances should she wake. The queen took out long sheets of white cotton when they arrived at a slate of granite in the middle of the open field. The stars had emerged by then, seeing what the child could not.

The queen calmed the mother while a servant covered the granite with the white sheet. The father placed the child gingerly onto the sheeted stone and took hurried steps away from his child. The king nodded approvingly, as he poured libations onto the ground, a mix of wine and blood. The wine to beckon the gods; the blood to draw the dragons.

They left soundlessly, for even the horses seemed to know the fate of the sleeping child.

----

A warm mist awoke the child, circling at her feet and wrapping around her body. She yawned and blinked several times in the sunlight. Something firm brushed against her toes. She yelped, jumping back onto the slate. A fire-colored dragon stared at her with a talon in its mouth. It sighed, and dipped its talon onto the moist ground. It tasted the wine and blood again. Grunting in displeasure, it rolled its shoulders and arched its back. Its leathery wings flapped twice, gathering air.

The child stared in awe. The dragon opened its mouth, as if to say something, but then thought better of it and pursed its lips instead. The child, fearless with innocence, ran to the dragon’s side, and attempted to climb onto the beast. The dragon shook lightly, tossing the child into the area between the wings. Once cradled, it took off.

The child shouted in glee as she clung to the beast. The scales were warm under her body, while the wind was soft in her ear. The journey was far too short for her, as they were entering a cave before she had fully appreciated the flight.

The dragon groaned into the cave. The child climbed off the beast, landing on her bottom. She didn’t have time to cry out, for in the darkness, she saw four golden eyes watching her. The dragon made another sound, as of beckoning the eyes. The eyes moved, and evolved into two smaller dragons. One water colored, the other fiery.

The girl rushed to her new friends, petting and scratching them. The silver one immediately responded, nibbling at her fingertips. The fiery one pressed its nuzzle against her leg and took a deep breath. The girl gasped and ran behind the first dragon, obviously the mother, to avoid another heated breath.

The mother growled at her children and pushed the child toward them again with her forelegs. The silver dragon flicked its tongue over the child’s leg, as if to make up for its aggressive sibling. The mother sighed, and went out to hunt.

Together, the child and two dragon children played. They chased each other around the cave, or the dragons showed the girl their old playthings, branches and swords their mother brought home from other flights. The mother flew thrice a day for each meal. She brought carcasses of lamb, cow or pig for her children. Branches of fruits were given to the witchling. The meals became larger for her children as they aged. The child lost track of time, knowing that it passed only by her playmates’ changes.

One day, the mother taught her children how to fly. The witchling cheered from the lip of the cave as the silver dragon easily adjusted to the air, gliding with finely veined wings. The fiery sibling reluctantly, after a push from its mother, stepped off the cliff. It hovered a while, succeeding in catching enough air to keep itself up. But it suddenly began to drop. Its mother growled its encouragement. Her child gained some height, but it cried out as its wings gave in.

The girl gasped and reached for the dragon, as if her tiny frame could handle a nearly full-grown dragon’s weight. It did. A fine air orb surrounded the dragon, and lifted it to the cave’s mouth. Without a sound, the fiery dragon slinked into the cave, and dropped onto its spot in the cave.

Flight practice continued for the silver dragon.

Late that night, the girl felt herself being rolled out from under the silver dragon’s protective wings. She thought of crying out, but found herself beside the fiery dragon’s belly. It brought its nuzzle against her forehead. She winced, ready for a heated breath. Instead, a flicker of a warm tongue pressed against the area between her eyebrows. She patted the dragon’s jaw line, and fell asleep.

Inevitably, the dragon hatchlings grew into adults, and soon took off in search of mates and their own territory. The elderly mother dragon bid farewell to her last batch of children, as she neared the end of her time. The girl, now a young woman, tended to the mother dragon as best she could. Using a mixture of honey and the pus of an aloe vera plant, she eased the aged dragon’s cracking skin.

One day, while the dragon sunbathed and the woman collected fruits for lunch, the sound of horses startled them. The woman disregarded them at first, knowing that wild horses ran through the countryside in packs. Then they heard human shouts. The dragon growled and motioned for the woman to hide behind her massive body. The woman complied, letting the fruits drop from her hands.

In the distance, the peaks of flags appeared. The dragon hissed. The woman bit her lip and climbed onto the dragon’s back. Together, they retreated to the cave, in hopes of escaping confrontation.

For the next few hours, shouts came from the plains above the cave. The woman huddled beside the dragon, whimpering. Despite her magical powers, she did not know how to fight, for she never needed to. The dragon cooed soothing sounds, but could do little more to comfort her.

“Ah ha!” Someone shouted into the cave.

The cave replied back, “Ha! Ha. Ha…”

“Release the maiden, foul dragon!” The metallic figure ordered.

“Dragon!” the cave retorted. “Dragon. Dragon…”

The woman, having been separated from humans for most of her life, knew not one word of the knight’s order.

The mother dragon reared up on her hind legs, spreading her wings so the woman could not see the fight. She roared as best her aged throat would allow. The woman faced the macabre silhouette of veins as the afternoon light passed through the scarred wings.

The fight was brief, as an aged dragon was no match against a skilled knight. With one swipe, the blade cut across her throat. The dragon fell heavily, coughing blood as it tried to call out to its human daughter.

The woman raced to her adoptive mother and cradled the bloody head in her hands. The dragon’s eyes became dull, then closed for the last time.

The woman buried her head against the dragon’s cheek, cooing as she tried to send her magick into the beast. Death remained firm.

“Maiden,” the metallic figure approached her, hand outstretched. “I have saved you.”

The woman looked up, eyes hot with anger and wet with tears. She outstretched her hands too, and fire erupted from her fingertips. The knight literally cooked within his armor.

Fueled with rage, the woman flew without wings to the rest of the army. She lifted her arms to the sky, summoning tall flames all around the men. The horses reared up, knocking off their riders, and ran out of the fire’s path.

In the end, the woman cleared away the charred bodies, and set a pyre for her dragon-mother. The smell of burning dragon flesh drew back her children. The skies filled with a dozen of the creatures, while the air rippled with their roars. Together they grieved for a time. As the dragons returned to their territories, one of them, fire-colored and young, stayed behind.

Years later, the townspeople warned visitors and their children of the mountain. They recall stories of when they told knights of a woman among the dragons, and later, when they tried to climb the mountain to retrieve the knights’ bodies. The earth would shake at their feet as soon as they are within eyesight of the cave’s mouth. A clear sky would suddenly become stormy, licking treetops with lightning.

Sometimes, when no one entered the hills, and the wind came just right through the trees, they could hear a woman’s laughter. And if they looked up at the cave mouth, they would see something spread its fiery wings, and circle the mountainside.