The Dragon's Redemption
John Bray
The tall, willowy figure
picked his way along a rock-strewn defile, sharp-edged gusts streamed his silver-gold mane behind him as he strode. Purposeful steps brought him up a long gentle incline which crested at the lip of a valley. He trod the narrow trail through the dense trees that marched upward to the distant peak, began his steep descent into the vast sylvan thicket and sensed the culmination of his quest.
On the mountain side of the valley dawn had painted the horizon with hues of magenta and lavender. The cave he sought came into view up ahead amid an out-cropping of jagged boulders, the air now faintly redolent of sulfur. The tall youth lengthened his stride, cobalt eyes fixed on his destination. Without warning the ground quaked beneath his feet. The tall pines trembled from the force of a thundercrack roar.
“Approach no further, Elvin Priest.”
“I seek your aid Dragon Tremgar,” the youth said, his left hand resting lightly on the leather pouch at his belt that contained his prayer talisman.
”My assistance is not given.”
Undaunted, the young priest took a few steps closer. “I am Gamaliel, priest of the Woodland Elves. I come to implore your aid. My people are in great peril, Dragon Tremgar.”
“I know them to be a peaceful tribe but their peril concerns me not, shunned as I have been these many ages,” the dragon replied. ” Now they send an emissary.”
“We have left you to your solitude, Dragon.” Gamaliel said. “A warrior of great strength and mighty deeds, you stood against the Terrible Forces that had threatened this land. You led your forces in many battles, won glorious victories. In battle you had slain a prince of a kingdom nearby. While you sought a well-earned peace, a spell was cast upon you. An ancient sorcerer then imprisoned you in this present form. After you had fallen prey to that conjurer, you retreated in shame to this mountain close.”
“Silence, Elf!” the dragon growled. “Your flattery has no coin here. These long ages I have remained alone. Now you seek to employ my powers. Return to your tribe. Their plight does not concern me.”
“Fierce Dragon, our need is great. The danger is imminent. The Valmor, Elves of Malice, those who have succumbed to evil, now use their powers to threaten this whole land.”
“Young priest Gamaliel, for many ages your tribe has withstood them. Now you implore my help? Do not disturb my solitude.”
“Hear me out, Dragon Tremgar. They have summoned a fierce demon from the east. Its strength is almost limitless. Even now it slowly assumes corporeal form. Nothing in our power can withstand it. In whatever shape it takes, if it is loosed upon us, our people will be vanquished, the survivors scattered. We may flee now, and so disperse. Separately, many may survive, however our woodland would be lost forever. Then finally, Valmor would command the demon to confront you.”
“Depart now, priest. Do not engage me with rhetoric. I am not persuaded by clever polemics.”
“Great Dragon, you know, by the guile you possess, that as a priest of the Woodland Elves, I am incapable of dissembling. No cunning argument is interposed. I state the truth, as I know it. This demon knows no bounds -- it will do as commanded for as long as it remains in corporeal form. The day foretold by the Ancient Runes now approaches.”
“Priest Gamaliel, I seek truth in your eyes, or clever sophistry, but do not attempt to deceive me. Deception would merit you a horrible fate.” He paused, “One so young, to be a priest, you have been set apart.”
“At birth, Dragon, my mother made the perilous journey to the Lake of Silbeth, its waters invested with power to ordain those who find it, and are plunged into its limpid depths. Thus bathed, I was granted the powers of the Elvin Priesthood.”
“Then you know I have pledged to fight no more,” the dragon said.
“Fierce dragons have come before and ravaged the countryside until they were slain by intrepid warriors. You, Dragon Tremgar, have caused no harm. Now, there is great need.”
“Be gone, priest.”
“Hear me, Dragon. The Ancient Runes have told us that the demon must engage whatever it confronts. If harm befalls its corporeal shape it will revert to the unsubstantial. It will range throughout the world to seek another form. The evil Valmor would require centuries to summon it again. Your talons alone may triumph. Your mighty tail may sweep it from the earth. Your scales, like impenetrable armor will withstand its assault. When harmed, the demon cannot remain in corporeal form.”
The Dragon rumbled his dissent.
The Elvin priest continued. “In the past you had ranged forth to give battle to wicked forces. Should you now come to our aid, your outward form destroyed, what would remain will be your essence. You will merit eternal life, the spell that binds you forever broken, your spirit freed from the saurian prison that now holds you.
“Nothing can free me now,” the dragon interrupted.
“I believe otherwise. If you come to our assistance and emerge victorious, you will roam the Woodlands, forever in the company of the Elves you save -- thus nevermore to hide in shame or count yourself as hideous. The demon’s power is almost limitless, but once its form is assailed it will return to the incorporeal. Great Dragon, the reward for your sacrifice is freedom. You will attain freedom from your present form, freedom from your shame, freedom from your age-old solitude.”
“Your tribe has sent an emissary with a silken tongue. You have not yet told me how this demon will appear.”
“It comes as a fearsome shape over the distant hills. Eternal life awaits you Dragon. The Ancient Book prescribes just reward for those who sacrifice for others.”
“Abide here,” the dragon ordered, “I will retire to my den to contemplate your message.”
The Priest of the Elves reclined against a smooth-faced boulder and watched the distant horizon. From afar, billows of dark cumulus massed, rent by ominous white-hot bolts that seared the heavens. A long, sinuous shape streaked through the sky toward the Elvin forest.
The demon approaches our land, the priest thought.
“Revered Deity,” he whispered, “Hear my plea. Strengthen the Great Dragon that he might meet his destiny with us, your true servants. Let his will be joined with yours, let him go forth to oppose the terrible forces that menace our people.”
An ear-splitting roar rang in Gamaliel’s ears, the searing breath of the dragon as it emerged, swept over him. The earth trembled with a violent shudder; the sun became obscured by a vast shadow. With his far-seeing vision, the young priest stood, head tilted upward, while the fearsome tableau played out before him. The creature passed above, its scales gleaming like polished onyx. Borne aloft, the dragon soared on leathery, chiropteran wings that spanned one hundred cubits, became a speck against the looming clouds.
The distant serpentine form turned toward the onrushing dragon and began to coalesce into a dark mass. A shudder of horror wracked the Elvin priest, “shape-changer,” he gasped. The demonic form became a hideous maw. Tongues of ephemeral fire spat outward from its gaping orifice. The dragon prepared to meet his adversary. He reared his head upward and sped on, rampant, as in heraldic devices, talons deployed.
Above the distant mountains, the ever-darkening sky sundered by fiery bursts, signaled the fierce combat. The demon sought to engulf the dragon. Tremgar maneuvered to avoid the fire-fringed jaws and attacked from the flank. The demon wrenched and twisted with a frenzy summoned from the abyss from whence it sprang. The two dreadful forces tore at each other without respite. Viscous, poisonous smoke emanated from the battle until a Stygian darkness obliterated the sun. Once again Tremgar broke free and tore at his adversary. To counter this escape, the demon changed shape to ensnare the dragon in its coils. Maddened by the suffocating vapors and the dreadful pain, Tremgar the Dragon slashed with his talons, lashed in every direction with his enormous tail. Fiery bursts erupted from the fray when the demon tried to crush the intrepid dragon.
Then a sudden, incandescent cataclysm caused the horrid foe to collapse into an amorphous, blackened shape plummeting from the sky. Its impact on the nearby mountainside flattened trees for miles in every direction. The once invincible demon lay almost formless among shattered boulders and blasted tree-trunks. Gamaliel stood frozen. The remains of the great dragon spiraled downward towards him. With his mind benumbed by what he had witnessed, the priest uttered his most powerful Elvin prayer.
A thunderous explosion shook the valley below. The force of the blast slammed Gamaliel against the bole of a gnarled oak tree where he lay stunned and motionless. He lay prostrate with a death-like stillness. Then a form like an apparition strode toward him from the forested valley. Drawing closer clad in burnished armor, carrying a sword that gleamed with reflected sunlight, a warrior entered the clearing where Gamaliel lay.
“Arise, priest,” the armored figure said. “I am Tremgar, freed from my age-old bondage. The demon is vanquished. Let us return to your tribe of Woodland Elves. Your people strive in battle against the Evil Ones.”
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John Bray spent 17 years on the New York Police Department, and practiced criminal defense law on Long Island for 33 years. He has a Bachelor’s degree from John Jay College, a Masters degree from the Seminary of Immaculate Conception, and a law degree from Brooklyn Law School. Currently John serves as the Vice-President of the Chesapeake Bay Writers Club.
John’s short story The Sergeants’ Club was published in the inaugural issue on Freedom Fiction. His first Novel, The Ballad of Johnny Madigan is under contract for publication with Be Write Books of Lancashire England and awaiting publication.
