The Last Dragon

Chapter 6: Dragon

“Sir!” Anto called. The boss walked over to him.

“Isn’t someone else supposed to be here?” he demanded.

“Sick,” Anto confirmed. “I volunteered to take his place.” Satisfied, the boss asked:

“So what was it you wanted?”

“Sir, several aircraft are headed this way, flying unnaturally high. I think they’re on a collision course.” The boss swore heartily.

“Scargon! How many?”

“About twenty-five.” Anto was getting nervous.  “They... They don’t know we’re here. Do they?” The boss glanced down at the radar screen, then walked into his office.

“I’ll decide on the best course of action,” he said as he exited.

Guzray opened the door to the dragon enclosure. He quickly looked around. The dragon was deep inside its cave, only its chain visible, but more importantly, John was nowhere to be seen.

“John?” Guzray called half-heartedly. There was no answer. Where is that human? He pondered as he slammed the door shut, locking it for the night.

 

One hour later...

John awoke in total darkness. He was lying on something rough, but soft. He reached out with his arm and scraped it against some rock. He looked at his glow-in-the-dark watch. 11:16 pm. The dragon enclosure would be locked by now. If I still am in the dragon enclosure. John tried to recall the events before he – fainted, did I faint? – He remembered the dragon. What happened? Oh well, I suppose it’ll have to wait ‘till morning. As John settled down to go back to sleep, he did not notice the steady breathing beside him.

John shivered in his sleep. He rolled over onto his left side and snuggled against something warm and silky. It made a noise similar to a grunt as he came into contact with it. John didn’t mind. The sound was strangely comforting. In John’s dream, Guzray was there. What he was saying made no sense though.

“Hey! Where are you? I’ve got your food!”

 

“Heloooooooooo!” Guzray tried again. “Hey! Come on! Food!” he repeated. Guzray frowned. This was unusual. The dragon was never late for his breakfast. “I’ll just leave it here then.” Guzray did so, right in the centre of the vast room. Guzray could still see the dragon’s chain leading into its cave, but he did not enter for fear of the dragon’s reaction. He’ll get hungry soon. Come lunch time, it’ll all be gone. Guzray left the room.

John was awake now. Light shone onto the rocky walls of what John guessed was a cave. The silky surface John had slept against was gone now, and he found himself wondering if he had dreamed it. John got to his feet and stretched. He looked at the time. 9:11 am. John walked towards what he thought would be the exit, but tripped after a few steps. He flailed as the ground rushed up to meet him, he managed to catch himself, grazing his hands in the process, but was otherwise unharmed. He rolled onto his back; something was tangled around his ankle. John studied it, and was amazed to find some kind of crude shackle anchored to the wall. He struggled to remove it, to no avail. He searched his pockets, only to find them all empty, and, to his bemusement, his shoes were missing. Suddenly, heavy footsteps and a soft clicking sound echoed throughout the cave. John looked up to see the dragon entering. John groaned in despair. The dragon had some raw pork in its talons, which it placed on a nearby rock. The dragon released a small jet of flame. When the fire subsided, the dragon took the pork and offered it to John. He accepted it, realising he had not eaten since breakfast the previous day.

“Thank you,” he found himself saying to the dragon. He took a bite to find the meat was delicious, cooked perfectly. Meanwhile, the dragon strutted around the room as if he had just done the cleverest thing in the world, then settled down nest to the bed made of sacks and cloth that John had slept in the previous night. John eyed the dragon as he finished his pork. When he had, he examined the ‘bed’. The material had been cut with some kind of talon. That or a rock, and John didn’t see many cavemen around. John glanced back at the dragon.

“You did this, didn’t you?” John addressed it. “You set this up, all by yourself.” The dragon stared at him, then bobbed its head up and down. John laughed, realising this was the dragon trying to nod. “I suppose you have a word for yes.” The dragon growled. “Was that it?” The dragon bobbed its head up and down again. John leaned forward. This could work. John tried to repeat the sound, and failed. This triggered a series of snorts and grunts from the dragon. John was amused to find that the dragon was in fact, laughing. John blushed slightly, a bit embarrassed. “Let’s see you do better.” He challenged.

“Strak groo,” grumbled the dragon comically. John almost died of mirth, rolling on the floor, as the dragon tried again and again, not one to back down from a challenge. John, when he got his breath back, interrupted him.

“Okay, how about I speak in my language, and you speak in yours. I’ll learn as we go.” The dragon agreed to this with that same awkward bobbing motion. And so, for the next few hours, John prompted the dragon with human words, and struggled to learn the dragon versions of them.

Knock knock knock.

“Who is it?” Dareen demanded.

“It’s me boss, Anto.” Dareen sighed. It wasn’t easy being the leader of APARS.

“Come in.” Anto did so.

“The aircraft sir. The ones we saw earlier?” Dareen motioned for him to continue. “They’ve landed. They dropped off the radar just five minutes ago.

“Good. Where exactly, did they land?”

“Err... somewhere directly below us, I believe.” Dareen slammed his fist down on the table.

“I said exactly where. This is too much of a coincidence to ignore. You cannot let those humans out of your sight! You hear me?”

“Y-yes sir,” Anto stuttered as he scurried out the door. Dareen leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. Too young, that’s his problem. Need someone more serious and devoted. It would take a lot to convince me Anto is ready for a job here.

 

Admiral Carlson stood by his boss, who was seated behind an antique birch wood desk.

“Why do we delay? Should we not execute the attack immediately?” the admiral inquired.

“We are not ready yet,” the reply was soft and calm, barely louder than a whisper. The owner of the voice, a blonde-haired man at the age of about thirty-eight, was sitting at the desk previously mentioned. “It will be another week at least before we have the correct weaponry. And the armour. Plus, we still need to find an operations headquarters.  Besides, you could use a vacation,” the man at the desk winked with one of his hazel eyes. Admiral Carlson sighed. He was too hardcore for that.

“Or, I could find out what type of weapons angels and elves use.” This was no joke, metaphor, nor smart comment, for the man at the desk was none other than Drake Daranison.