Beauty and the Dragon

by Melody Rose

  After I finished eyeing Lady Rosalind as though she were a delicacy I could dine upon, I could focus on the subtleties of Nadine’s handiwork. The Sorceress looked fully battle-ready with gold plate armor pieces where she would most require protection, her elbows, her waist, and her shoulders all adorned with the gleaming metal. It was as though the costume had lent her an entirely new personality or perhaps brought to the surface what was hidden within her.

  As Nadine strode by her side, there wasn’t even a brushstroke of bashfulness on Lady Rosalind’s features. Her exquisite face was the picture of cool composure, her amber eyes set with determination, and her lips pressed together sternly. I glanced to the side and watched as my kin studied her with unadulterated awe, some clearly steeped in envy. We never had an opportunity to attire ourselves like kings and queens since our monarchy had dissolved, and now, we witnessed the spellmistress paraded in front of us in the full regalia of our ancient royalty.

  As Nadine removed her hand from the Sorceress and walked to the center of the stage, Lady Rosalind clasped her hands in front of herself patiently. The raven-haired maiden nodded to the seamstress, a signal that she was fully ready to be presented. With a soft smile, Nadine accepted the cue and then scanned the gathered crowd with glistening eyes. She was clearly enthused to introduce the esteemed performer, and now, the once meek handmaiden was able to project her voice with ease.

  “Cherished warriors and battle maidens, it has been the moment that we’ve all spoke about, sometimes in hushed whispers,” she remarked coyly. “More often in bawdy tales across our campfires. Haven’t we all wondered if this Sorceress who has crossed the dimension is capable of all the Sage says she is?”

  While this may have been seen as a risky provocation from anyone else’s lips, I had the sense that Nadine was only stoking the flames because she truly believed in Lady Rosalind. While I would have frowned upon such theatrics if Lady Rosalind was not equipped to live up to them, I had already been face-to-face with what appeared to be a real dragon. There was no doubt in my heart that this show would be anything short of extraordinary.

  “Aye!” a warrior cried out to answer Nadine’s question. All my other comrades followed suit as they pumped their fists in the air. It was difficult to tell if they were truly excited for a feat of magical talent or if they were out for blood. Were they waiting to see that Lady Rosalind could not measure up to the Kalen’s ideals?

  I felt a flicker of irritation that anyone would doubt my guest with how hard she had trained for fortnights.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that!” Nadine howled, as rowdy as any of the clan’s soldiers. Perhaps their zeal had rubbed off on her. I could see from the corner of my eye that Harlin was smugly satisfied as to how well she now fit in. I wondered what may be in store for them after this evening.

  From my position in the front row, I thought I spied Lady Rosalind’s lips twitch slightly, fighting back a brash smirk. Her aura glowed a fiery crimson, clearly ready to prove her mettle.

  Nadine grinned majestically, then swept her arms out to either side, her voice leaping up even more octaves.

  “I shan’t keep you waiting any longer! Prepare to witness a performance like none you’d ever seen. Perhaps… you’ll even believe in magic again!”

  A hushed silence fell over the once boisterous gathering at that, balking at the very mention of enchantment. Nadine looked as though she were biting back a laugh as she walked off the stage to take her place in the crowd. She had a spring in her step and clearly considered slinking over to Harlin. When she thought better of it, the Chieftain pulled Nadine toward his side and whispered in her ear, eliciting a scandalized giggle. No one thought of mocking the foreign seamstress while in earshot of the most regarded warrior in our clan.

  “Thank you, Nadine, for that gracious introduction.” Lady Rosalind stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, fully grounded and prideful, her posture perfect and her chest puffed out. This stance was particularly ideal for drawing attention to her sculpted legs. The afternoon sun bathed her smooth skin, though I knew that soon enough, darkness would fall upon us all.

  “I have been tucked away for quite a while just to get to this moment,” she continued. Her voice was a mischievous melody rather than resentful of this. “It has truly been a pleasure to steep myself in your legends and lore. It would be my honor to return your hospitality by treating you all to a late afternoon play, a nod to the past.”

  The Sorceress then sauntered across the stage, the emerald silk of her loincloth gown swaying between her legs, gliding against the wood below her. The motion was both elegant and tantalizing, surely eye-catching to the entire audience. She pantomimed the act of deep thought, tapping her chin with a fingertip and looking up at the sky.

  “But… who will I speak of first?” she mused aloud. “What noble dragon should our performance deal with this time?”

  “Maybe… Viper the Violent?” Lady Rosalind asked coquettishly, flourishing her wrist as a miniature amethyst dragon spiraled out her finger. As she did so, the skies darkened into a dark lapis blue so that her illusion could be properly seen.

  The crowd let out a collective gasp, barely able to fathom that animated creatures could spill out from a woman’s hands at will. Our generation had only heard of Kalen’s visions or his former talents but had never seen any feat quite like this.

  I smirked, aware that this was just a sample of what the Sorceress was truly capable of.

  With another twirl of her fingers, Lady Rosalind arched her well-shaped eyebrows, aware that she had a captive audience as many of the warriors leaned forward, eager to get an ever-clearer perspective.

  “No, no, that won’t do either,” she remarked with amusement, clicking her tongue. “Could… Starblaze the Sapphire be the one? Or… Tharion the Topaz?”

  As Lady Rosalind posed both those questions, two small dragons raced forward from her fingertips, one a dazzling gemstone blue, thin and graceful, modeled off of an ancient princess, another a more robust and stocky dark yellow counterpart, her legendary guardian. They peered at each other quizzically, then braided together as though they were deeply in love.

  Even some of the most stony-faced and stoic among us seemed taken by this display, their eyes glistening with admiration and endearment. This was one of our most treasured tales, a folktale some even exchanged. Many regaled this story to their arranged companions, in the hopes that their match would prove to be as harmonious.

  “No, no,” Lady Rosalind repeated once again, allowing her stunning creations to dissipate into the skies. A somber quiet fell upon her as she stood unflinching, staring at the audience with an unnerving intensity. As she continued on, she chose a few fortunate clan members to lock eyes with, adding to the intrigue of the moment.

  Astrid pursed her lips in irritation, glaring at me as if to say that this was a waste of her time.

  I furrowed my brow at the spiteful battle maiden then shifted my gaze away. I didn’t want to prolong a silly feud with her or entertain her rudeness. I would deal with her inhospitality later, but for now, I was far more interested in focusing on the Sorceress.

  To my relief, Lady Rosalind was unfazed by any of her detractors. Her tone remained powerful and solemn and might have even won her new admirers. It was clear that she would not be intimidated.

  “I am not here before you all today to amuse you with tales from your childhood or any romantic novelties,” the raven-haired maiden warned with deep resonance, her amber eyes ablaze. I could see that she was now reaching her crescendo, ready to reveal her intentions. “I want you to set aside your doubts and know who you truly are… dragons! You were the most powerful warriors in the realm, in full control of your might and your magic!”

  I could sense my comrades struggle to process her audacity, somehow frozen in place even though they were offended.

  “So stay put, and believe your eyes!” Lady Rosalind ordered and raised her arms above her head, quietly commanding the sun to
set before the crowd could even make sense of it. A shroud of darkness fell over all of us, and not even a star glimmered in the skies to provide us a pinprick of light.

  Once she spoke again, her voice rang out as though she were a wraith, a spirit of the night that transcended a physical form. “For those of you that dared to claim that true dragons don’t exist, you’ll rue the time you said that! You’ve already seen day turn into night, and you’re in for a great deal more. So trust your eyes, because they do not deceive you. Your ancestors have risen to find you! And they are here to tell you… death to the Drikkende!”

  I found myself entranced with how much authority she conveyed, deeply attracted to the spellmistress even without seeing her, and despite their bewilderment about the sudden nightfall, my fellows were ignited by Lady Rosalind’s call to action. We cried out into the void, unable to see anything but deeply aware of our common hatred for the Drikkende. Even I was bellowing at the top of my lungs, spurred by the Sorceress’s ire.

  “Do you hear that?” Oddly, Lady Rosalind whispered, and yet her soft voice was heard from every corner. “Your allegiance makes your Królowa’s heart sing, and she is willing to reveal herself to you. Yes, it has been many years, but it is finally time. So much depends upon all of you in the coming seasons, and yet she will come when you need her the most.”

  The darkness was broken by a constellation of stars that glimmered into view, spilling a gentle glow upon us all. Once Lady Rosalind had provided enough light for us to see while holding onto a certain mystique, the piercing roar of a turned dragon echoed in the courtyard, eerily real. An excitable chatter hummed beneath the incredible commotion. This was shortly followed by an awed silence as an enormous emerald dragon soared above them. As its vast wings spread out and beat to keep it afloat, the crowd as buffeted by a gust of cold wind.

  “Behold, my blessed allies!” Lady Rosalind called out, though no one knew where to find her. “Queen Zielona, the Lady of the Green, the most revered battle maiden, has risen on this fateful evening to tell you all to brace yourselves. You must place your faith in her, even when the situation appears dire…”

  Even though I knew this was merely a spectacle, I was transfixed yet again. My heart throbbed just as it had during the last sighting of this sublime dragon, longing to be closer to it. I hadn’t any clue what she had prepared, nor why she advised us all to be wary of what may come next.

  As though the dragon was complying with Lady Rosalind’s rule, the enchanted form of Queen Zielona darted over the crowd at an alarming speed. The imposing creature appeared to be coming in for the kill, and all of my comrades froze in place. A conflict bound us all together, locked in utter terror of what the noble beast was capable of, though unwilling to believe our queen could harm us.

  While we stood below Queen Zielona, her unquestioning and loyal subjects, she unhinged her jaw, leaving very little to the imagination. It was clear that she would engulf us in flames in a few short moments, but why? As the dragon harnessed its energy from the pit of its stomach, I wondered if I had made a mistake. Had I collected the wrong woman? Was this actually an elaborate betrayal to unseat my clan from its position of power?

  As these questions raced through my mind, my heart was still strangely tranquil.

  Then, with one blaring roar, the dragon unleashed a torrent of jade fire, enveloping the throng of soldiers. Rather than letting out anguished screams from being scorched alive, all in the audience sang out in awe. While a certain warmth blanketed us, it didn’t harm us in the least. Instead, our spirits surged, inflamed by the enchanted blaze. Any hopes shattered by the hostilities of the Drikkende were healed like a wound, and I felt prepared to launch myself against an entire legion of the daemons.

  The uplifting doppelganger shot back into the sky, leaving a cool breeze in its wake, as well as an array of warriors who were transported back to their childhoods, worshipping the fables of the past. As the figment of our ancient queen whisked itself away, the darkness lifted as well. Many of my clan members began patting themselves in disbelief, confirming they were still alive.

  Pomi the Bard was the first to celebrate the display, whistling between two fingers, then applauding heartily. His enthusiasm roused us back to our senses, essentially delirious from Lady Rosalind’s reality-defying performance. As the sunlight beat down upon us, many of us tried to gather our bearings. We couldn’t contain ourselves any longer, though. As though the singer’s joy was contagious, we all mirrored his applause. With all of our loud mirth, Pomi had to shout over all seasoned soldiers, truly a testament to his lung capacity.

  “Incredible, phenomenal, unquestionably splendid!” Pomi cried out in sheer reverence. “Ah, even the most unparalleled battle ballads pale in comparison to the spirited illusions of our esteemed Sorceress. Why, it pains me to even say it was spellwork because I feel in my bones that we’ve all encountered the Królowa herself. You cannot convince me otherwise! Lady Rosalind must have channeled her.”

  Pomi then turned to the warrior closest to him and grasped her by the shoulders. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t sense it! The energy of our dragoness coursing through the courtyard! Protective, valiant, and resolute, just like we’ve always been told when we were young and skinny as reeds.”

  Rather than commiseration, Pomi received a hiss of irritation. Of course, he had the misfortune to share his joy with the tow-headed battle maiden, Astrid. She met him with a cutting glare.

  “Oh, come off it, you sack of hot air!” Astrid spat out. “Are we really going to allow ourselves to be so smitten over a heap of trickery? By the cosmos, that wily Sorceress is trying to threaten us, but I won’t have one bit of it. It was all just a pretty hoax, nothing more.”

  Lady Rosalind didn’t need any of the clan to defend her honor. She waltzed out from the shadowy fringes of the stage to take her place in the center yet again. With arms crossed over her pert chest, she straightened her back in a defiant stance. She peered down at Astrid with an annoyed but not entirely condescending expression.

  “With all due respect, miss,” Lady Rosalind said through gritted teeth that were then rearranged into a begrudging smile. “I had absolutely zero intentions of hurting anyone here. I wouldn’t have cooped myself up in the temple for weeks on end if it was just to pull one over you.”

  Astrid stood below her with a stony expression, shaking off Pomi’s hand to free herself of the laughing bard. Despite her anger, the battle maiden was too shocked to form one of her usual quips.

  “And to reiterate,” the incensed Sorceress fully threw herself into a tirade, her eyes flashing, “I never asked to be here! Your Sage and Chieftain chose me, and I did all of you the service of making something of myself! I threw myself into your books… which I don’t see any of you do nearly enough… to create a performance that would truly be meaningful to everyone!”

  A hushed shame fell upon everyone at Lady Rosalind’s compelling complaint. While we had rested for so long on our laurels, gratified with our boundless strength, our humiliation at being surrounded by texts that were now alien to us lurked below the surface. For many moons, we’d been able to evade this reality by remaining insulated in our stronghold or coming back blood-soaked with victory. Now, we were forced to stare our greatest weakness in the eye.

  There was one small caveat, and perhaps a saving grace. I’d never revealed to Lady Rosalind that we were an illiterate race, drained of our ability to comprehend even a single symbol. For now, she seemed completely oblivious to the embarrassment she dredged up for the Jörmungandr clan. I cleared my throat to cut in, striving to intervene before she lost the admiration that was just built up.

  “Let me explain,” I prefaced my defense. “Our esteemed Sorceress comes from a realm where reading is the cornerstone of her culture and, in fact, resided within a haven of books. She is perhaps more adamant about learning from ancient works than most, but she truly means the best.”

  The anxiety of my kin seemed to melt away with my rea
ssurances, and so I continued. “Let us also bear in mind that Lady Rosalind has been taken away from her own kind and then relegated to the temple until she could earn your trust. I am sure that anyone among us would be spent after this, and yet she has done exceedingly well, no?”

  Harlin nodded in agreement, his arm still encircled around his favored seamstress. This was a rather bold gesture, claiming a druid and an outsider before the eyes of every clan member. I appreciated this, as it would only bode well for me. If the highest-ranking dragon among us deigned to approve of a woman from another land, then it wouldn’t be a tremendous betrayal for me to pursue Lady Rosalind. Even Astrid would need to come to terms with this.

  “Enough of this pettiness, Astrid,” he commanded. “Your finesse in swordplay and the arts of war is profound indeed, but I have given you far too much leniency to act as you so please.”

  Astrid spun around to orient herself to the towering chieftain, raking her eyes over Nadine in disgust she didn’t bother to conceal.

  “I am only looking out for the best interests of our clan,” Astrid answered with a small growl, careful to not step too far even as her eyes flashed. “I do not want us to be deluded by charlatans, singers, and…”

  The blonde spitfire was veering dangerously close to belittling the weaver’s role crafting costumes. As her eyes traveled from Nadine’s and met with Harlin’s, she cleared her throat and redirected herself.

  “... other such unsavory characters,” she concluded.

  Harlin lightly patted Nadine’s hand, then stepped away so he could approach the testy battle maiden. The seamstress’ eyes watered, and as if on cue, Lady Rosalind gracefully slinked off the stage and over to her newly acquired friend. They murmured softly together, and the Sorceress was even able to elicit a quiet but cheerful giggle from the gentle druid.

  “Do not claim to have noble aims here, Astrid. I may be reasonable, but I am no fool. You have become far too accustomed to stockpiling praise, but you are not the only clan member who matters here,” he reprimanded her before the entire crowd, perhaps to make his point clear. “You would recall from our legends, well, if you bothered to heed Bard Pomi’s songs, that we cherished so many gifts other than overpowering others. Our ancestors only wished to use our might when absolutely needed.”