by Megan Linski
“Wanda, not again,” I warn her. I already know what she’s going to do.
“They’re talking about something.” A smile curls on her lips. “Something important.”
She slinks against the wall and leans her ear against the closed doorway to the throne room, putting a finger to her lips.
“Wanda, we really shouldn’t.”
“Ssh,” Wanda hisses. “Listen!”
Suppressing a groan, I slink against the wall and lean closer to the doorway, to listen in. At first, I don’t hear anything but muffled voices, but I’m drawn inward as the whispering voices grow louder with the intensity of the conversation.
“You must take this threat seriously, my king.” Pawel, one of Krakus’s advisors, is pacing the room. I can hear his sharp steps as they clip along the wooden floor. “This is the third dragon attack this year.”
“And we’ve held up well against all of them,” Krakus says. “There were minimal casualties this time, and the repairs on the towers won’t bankrupt us. I say we’re becoming experts at destroying these monsters. He doesn’t dare attack us now.”
“All the same, I only advise we use precaution, and kill this creature before it kills us.”
“The Wawel dragon is no threat to us.” King Krakus’s voice booms across the court.
I hold my breath. They’re talking about the Wawel dragon. I lean in closer.
“It is a threat to your treasury.” I hear a piece of parchment unrolling. “The amount of gold you give the Wawel dragon each month to keep him from attacking the city is more than what you spend on any supplies, or even salary agreements for your knights and advisors.” I hear Pawel sniff.
“It’s a fair agreement. I give him coin, and he promises not to devour my village.” King Krakus slams his hand on his throne.
“The Wawel dragon is the only one left in the area. If we kill him, our dragon problem would be over,” Pawel insists.
“You don’t understand. The Wawel dragon is a more dangerous creature than you think,” Krakus says ominously. “This isn’t like the copper we killed today, or the blue, which was quickly dealt away with last month. Those were young dragons. Wild. Easily tricked and fooled.”
I make a face. The copper dragon didn’t seem easy to kill today. This only makes the Wawel dragon more terrifying.
“The Wawel dragon is a different story,” Krakus continues. “He’s the deadliest dragon I’ve ever come across. He is old. Intelligent. Cunning. Wiser than any of us, I’m sure.”
“You talk of him as if he were a human,” Pawel says dryly.
“No. Smarter than a human, better. It won’t be easy to kill him. We would need to create some sort of devious plan to even hope to succeed. If he found out about an attempt to kill him, or if we sent a horde of knights inside the cave to do the job, he would flatten the village before we’d turn our heads to watch.”
“Yes, my king, but I highly doubt he’ll be satisfied with gold forever,” Pawel says. “Dragons rarely are. Eventually, he’ll want more than we can give.”
The king takes a breath. “Yes. You’re right. I suppose we have to do something soon.”
“It won’t be long now before he makes a move. You strike first, before he has a chance.”
“Perhaps.” There’s a creaking noise as Krakus gets off his throne. I can hear his steps as they proceed in my direction. “I need time to think upon it.”
Krakus’s footsteps grow closer. Wanda grabs my hand and wrenches me away from the door. We run down the hallway and turn the corner just as her father steps out of the door we were standing behind.
“What excitement!” Wanda says breathlessly. “Father’s thinking of confronting the Wawel dragon! That would be a sight to see, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” I reply. The idea makes me uneasy.
“Father can handle it,” Wanda says confidently. “He’s the greatest dragon slayer alive. There’s no reason to be frightened. He should do it now. I only hope I’m there to witness when he chops off the dragon’s head.”
I keep my mouth shut. If King Krakus believes half of what he said about the Wawel dragon, he’s right to be scared of it.
We all should be.
Chapter Three
After listening in on Krakus we went to steal some scales from the dragon, but to Wanda’s disappointment, it had already been moved by the time we arrived. By the time Wanda was finally finished gossiping with the villagers about the dragon attack, it was dark, and long past dinner.
I got Wanda ready for bed and returned to the servant’s quarters to sleep, but my dreams were filled with leathery wings and dragon’s fire. Worst of all was a pair of bright red eyes, staring at me from the darkness.
Even now, I can’t get the sight of those red eyes out of my mind. They follow me, haunting me like a ghost.
“I’m very sad we didn’t get the scales,” Wanda says in a surly fashion as I brush her hair, getting ready for breakfast. “I could’ve had a copper necklace.”
“We would’ve had time if you hadn’t stopped to eavesdrop,” I insist.
“But it was important!” Wanda says. “Do you know about the Wawel dragon?”
“Everyone knows of him. But I’m not sure there’s much to know about him,” I respond.
The village of Krakow towers upon a large hill. The Wawel dragon lives underneath the hill, in a dark cave no one dare enters. He’s been there for a long time, nearly two decades, but no one has ever seen him come out, save for that one time when he met with King Krakus to make a bargain. If the king allowed him to stay underneath the village undisturbed, and paid him a cart of gold each month, he would not attack Krakow nor slaughter its people.
King Krakus agreed, but it appears he wants to break the treaty now.
I don’t see the point of it. If the dragon isn’t bothering us, just let it be. I’ve run from enough dragons to last a lifetime. No sense purposely provoking it and risk losing the village when we have a treaty that works for everyone.
“Did it ever occur to you how ironic it is that my father’s a famous dragon slayer and that his village is built on top of a hill with a dragon underneath it?” Wanda babbles.
“I’m well aware.” Wanda’s endless talking about the Wawel dragon is becoming annoying, but you don’t tell a princess that, so I put up with it.
“Oh, you’re no fun.” Wanda bounces up from her seat and flounces to the wardrobe. “What do you think I should wear to the ball now that my new dress is ruined? Green? Red?”
“You could wear the blue again,” I say.
“I don’t want to wear the blue. Krzysztof’s already seen it.” Her eyes gleam.
“Krzysztof will like you in anything you wear.”
“Oh, Fliss. Do you think tonight’s the night? Do you think Krzysztof will finally propose?” Wanda bounces up and down.
“He’s only been courting you three months,” I remind her. “Be patient.”
“But so many other princesses would be married by now!” She flops back down on her chair.
“Krzysztof’s busy killing dragons. That is a knight’s job,” I say. “He doesn’t have much time to plan a wedding.”
“But Father promised me!” She crosses her arms and pouts. “I hate all this dragon business. I wish they’d hurry up and kill them all and be done with it, so I could marry my knight!”
“That’s gruesome.”
“It’s true!” She lets out a big sigh before slapping her hands on her knees. “Would you run into town and pick up a few things for me? Baby’s breath, rosewater, face powder? I need to look my best for tonight.”
I nod, and Wanda hands me a couple of coins. I notice there’s more there than she usually gives me.
“One of these would be enough to pay for what you want,” I say.
“Pick out something for yourself as well.” She beams. “It’s well time my handmaiden had her own knight.”
I don’t remind her that Krakus would have to approve my m
arriage, and the law states I couldn’t marry anyone other than a fellow slave, but I smile back. I’ve been personally serving Wanda since I was thirteen, and she’s my best friend. She was my closest companion after the loss of my parents. I go along with anything her heart desires, just to make her happy.
“I’ll be back soon,” I tell her. I wrap a thick cloak over my tunic and slip on my boots, before grabbing a wicker basket. No doubt Wanda will be out riding when I’m gone. Can’t keep that girl away from horses.
When I leave the fortress and begin the walk into town, I notice that work rebuilding the village has already begun. Villagers are repairing the thatch roofs, and starting over on the houses that were burnt down completely. I’m happy to see that the damage doesn’t appear as bad as it did when the dragon was rampaging through the streets yesterday.
It’s quite busy. Like always, I can’t help but notice the seax’s that the free men and women of the village carry around. The seax’s are attached to their hips with scabbards. The single-edged blades clink seductively against the belts of the peasants, calling me.
“King Krakus saved you. A lifetime of servitude is nothing compared to being eaten by a dragon,” I remind myself. “Be grateful you’re still alive.”
I am grateful, but a smidge of resentment nibbles at me. I would give anything to have a seax and be known as a free woman. Not that there’s anything I could give, but the statement still stands.
When I arrive at the apothecary, I find it busy. Villagers are picking up herbs for burns and open wounds. Even though I’m a slave the peasants part for me when I pass through, as I’m the king’s slave and as such, am not to be touched. The rest of the Poles walk around each other like they own the place, cutting each other off with no regard for whoever’s trying to get around.
“Oh, what all did Wanda want again?” I mutter. “Baby’s breath, rosewater…oh…”
It’d be easier to remember everything if I had a list, but I can’t read. I finally remember the face powder and purchase the items, glad to be out of the small store.
The clothes shop is empty when I enter, save for a surely woman at the back who is sorting out tunics. It takes me forever to choose something, but since this is most likely the only time I’ll ever have a chance to wear a nice gown to a ball, I’m going to be picky.
I finally settle on a black woolen dress, with a mantle of the same color. I pay the woman and exit the shop, feeling quite giddy. I’m going to a ball, and I won’t be dressed as a slave for once. It’ll be so nice to pretend to be someone different, just for a night.
To get home, I decide to avoid the crowded way I came and pass through one of the poorer districts instead. It’s where the sick, the orphans, or the elderly who don’t have family live. I don’t like coming through here, as it bothers me to see people begging on the sides of the road for food.
I consider taking the long way around before a lone figure catches my eye. There’s a man wearing a dark, linen cloak, handing out gold coins amongst the beggars. He’s carrying a basket full of bread, giving full loaves to children and kneeling down to hand food out to the elderly who can’t reach up to get it.
Dirty orphans cling to his cloak, smudging it with filth, but he doesn’t seem to mind. This surprises me. Linen is an expensive, rare fabric. If he doesn’t care about them ruining it, it’s obvious that this man is someone who is well off.
The hood of the cloak is pulled over his head, so I can’t see his face. The hood nearly drops to the chin of the man, concealing his identity completely.
I nearly fall over when I see the man distributing medicine, expensive medicine, to some of the cripples in the square. Such charity is unheard of. The wealth acquired to purchase such precious items that he’s simply giving away must be vast and endless. Who is this man? Someone sent by the gods?
Something about this man is different. In this moment, I feel a connection to him. Like he’s the only person in the world who can understand me.
Stupid thought, considering he’s rich and I’m a slave.
I still have a tiny copper left over from the dress shop. Knowing Wanda won’t mind I hand it to one of the beggars, and the man notices. His mouth remains a passive line.
“Do you do this every day?” I ask the man. I dare to come near him, though I’m sure such a good man won’t harm me.
He doesn’t answer, only takes a few steps backward. He’s retreating.
“It’s very honorable,” I add. “Many of those with wealth keep it to themselves.”
Still no response. I venture closer, curiosity getting the best of me. I bend down to peek under the hood, but before I can catch a glimpse of his eyes, the stranger takes off.
“Wait!” I call after him. “I just want to say thank you!”
He doesn’t listen. He’s sprinting to get away from me, which is quite an odd thing to do.
It’s undignified for a person to run when not being chased by a dragon, but I’m dying to know the man under the hood. I take off after him, and clutch my basket so the items I bought don’t jumble out. People shout at me when I knock them aside, and I hastily apologize, but the man is getting away.
He’s a lot faster than I am. He scampers past the huts, bends his way through the crowd and vanishes. I keep running, to the edge of town and all the way down the hill, but it’s no use. He’s gone.
I bring myself to a stop, breathing heavily. People are looking at me strangely. My cheeks redden in embarrassment.
A concerned peasant reaches out to me. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” he asks. “Why were you running after that man? Did he steal something from you? Want me to head him off?”
“No,” I say. “He was very kind. I just wanted to know his name.”
The man harrumphs and ambles off. I play with the frayed edges of the basket as I think.
“Strange,” I whisper to myself. This far out, there aren’t a lot of houses.
When I peer over the edge of the hill, I notice the entrance to a dark cave. The home of the Wawel dragon.
People with sense wouldn’t dare go near it. But like I said before, I don’t have much sense, and the cave seems inviting somehow.
I look up at the sky. It’s barely noon. I have plenty of time before I have to get Wanda ready for the ball. I look around to make sure no one’s watching me before I slide down the rocky hillside. When I reach the bottom, I brush off my dress and set the basket down.
There are a large number of wooden barricades around the cave to prevent people from getting in, but they’re narrow enough for me to get around.
Maybe dragons don’t follow me. Maybe I follow dragons, I think.
I would be in a lot of trouble if Krakus discovered I was creeping around the cave. I’ve never been beaten before, as the king practically considers me one of his own, and as such is always kind to me, but I’m certain this could result in a few lashes. Not so much as punishment, but a deterrent, so I don’t go back again.
But the lure of the cave is stronger than fear of the whip. I have an unexplainable pull to see this dragon for myself, just once. The call is irresistible.
Just a peek inside. It won’t hurt anyone. I’m so small, the dragon won’t see me.
As I climb over the barricade I think to turn back, but I instantly shove the idea aside. Just a few steps in, to see if I can spot it. It’ll make a good story to tell Wanda, anyway.
When I’m over the barricade, I kick a rock by accident. It goes skittering into the cave. I gasp at the noise, but there isn’t a sound that comes after.
See? Nothing. I bet the dragon’s not even in there. Maybe he went for a walk.
I suppress a snort at the bad joke and regain my composure. I’m walking into a dragon’s cave. I should be quiet.
I summon my courage, take a deep breath, and enter the cave of the Wawel dragon.
Chapter Four
My feet take tiny, crunching footsteps into the cave. The sunlight is swallowed up behind me by darkness, and
I narrow my eyes as I walk further and further into the black.
I imagine the dragon is pretty far inward. If he’s as big as the rumors say, he wouldn’t be able to hide unless he was far underground.
It’s quiet. Maybe the dragon is sleeping. Or maybe it’s dead.
When I pass a cartful of gold still waiting near the entrance, my suspicion that the dragon is dead only heightens. After all, dragons horde gold. Why would he leave his treasure out here, where anyone could slip in and take it? Is he that confident that no one is brave enough to venture into the cave?
I wonder what I’m trying to accomplish by doing this. Do I want to brag to Wanda that I was bold enough to walk into a dragon’s lair? Why do I have a longing need to see the dragon curled up within his sanctuary, surrounded by his piles of gold and treasure?
I don’t know. I suppose I don’t know myself.
Perhaps I want to witness a dragon quiet and still, instead of deadly, fierce, and violent, as that’s how I’ve always seen them. There might be a side to them we don’t know. After my parents died by dragon fire, I’ve been desperate to see dragons as something more than monsters.
I want to know if my parents died due to the reaction of a scared animal, or if they were murdered by an intelligent creature with malicious intent.
When I’m far into the cave and daylight has nearly vanished behind me, I pause to listen. Nothing.
Then I hear a growling sound.
My limbs turn to ice. The growling sends rocks from the top of the cave crumbling downward. I jump aside so they don’t strike me upon the head, while the growling gets louder. Instinctively I turn and run, darting between the falling rocks as they crash around me.
I look over my shoulder and see there’s a glow emitting from the end of the cave. Flames lick up the sides of the walls and roar toward me. I pick up the pace, sprinting for the exit of the cave as the flames grow closer and closer. A smoky smell reaches my nose, telling me the flames have singed my skirt.
A cry of relief emerges from my lips when I leave the cave and reach sunlight. I can still hear the threatening growls of the dragon behind me, closer now. Clumsily, I climb over the barricade, grab the basket and run.