My Dragon Partner is Othello. I chose neither him nor his name. He chose his Rider and his moniker for himself, as is their nature. Every Rider will need to determine his Dragon's chosen name in the way that works for them. Again, I remind you that the Dragon is tricky.
In my case, I was forced to tell stories for weeks on end, about wanderers, warriors, sorcerers, and village folk until Othello heard the word that pleased him most. He let me know what that word was by setting my eyebrows on fire. I'm sure you're familiar with the Tale of Othello and Spartacus. As soon as I got to the part where Othello leaped from the top of the tower to prove his love for the fair maiden Lilyput, out came the fire and off went my facial hair. He has been known as Othello ever since. Dragons choose a name for life, just as they choose their Rider.
For those of you who thought you would train with me and then walk out into a field of Dragons and choose one for yourself, let me disabuse you of that notion now. It is a fact of Dragon Rider life that we do not choose our partner; our partner chooses us. One might never get chosen, and that is okay. If you are not selected as a Rider-partner, all is not lost; you can of course move back to the village or join the merry bands of warriors wreaking havoc all over the countryside. Your life can still have meaning and consequence, even though you will never fly through clouds and slide down rainbows.
As I said, I have lost some facial hair as a consequence of my occupation. The good news is, it usually grows back. The bad news is, well, most people do not look good without eyebrows or with portions of their scalp singed. If you choose to be a Dragon Rider, you must know to the depths of your heart one truth about these beasts, and that leads me to my third point.
* * *
Dragons are the most dangerous creatures you will ever come into contact with in your entire life. Do not kid yourself that they aren't, and never become complacent. Compared to a Dragon, lions are day-old kittens, poisonous serpents are the crenn under a Dragon's talon, and angry mothers-in-marriage are innocent babes squalling in their box-beds. You absolutely must respect the Dragon and his capabilities, proclivities, and natural conditions if you have any hope of surviving even a single day as a Dragon Rider.
Dragons breathe fire. Yes, it's true; it's not just a scary story your mother told you to get to you come home when the sun went low in the sky. They like to snack on the sulfuric rock that lines the mouths of the active volcanoes in our world, and it gives them gas. Their intestinal fortitude is without equal in the animal kingdom, but it does have its weaknesses and drawbacks.
Dragons have two and sometimes three rows of razor-sharp teeth that need to be brushed weekly. A leafy tree branch is a good tool to keep on hand for this chore. If you can find spruce, even better as it gives them slightly less offensive breath odor for a few minutes after. Most Dragons can be trained to keep their mouths open and their sulfurous belches on hold as you climb around in there and do your business as a Dragon Keeper, but as I've already mentioned, they are tricky beasts. It behooves you to keep safety measures in place in the event you are inside the Dragon's mouth when he decides he's finished with the brushing of the teeth. My preferred method is a quick poke on the tongue with my hand-spear. Dragon-Riders should holster a hand-spear at all times. I recommend sleeping and bathing with it as well.
Dragons have talons capable of spearing anything from a baby to a wooled mammoth. They can lift any living creature and most conveyances high into the air and release them at will. They may look bulky and clumsy, yet they are anything but. Othello can curl his talon around a small fruit and bring it to his mouth without a thought. He can catch the edge of my clothing and halt my movement with nary a scratch to my skin ... or he can decide to take a little skin to prove a point. This leads me to the fourth item on my training list, one that most people have difficulty believing.
* * *
Dragons love practical jokes. They have a wicked sense of humor. And when I say wicked I mean it both literally and figuratively. Nothing makes a Dragon happier than to be laughing at a good prank; and if he's laughing, he's spurting either fire or copious amounts of smoke. You must be prepared for both the tricks he plays and the aftereffects of his good humor.
Dragons have been known to sneak up on their Riders from behind and blast them with a sulfurous odor so strong as to cause unconsciousness. Of course in this case, the Rider cannot escape the aftereffects of his partner's humor and often ends up not just with a headache but also a singed rear end.
You might think this would earn a Rider a day off to mend his affairs, but you would be wrong about that; a Rider never gets vacation — not without his partner in attendance, that is. And a vacation with a Dragon isn't what you'd expect. It's not soaring above the clouds of Antiguan and diving into the depths of its turquoise sea from a Dragon's back. It's keeping him out of trouble and out of sight. Dragons of our land tend to scare people when viewed in close proximity. Believe it or not, the majority of the world believes Dragons to be extinct, so when they show their faces, their claws, their brilliant opalescent-fire scales, people most often fly off in a panic.
Othello is especially fond of practical jokes. Just last week he had a merry old time at my expense. I'm not the kiss-and-tell type, so I'll just say I was with a person of the female persuasion, trying to enjoy a moment of solitude and privacy as Othello napped. I could have sworn I heard his even breathing and occasional snores, a sure sign he's indisposed; I'm still not sure what went wrong there — it's possible he was working in consort with his brother. Just as an aside, Dragons have been known to collude when it strikes them as advantageous. In any case, I was enjoying a few moments with the softer and gentler of our kind when out of nowhere the bloody carcass of a chicken dropped from the sky and landed on my head. My lady-love took one look at my new head-wear, screamed in fright, and ran from the mountain, never to be seen again.
You might believe as a Rider you'll have many occasions to enjoy the fame that comes with the badge and the attentions it brings, it would be unfair and unwise of me to allow you to continue under that illusion; this life is one of solitude. It is you and your partner-Dragon mostly alone, nearly all the time. And if it isn't ... if you do find yourself without your Dragon, I suggest you look up. He is most likely flying above you very silently, waiting for the best moment to scare you into losing your bladder.
Speaking of losing control of one's bodily functions, that reminds me of a very unpleasant part of this job. I'm sure that you're already aware of a Dragon's odors since we are close enough to Othello's lair and downwind, but until you actually live with one, and have to clean up after one, you can never truly appreciate the fact that Dragons have a very, shall we say, distinct odor.
* * *
Dragons stink more than the worst thing you could imagine.
Five-day-old socks worn in the boots of a warrior? I consider them equal to roses now.
An outhouse left full too long in the middle of summer? Candy pops flavored of fruits and berries. The dead body of an ox left in a molten puddle of pig slime? I'll take a second portion, please.
No, none of these odors bother me anymore, because I have lived with Othello, the smelliest beast that ever flew the skies, for going on ten years now. He farts, he burps, his digestion disagrees with him on a five-times-daily basis, and he's not potty trained. Yes, you heard that right. His cave is a nightmare, and I am the only man with a shovel who will go near him.
You can ask your Dragon to be more solicitous of your human presence. No one will stop you from trying. Some of them might even agree to be tidier, once in a while. But find me a single Dragon who always does what you ask him to do for your own good health and I'll sleep on a pile of Othello's dung for a month.
Dragons are not nice people, which makes perfect sense, because they are not human. Do not fall into the trap of anthropomorphism. It's tempting, especially when your Dragon's tail wraps around your leg and keeps you warm in winter and when he reads your mind and does the one thing you ne
ed done in order to be happy again. But it's a dangerous trap. Don't do it.
You're not a Dragon, you're a person. Your Dragon's not a person, he's a Dragon. A person will shower and shave the beard from his face and find nice things to scent his body and clothing with. A Dragon will grow talons that fill with his own rotten dung and he will eat live animals and sleep on their rotting remains and he will bathe in the blood of his enemies.
If it makes you feel any better, Othello thinks I smell horrible too. His kind believes that to be truly one with the Universe, you must be the odor of its most basic parts: earth, wind, fire, and water. I've suggested that he assimilate the water scent a bit more, but he never takes me seriously. Dragons think we joke all the time, so it's difficult to convince them we're ever serious.
Dragons will bathe, however, so if you're lucky enough to find a Dragon with an affinity for that element, bully for you. It's a true rarity. Of course, you'll find yourself sopping wet more often than dry, because the water is an excellent way for Dragons to cool down, but at least you won't smell of rotten polecat.
Speaking of Dragons cooling off, I cannot neglect my next point, that being the temperature ranges you will find within the species.
* * *
Most Dragons tend to run on the hotter side. I'm sure that's no mystery to you. Othello's miles away and yet here at the base of his cave, you find it quite warm, don't you? I see a few of you looking skyward. Not to worry. He's not due back for at least another four hours. He's left to search for his mate, a She-Dragon he has not yet met. More on that later. In any case, you're safe here now at this training program, I promise.
As I was saying, Dragons can run hot and then not so hot. They have a natural internal temperature that will be somewhat steady when they are underground, resting inside their chosen dwelling, but when they emerge, anything can happen.
I haven't yet figured it out, to be honest. In the winter, when you'd expect Othello to be cold to the touch, you'll often find snow melting several arms-length away from him. Other times, the condensation will cling to his scales as a frost. I've observed him eating and determined it's not his diet causing the fluctuations. It's not, as I've mentioned, the external temperatures either. Perhaps it's the magic that surrounds him and all Dragons, something I'm sure I will never understand.
More study in this area is needed obviously, however, for our purposes, it's important to know, in simple terms, that Dragons can be hot—hot enough to melt things you don't want melted. For that reason, you should not keep things with a propensity to liquefy anywhere near the Dragon's dwelling. That includes candles, of course, but also any non-natural fibers you may have acquired from someone who practices the dark arts or things held together with tree sap or hair of any kind. Your uniform and the relationship you have with your Dragon will keep most of your own hair safe, but anything made with animal hair or fibers is not destined to last long in the presence of a Dragon.
This means you must use torches to see in the dark and when inside your Dragon's dwelling, with your rags dipped in pitch or — in a pinch — the mucus from inside a Dragon's nostrils. Disgusting, yes, I agree, even though I'll admit to having used it many times over the past ten years. It's quite handy, clean-burning, and not as smelly as you'd imagine, although it does tend to smoke quite a bit.
Some of you might be tempted to use a crystal lamp for seeing at night and in the darkened halls and corridors of whatever mountain you're living inside, especially one of those new-fangled hand-held versions, but I must warn you that it's probably not a good idea. Crystals look like jewels and jewels are shiny, and these kinds of things are one of the many that you must sacrifice when you become a Rider. All of your worldly possessions will be winnowed down to the clothing on your back, your heat-resistant boots, your unadorned weapons, and a blanket to keep you warm when not at home. This is not because you are a monk or a priest and must give everything to the needy. Not at all. It's because of the Dragon. They might stink and eschew regular bathing, but they do love their jewelry. And Dragons are very greedy creatures.
* * *
Dragons are greedy. There's no point in trying to beat around the bush; we'll just tell it like it is.
My mother gave me an emerald necklace that was to be my future wife's marriage bounty. I haven't seen it since the day I met Othello. He has it hidden somewhere in his den, but I'm not going to go look for it. I like all my body parts attached in their proper spots.
Have you heard that crows seek out sparkling things and carry them to their nests? Dragons are like crows only much bigger, much hotter, and much more determined. Shine, sparkle, brilliance — they crave all these things, be they found in jewels, coins, or even crystals sewn onto a wedding dress. We have one of those, by the way. An actual wedding dress. Othello wears it over his right eye when he's in a certain mood. I believe he fancies himself quite dapper with it hanging there. It's brown with age and misuse, but the crystals still catch the light. When they become too dirty, Othello mopes until I cannot stand it any longer and offer to clean them off for him. That always earns me a decent meal and long lie-in the next day. Othello may be a beast, but he can be grateful when the spirit moves.
But I must warn you: never, ever touch a Dragon's personal treasure without his consent. His eyesight is without equal in the animal or human world. He knows exactly what he has and where he has put it. He knows the size of every ruby and the cut of every diamond, even when they are only big enough to fit in the crack of my fingernail. And joking around with his possessions, moving things here and there just to see if he'll notice, is not a practical joke I recommend playing on your partner. You'll notice the scar here on my left arm? I speak from experience.
Dragons also don't like sharing food. I'm not sure how they are about sharing with their mates, as Othello hasn't yet found his one true love, but I know for a fact that Othello hunts for himself and he hunts for me, but he does not hunt for us.
Usually, it's not a problem; I'm handy with a bow and arrow and the food around here is plentiful. But we have traveled afar where a bow does me no good and the hares are less abundant, and in those cases, I've had to wait for Othello to find me something suitable before I could eat.
I suppose food-greed is a good personality trait for a Dragon to have, considering his favorite meal is a musk ox. Have you ever tried a meal of musk ox? Suffice to say, it's not my favorite. If Othello got it into his thick head that we were to start sharing, I'd have to accustom my stomach to such things, and for that reason I'm grateful he's not a good sharer.
Not that this has anything to do with his greed, but I have a theory about Dragons. I believe that a property found in the musk ox's meat is the reason Dragons can fly so fast, but I've no scientific evidence to back me up on that. All I know is that after he's eaten a particularly stout meal of this smelly beast, we fly like the wind, which leads me to a point I know you've all been waiting to hear about: a Dragon's speed.
* * *
Believe me or not, I don't care, but I'm going to tell you this amazing fact about Dragons: they can break the barrier of time, they fly so fast. Don't frown at me! It's true! I've experienced it for myself, literally on Dragonback.
They can soar through the sky, from altitudes of air so thin you can hardly take a breath to a spot just inches from the ground, plummeting to the earth with wings tucked into their sides. And just at the very last moment, when you're certain you will die being pulverized into the stones near your toes, they will arch their necks and backs, and pull up and rise into the sky so fast you lose your sight and everything goes black and you must hold onto your leather rigging straps or you will surely fall and die.
Somewhere along this harrowing trip you reach a point in your flight that something incredible happens. Time folds or refuses to go forward for just a moment. You are going too fast for the world to keep up with you. And then you'll hear it. A loud BOOM. The sign that you've left behind the regular world and all its people for a half o
f a half of a second. It's nothing short of exhilarating.
The loud explosion is not so evident when on the Dragon, but people on the ground will hear it and they will tell you about it later. They'll also probably tell you that they thought the entire village was about to be turned to burnt and crispy bits, so it's generally not mentioned in an admiring tone of voice. But still, it's an amazing, wonderful thing that only a Dragon can do. No horse, no ox, no donkey, no large cat, no camel, no four- or two-legged beast can even dream of achieving this height, this skill, this talent, this utter magical state of being.
But even so, I don't recommend you accompany your Dragon on these speed-trips nor do I think it's a good idea to encourage it. Simply put, it's not good public relations for either the Dragon or you. Villagers tend to frown on fire-breathing, beastly activity happening above their heads, even when it is magnificent. A mere hint of an unhappy dragon has them running about with torches and incendiary devices and threats of blowing up mountains, and a speedy Dragon does tend to look a bit cranky. It's better that they live in ignorance of the Dragon's true greatness. Try it once if you must, if possible over an unpopulated area, and then never do it again. That is my sound advice.
Also, just so you know, you will most likely lose your water and any stomach contents you may be in possession of during this type of flight, because there is no way to protect oneself from the forces that press into a Rider as the Dragon takes his inside turns. I call them D-Forces for lack of a better word.
The Dragon Chronicles Page 2