by K. Dzr
Chapter Five
D E M E T R I U S V S T H E D R A G O N
“They’re back, they’re back!” a little boy shouted. Mothers, elders, children, wives and all those left behind burst from their homes and abandoned their chore. They flocked toward the returning heroes.
The noise stilled Ezria’s hands above the brewing pot of stew; she too, hurried to the door. She could barely see the returning men engulfed by the swarm of people. She saw the people jumping for joy and reaching for their returned men. What she did not see was the smile of her husband or the men waving their swords in victory. She wrung her hands, her eyes wandered over to her son. Seemingly, he was the only child not running and shouting for his father.
“Demetrius, aren’t you going to look for your father?” She asked.
“He’s not coming.” Demetrius slammed his farming tool to the ground and stormed back into the hut.
“I pray you are wrong.” she muttered to herself.
“Ezria,” Jerith shouted over the chatter as he approached her. “Please, will you help these two? They are severely injured.”
“Of course, Jerith, bring them in.” She helped him guide Josef into their home and lay him on the floor.
“Demetrius, get some clean water and blankets. Demetrius?”
“Yes, Mother. I’m going.”
“Ezria,” Jerith searched for the words. “Nehemiah saved Josef’s life. He rescued Bakuk from the dragon’s claws, and he fought bravely, not showing fear for even an instant…”
Ezria couldn’t keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks, nor did she bother trying to hide them. She continued examining Josef as she cried.
“He delivered powerful, strategic attacks upon the dragon. We thought for sure he killed him, but Netiro was too strong. I am so sorry. All of Nephram will mourn his passing. He wanted me to tell you he loved you and Demetrius, and that he did his best. He wanted you to know he was proud of you both, and for me to give this to Demetrius.”
Demetrius returned with the water and blankets, and placed them on the floor next to his mother. Jerith stood and unsheathed the sword.
“You take care of the farm and take care of your mother now. Your father was very proud of you.” He handed Demetrius the sword.
He nodded as he looked the sword over in his hand for a moment. He dropped it back into its sheath, turned and walked back into his room.
“I’m so sorry Ezria. If you need me I won’t be far.”
“Here, let me take a look at your arm.” She wiped her eyes and grabbed a clean cloth.
“It will heal.” Jerith said. Blood seeped over her hands as Ezria removed the torn strips of clothing he used as a bandage.
“You’re fortunate you didn’t bleed to death, Jerith. Here, sit down and keep pressure on it,” she handed him the cloth and placed his good hand over the wound. “I’ve got to find a way stop that bleeding. Curse that dragon!” she cleaned her hands and quickly went to her herbs. “If I can stop the bleeding and keep the infection out of it, you’ll probably be fine. I could even do something about the pain. But I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to use that arm again, Jerith.”
She worked quickly, despite the tears and shaking hands, to create a paste for Jerith and Josef. She suddenly stopped and dropped her mortar.
“Did Bakuk make it?”
Jerith slowly shook his head.
“Oh, poor Sara,” she shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “And all those children. What will she do?”
“Bakuk called us all Brother and Sister. We won’t let our little nieces and nephews go hungry, Ezria,” he reassured her, still clutching his arm.
“You’re right, Jerith. We’ll take care of each other,” she nodded and gathered her composure. “We always do.”
While she tended to Josef and the others, Demetrius stayed in his room.
As the day went on, more men were brought into Ezria’s home. Sara worked by her side to make sure the many injuries were taken care of. More women came to make medicine under Ezria’s direction. They cleaned utensils and cloths or prepared food; anything they could do to help their husbands, brothers and sons. The children brought fresh water and picked herbs for the medicine. The able bodied men worked to bury the deceased. The elders and holy men offered prayers and comfort to heart-broken families. Nephram was long accustomed to hard times and, as Jerith promised, they took care of one another.
As the sun ducked behind the western mountains, a gargled roar echoed over the village.
“You think you have won?” the dragon’s voice was little more than a hiss as he flew over the village. “You send your strongest to defeat me in my sleep like cowards, yet here I am! I am weakened true, but know this; you shall pay for your arrogance and foolishness.”
For the first time since the news of his father’s death, Demetrius went outside to hear the dragon’s rants.
“It is far from over humans. But remember, you brought this on yourselves.” Netiro swooped to fill his jaws with a horse from the field. The horse died before it realized it was attacked, and was swallowed in two massive chomps.
Jerith glared at Netiro as the dragon turned, licking his lips, to fly away.
“We were so close.”
“Mother, I promise you I will return.” Demetrius looked up into her eyes and squeezed her arm. She cocked her head, puzzled. Before she could ask what he meant, he released her and grabbed his fathers’ sword. He jumped onto a mule and took off after Netiro before she could stop him.
“Demetrius! No!” Ezria ran after her son, but she was no match for the mule.
Demetrius ignored his mother’s pleas. He kicked the mule harder, urging it to run faster. When he realized he’d never catch up to Netiro, he decided to bring the dragon to him.
“Fall, fall, fall, fall.” Demetrius chanted. He gripped the mule with one hand and out-stretched the other.
Jerith ran after Demetrius as well. He caught up with Ezria, grabbed her and held her tightly.
“No! Let me go!” she screamed and struggled against his grasp.
“You cannot go after him Ezria.” Jerith held her tightly.
Netiro’s body suddenly felt as though made of stone; his wings rigid, unable to move. He plummeted from the sky like a falling star. Shock waves rumbled across the land, uprooting plants, sending dust swirling in the air, and causing the galloping mule to tumble to the ground.
Villagers stumbled out of hiding to see what had caused the thunderous vibrations. Demetrius ran toward the fallen dragon, sword in hand. The villagers picked up any tools and weapons they could find and ran to where another battle was about to take place.
“Magic? Now you think you can defeat me? A child?” He roared and blew fire at Demetrius. The effort caused a huge gush of blood to spew from the wound in his neck.
“No.” The boy calmly put up his hand.
An invisible wall stood between the weakened blaze and Demetrius’ small body. Netiro, stunned by the boy’s ability, tried to recall the last time he encountered anyone who possessed magic. His shocked expression quickly returned to the familiar face of hateful, menacing rage. Netiro, aware of his critical injury, realized he was in a very precarious position. However, he lived long enough to know not to ever give up. He gathered what strength he could muster, and glared his remaining good eye at Demetrius.
“So you know a few magic tricks. I will destroy you like all those before you who were foolish enough to oppose me.”
Jerith struggled to keep his hold on the boy’s hysterical mother with his one good arm.
“Ezria, wait. Did you see that? He stopped the dragon’s fire!”
“I have to save Demetrius!” she screamed. “Let me go!”
Demetrius closed his eyes and waved his outstretched arms before him.
“Help me,” he whispered. And with that plea; every rock, stick, stone and pebble lifted from the ground. He swung his arms to point at Netiro and the earthen debr
is followed, pelting the dragon with the force of a typhoon. Netiro tried to fight off the attack, but with very little effect. The villagers watched in awe as the beast began to sink below the ground. Netiro squinted up through his one dirt-filled eye and realized that this young boy had commanded the earth to swallow him. To struggle was useless. As Netiro sank, vines came to life and entwined him. Within moments, he was tightly bound, and up to his wings in mud. He snorted and made a weak effort to blow fire on Demetrius. The boy stepped forward, folded his arms across his chest, and stood over the helpless bleeding dragon.
Cheering and applauding, the villagers ran to Demetrius. Still apprehensive, most kept their distance from the dragon. Ezria broke free from Jerith, and raced to her son. She grabbed him and hugged him tightly.
“Don’t be afraid, he can’t hurt you anymore,” he calmly said to her.
“Demetrius, I was so afraid for you! I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, too!” Ezria sobbed with relief.
“Don’t worry Mother, I understand now.”
“Understand what?” she asked puzzled.
“Everything.”
“Now what?” an elderly man asked.
“I know what!” Elijah picked up a stick and began beating Netiro with it. Others excitedly joined in with rocks, stones, daggers; anything they could find. They were ecstatic to finally have an opportunity to reap revenge on this creature that tormented their village for more years than anyone even knew. The women cried as they beat the dragon with their sticks. For many, this beast was the reason they became widows last night. Netiro growled and hissed helplessly, as he was once again plummeted by an assortment of weapons. There was not one scale on his body that wasn’t bleeding. Even the children came forward to kick him and curse at him. Just like Demetrius, many of them lost their fathers during the battle.
Demetrius stood back and watched for a few moments. He thought it was only fair to allow these people to have their revenge on Netiro. But he didn’t want him killed.
“Enough!” he shouted. “Step back! All of you!”
Gradually the people fell back. Yamin slowly pushed his way through the crowd. He said nothing, but walked right up to Netiro and sliced three claws from one of his mud-crusted wings. The dragon screeched through clenched teeth and struggled in vain to pull free. Demetrius approached the dragon, weaving through the parting crowd to stand next to Yamin.
“What are you doing Demetrius?” Jerith took his arm to hold him back. He stopped and they exchanged looks for a brief moment.
“I know what I am doing. Just stand back, please.” Jerith slowly nodded and released his hold on the boy’s arm.
“Now, how do you like it?” Demetrius glared down at the dragon. Netiro returned his hateful stare.
“How do you like being attacked while you’re defenseless? You’ve killed our families, taken our food, our freedom, destroyed our homes, and made us live in fear! I, we, have every right to kill you!” He unsheathed his father’s sword. He held it high above his head to make sure that the dragon and all the villagers saw it. Then he lowered the sword, his eyes fixed on the stains of blood.
“Look familiar? My father nearly killed you with this, just this morning. I can finish the job. I can take my time and make you suffer, or I can do it quickly and be through with you once and for all. But the only way to teach compassion is to show it. Here’s what I am going to do. I will free you, but…”
He heard mumbles and moans of disbelief from the crowd behind him. He ignored them and continued.
“…But you must leave here and never return. You will not just move on to another helpless village, you will hunt for your own food. You will not harm or torment people in any way. If you do, I will know, and I will come after you. I will hunt you down and kill you. Do not doubt me, Dragon.”
Netiro stared up at the boy. He couldn’t believe he was going to set him free. He thought surely he’d be killed right here in this mud. With a single wave of his father’s sword, Demetrius released the vines that bound the dragon.
“No!” The people screamed and scattered in terror.
Demetrius kept his eyes on the dragon, ready to make a fast kill if necessary. Netiro struggled to free himself from the thick mud that covered his wings and body. Once free, he glowered at the fleeing crowd. Then his eye finally met Demetrius.
“Everyone deserves a second chance, Dragon. I spared your life this time. If there is a next time, I won’t be so merciful. GO! FLY AWAY NOW!”
Netiro flapped his encrusted wings and, to his surprise, the mud seemed to just melt away. He gave one last hateful glance at Demetrius before taking flight, disappearing in a billow of smoke.
“Is he gone?”
“Is it really over?”
“I can’t believe it.”
Demetrius turned to villagers. They slowly emerged from their hiding places, watching the skies.
“He won’t be back. I promise.”
Jerith was the first to come forward. He hugged the boy roughly.
“That’s my boy! You did the right thing!” He slapped him hard on the back, the same way Demetrius seen him do to his father a hundred times. Demetrius winced at the sting. That was something he’d have to get used to he figured, now that he was the man of his family. He turned to his mother and gave her a big hug. She was crying, just as he knew she would be.
“Demetrius, I am so proud of you. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. If only I listened to you earlier, perhaps your father…”
“No, Mother. You couldn’t have known. All is as it should be.”