Benjamin turned. “Is this the place?”
He nodded.
“Okay,” Benjamin said. “I guess we wait until you’ve sobered up and then go kill the dragon.”
Arak shook his head and furrowed his eyebrows. He spoke, and each word sounded like it took too much concentration. “I won’t – will not – be – be – sober. Go and – do — kill it alone.”
Benjamin nodded. “Okay, Arak,” he said. “Thank you for everything.”
“Come – back to – me – lad.”
Benjamin nodded and made his way toward the stream. A crow circled overhead as Benjamin bent down and sipped water. It was cold and fresh in his mouth. He took out his sword and worked it with a whetstone. When that was done he sheathed it and stood, and looked up at the mountain.
There was no entrance that he could see, so he followed the foothills around until he came to a spot where he could ascend. It was more gradual than the rest of the mountain, but still quite steep. His legs strained with each step, but the journey had made him hard. Soon he was half way up and making good progress, and didn’t think he’d need to rest until he got to the top.
When he was nearly at the top he came upon a man and a woman. They were staring down at a baby. “We should chuck it off the mountain,” the man said.
“Yes,” the woman said. “I hate the ugly little thing. I wish that it had died in my belly. Let’s not waste the energy of chucking it off the mountain. Let’s just stomp on it.”
“You do it then,” the man said. “I don’t want to get my boot all bloody.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Benjamin said.
The couple turned. A tattered rag was all the woman wore, and she was so thin that Benjamin could see her bones. She receded into the background and watched passively as the man drew two swords and pointed one at Benjamin. “Get away from us,” he said. “We never wanted you and we hate you, and that’s why we put you in the hospital.”
“Yes,” the woman said. “We don’t love you, Benjamin.”
The man said, “Stay here, you worthless parasite. Stay here and save us all some hassle.”
Benjamin let out a battle cry and surged forward. The man held up his swords defensively, and Benjamin rained down years’ worth of aggression and repression and hate. The man struggled to parry the blows, and Benjamin nicked his arm, causing him to drop a sword. He cursed and stepped backwards.
“Kill him,” the woman said. “Kill him now.”
Two fingers of sunlight reached down from the heavens. Benjamin tilted his sword, catching the light and aiming it into the man’s eyes. He closed them reflexively, and Benjamin jumped forward and slid his sword into his ribcage. There was a squelch and a crack as he twisted the blade and drew it out. The man dropped to the ground.
The woman screamed and tried to run. Benjamin picked up the man’s sword, measured its weight, and threw it at her. It spun through the air and struck her in the lower leg. She screamed and fell. Benjamin walked over to her, pulled the sword from her leg, and stabbed her in the heart. Her eyes went dead, and Benjamin smiled.
He knelt down next to the baby. It was sniveling and smiled up at Benjamin. He wanted to kill it, to pre-empt its misery, but he wanted more to give it a chance. If it could be happy, his life may have had meaning.
He picked it up and cradled it close to him, then returned to Arak. He was snoring softly. Benjamin awoke him with a boot to the gut and handed him the child. “Look after him,” he said.
Arak nodded sleepily. “Have you killed the dragon yet?”
“No,” Benjamin said, “but I will.”
“I meant what I said,” Arak said. “Come back to me.”
“I will.”
~~~~~
Benjamin sat propped up in bed. The doctor fired questions at him, and Benjamin answered them all in a bored stupor. A man came and knocked on the door, and the doctor left and conversed with him in whispers, then came back with a grave look on his face.
He sat on the side of the bed and placed his hand on Benjamin’s arm. It was thundering outside and rain tapped against the window rhythmically. The whole building shook with a each thunderous roar, and Benjamin could hear some girls squealing and a baby crying.
“I don’t know how to say this,” the doctor said. “Your parents are dead.”
After the doctor left, Benjamin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, and in the end he did both. He curled up on his bed with his knees to his chest and sobbed and then laughed, and then sobbed some more until he fell asleep.
When he awoke he walked around aimlessly for a few minutes before sitting at his desk and staring down at Don Quixote. The book seemed awfully strange, but in its strangeness it was inspiring. Benjamin wished that he could be as bravely deluded as Don Quixote and give his life meaning, even if that meaning was a construct of his imagination, and ultimately meaningless.
The days became drearier as they passed, and each time Benjamin took out the razorblade the urge grew stronger. He didn’t take his life, however. He couldn’t, not yet. Something was keeping him here. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that to end his existence now would be unwise.
He might yet have meaning, and to rob himself of that chance, however whimsical, would be an injustice.
~~~~~
Benjamin could smell Arak’s whisky in his clothes. Spending so much time with the man, he had gotten used to the reek, but now that he was away from him, atop the mountain and at the entrance of the dragon’s lair, he once again remembered how disgusting the smell was. He shook his head and cleared it from his mind. He had more important things to worry about. He‘d arrived.
The stars stared down from a cloudless sky, a million diamonds glistening from a beach of blackness, and the wind whipped at him strongly, fluttering his hair. The dragon’s entrance, which was a simple oval, shone orange and emanated heat.
Benjamin peeked in and saw the beast. It was like nothing he had ever seen. He had heard legends of dragons before, and they had always been depicted as reptilian creatures with serpentine necks and snake-eyes.
This monster was nothing of the sort. It was as tall as four men, and as Benjamin watched it stretch out its wings, he saw that it was as wide as two-score men. It was wreathed in shadow, and its black skin exuded a smoky vapor that hissed in the air. Its eyes were orange pits of fire and the only chromatic thing about it. Its tongue was a black whip and its teeth were black-grey swords, rows and rows of them descending into its black maw.
Benjamin wished that Arak was here with him. He wondered how he was going to slay such a beast. He saw that the orange light was coming from a gargantuan fire that seared in the center of the cavern. The dragon lay down next to it, resting its shadowy head on its shadowy paws and wrapping its shadowy tail around its shadowy body.
Benjamin sat down outside the entrance and stared up at the sky. He was overcome with the pointlessness of the endeavor. The infinite grandeur of the universe dawned upon him in a wave of realization. He could not see the point. He was just a single boy with a single cause fighting a single beast, and he thought that it was a horrid yet true thing that it would achieve nothing; but then he remembered something else
He remembered how he had felt when he’d first embarked on this trip. He remembered the indiscernible warmth of meaning and the incomprehensible drive. The dragon had to die. He did not know why, nor why it seemed so important, but he knew that he would feel incomplete if it was allowed to live. It was as if the beast were taking something from him, and in the killing of it he would reclaim what was rightfully his. It was no longer just an animal, but a symbol of everything he wanted to be, even though he wasn’t sure exactly what that was. Benjamin wanted to belong; he didn’t know where, but for some reason he knew that the dragon was the key.
He stood up, drew his sword, and charged into the cavern while his mind was pure. The dragon opened its eyes and Benjamin met its orange stare with his sword, jumping at it and driving with all his
strength. The dragon hissed and slithered backwards, and Benjamin fell short.
“I have to kill you,” Benjamin said. “I have to.”
The dragon stared at Benjamin dumbly for a few seconds and then flapped its shadowy wings and ascended into the darkness above. Its fiery eyes burnt out, and Benjamin could feel beads of sweat dripping down his back, caking his arms and legs. The dragon hissed loudly and then dived at the earth, aiming its head at Benjamin.
Benjamin screamed and fell to the side. The dragon screeched out shrilly as it pulled short and flew back into the darkness. In the air, where it had nearly hit the ground, black smoke lingered, hovering for a few moments before dissipating. The dragon roared out. Benjamin clutched his sword, wondering what to do. It dived twice more and nearly hit Benjamin before he knew that he needed a plan.
He looked around frantically. The fire in the middle threw sparks and ash and heat into the air, and when Benjamin squinted past it he saw a sheet-covered mound. He made towards it, impulsively placing his life in a fool’s hope, and threw back the sheet. A pile of corpses stared back at him, and the eyeless skulls were grinning. Benjamin rooted through the pile, through the clothes and flesh and weapons, until he found what he was looking for, and then the dragon screeched and came at him.
Benjamin nocked an arrow and fired at the beast. The arrow flew straight and fast, but missed its mark. The dragon reared and circled above, and Benjamin fired another arrow, and another. The first one missed, but the second one hit it in the wing, and the dragon screamed out in agony. Its voice was humanlike as it flapped its wings, the wounded one causing it to moan and whine.
It hovered in the air for a few seconds. Its screams getting louder and more furious, and Benjamin knew that he had angered it. He nocked and aimed another arrow, and let it fly. It went up and up, hitting the dragon in the neck. It quivered and let out a guttural cry, and then began to fall.
As it fell it seethed black smoke. The smoke filled the air and travelled upward through the top. As the smoke cloud got bigger, the dragon got smaller. First its tail went, disappearing into nothingness, and then its wings and its head, and finally its body. When it landed it was no longer a dragon. It was nothing but a pile of ash.
Benjamin decided to examine where it had landed anyway, just to be sure. Its smell was pungent and Benjamin had to cover his nose.
He sifted through the ash. It was a big pile, and it was a while before he found it, but when he did he said it aloud, as if to make it seem more real.
“It’s a razorblade.”
~~~~~
Benjamin held the razorblade in his hand. The room was dark, except for a few fragments of moonlight that sifted in through the blinds. The building was deathly quiet, but as Benjamin stood there, staring down at the blade, footsteps made their way down the hall.
It started as a quiet tapping, and then became a loud patter that permeated the room. Soon Benjamin could hear a voice, and he was sure that it was coming for him. He turned and jumped onto his bed, and held the razorblade to his wrist. He needed to do it now, before the doctors found it and robbed him of his escape. He pressed down and there was no pain, only the promise of release. Then the door flew open.
Electric yellow light exploded into the room and for a second Benjamin was blinded, and then he saw the man. He was broad and his smile was eloquent of intoxication. He stumbled into the room, falling and then getting back up, and then falling again. He sat on the floor, pulled out a bottle of whisky from a brown paper-bag, and took a long pull.
He stood, then sat on a chair next to Benjamin’s bed. He wore a hospital gown. Benjamin still held the blade to his wrist.
“What – are you – doing?” the man said.
Benjamin felt an immediate affection for the man, and yet he couldn’t say why. His face was ordinary, if rather silly with drink, and as far as he knew they had never met; even so, Benjamin knew that he would place his life in this man’s control. He was the arbiter. That much Benjamin knew.
“Should I do it?” Benjamin said.
“You have – completed – your – quest,” the man said, “and you – you — promised to come back to me. Do it, so we – so we – can be reunited. I promise to – be – be – better. When you come – come back we will – raise that child to – be – be – happy.” His head fell forward and he dropped the whisky bottle. He presently began to snore loudly, and Benjamin was left with his confusing advice.
In the end he didn’t know what made him to do it. It could have been the man’s advice or the moon or a whim or a hope, but he drew the razorblade across his wrist.
His sheets were red when the doctors found him, and his eyelids drooped and then finally closed.
~~~~~
Benjamin dropped the razorblade and turned his back on it. He felt free. He knew that he had just been tested and that he could have failed and died today, but he hadn’t. His shoulders were lighter as he descended the mountain.
The sun was rising over the horizon, a thin slice of yellow that lit up the world. A squirrel nibbled on a nut and watched Benjamin with wide eyes. Benjamin threw a rock at it and laughed as it ran away.
He still didn’t fully understand the meaning of the journey or the dragon or his part in it, but he knew that he felt like something had been achieved. He felt like, despite his ignorance, he had created something for himself instead of waiting for something to happen. He had done some good and yet he didn’t know what that good was.
As he neared where he had left Arak and the child he saw a plume of smoke rising over the trees. A flock of birds flying toward it squawked and edged around the smoke, and when he got even closer he heard the crackling of flames and a baby crying.
“Shh now,” Arak was said as Benjamin rounded the corner. Arak had the child in his arms and was staring down at it with loving eyes. “It’ll be okay. It’s just fire.”
Benjamin slumped down with exhaustion and dropped his sword. “I did it,” he said. “I killed the dragon.”
The baby coughed and Arak put it on his shoulder and tapped its back until it stopped. He looked at Benjamin and said, “What about the razorblade?”
“I left it in the ash,” Benjamin said. “How did you know about that?”
Arak shrugged. “Dragons show us our deepest and most depraved desires,” he said. “For some reason I thought that was yours.”
Benjamin thought that made sense. The razorblade spoke to a part of him that he didn’t know he had, and in the refusal of it he had killed it before it’d had a chance to grow.
“Anyway,” Arak said. “I’m glad you came back to us.”
“Me too.”
Arak handed Benjamin the child and collected his things. As he gazed down at its little face, Benjamin promised himself to make this child’s life happy and hopeful and full of memories that he would cherish and not ignore. He cuddled it close and kissed its cheek, and looked at Arak and said, “What’s with the fire?”
The blaze was roaring now. It reminded Benjamin of the dragon’s lair. Arak smiled. “I burned all my whisky,” he said. “From here on out it’s just water.”
Benjamin smiled. “What do we do now?” he said.
Arak hefted his battle-axe onto his back and returned Benjamin’s smile. “We live, boy,” he said. “We live.”
Nathan James is an English literature student who spends much of his time in his own head. When he comes out you can find him at lectures and seminars and pubs and bars. His favorite color is red, his brother’s mop-like hair is a constant source of amusement to him, and Harry Ward is the poshest person he knows. He sometimes blogs at: https://nathanjames19.wordpress.com/
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Loss and Understanding
by Jamie Lackey; published December 13, 2013
Prudence slammed into cold metal, and her nose broke with a sharp crack. Pain flashed through her and faded.
Mathematical formulas spun in her vision like cogs in a watch that had been w
ound too tight. They shimmered in a delicate rainbow of colors, and they whispered their secrets. Prudence could almost comprehend them.
She tasted blood.
The formulas still spun, but their whispers faded.
Prudence couldn't move, and she couldn't feel anything. Had she been paralyzed somehow? She tried to remember what she'd been doing, but the memories felt thin and slippery, like crumpled waxed paper.
She couldn't tell if she was breathing. Terror started to pull at the edges of her mind.
The numbers spun faster in a beautiful, intricate dance.
Prudence tried to scream.
Voices drifted to her, along with the scent of clean, oiled metal. The words were unfamiliar, but something in her mind offered smooth translation.
What was happening to her?
"Looks like this one's had some kind of malfunction."
"Damn turbulence. I hate traveling in atmosphere."
In atmosphere? Did that mean that they sometimes traveled outside it?
The first voice sighed. "It's not so bad. I prefer turbulence to vacuum."
Was she trapped in some kind of space ship? Kidnapped by extraterrestrials?
Impossible.
Prudence heard a pneumatic hiss, and white light washed out the still-swirling formulas. Two dark figures entered her field of vision. Their horrifyingly alien forms were partially obscured by the numbers, but Prudence saw enough to be sure she'd gone mad.
One was a dark, slimy purple blob with six eyes on long stalks and a mouth surrounded by waving cilia. The other loomed over it, a giant, bipedal butterfly, complete with shimmering wings and proboscis. They both wore simple gray coveralls and intricate tool belts. Their almost familiar outfits jarred with their alien forms.
Prudence wanted to scream, to run as far away as her legs would take her. She couldn't even close her eyes.
"I think she's aware of us," Blob said.
"Impossible," Butterfly snapped. It prodded Prudence with a spiny foreleg. She felt nothing. She tried to look down at her body, to reassure herself it was still there. She couldn't. "It looks normal to me. No anomalous reactions."
Fiction Vortex - December 2013 Page 4