The Crying Dragon

Once upon a time, The Great Isaac, the Destroyer of Towns, Murderous Villain, and Spawn of Hell, had come down with a case of the sniffles. An uncomfortable itching sensation at the back of his throat was constantly eliciting gut-wrenching sneezes from him. Isaac was large for a dragon, his enormous stature making each sneeze somewhat comical. A powerful blast of flame broiled outward from his itchy sinuses each time and blew him backward a few feet. It had been perhaps a hundred years since he had last been ill, before his third molting. Just a pup really. But now he was a full size dragon with an impressive two hundred fifty-foot wingspan.

The people of Delwyn must think I’m letting them off easy. He thought. It had been almost a week now since he had left his mountainside Lair, and more than a month since he had done any serious terrorizing of the townsfolk. After all, he had a reputation to protect. As far as the First Circle was concerned, it was his duty to burn and pillage once in a while. Otherwise, those meat-bodies in the valley might get ideas of exploring the mountain and trying to rob him of his horde of treasure. And that wouldn’t do at all.

It was more likely that they would somehow try to hunt him, however. It was his body that was the greatest prize. So many potions and elixirs could be concocted only with the aid of dragon blood or bone that Isaac was slightly concerned that he might someday become the object of pursuit by dragon hunters. But he was in his prime. Just a hair over three hundred years. His step was still quick and light, and his wings were thick and strong. The scales that covered the vast majority of his enormous green hide were stronger than any man-made armor. Subsequently, he wasn’t really concerned about the feeble arrows and hurled catapult projectiles that the townsfolk always attempted to strike him with.

A-CHOOOOO! Another sneeze rocked him back on his taloned heels. The click of his claws on the stone floor concealed the approach of a young man. The knight drew his shield up in front of him just in time. He had managed to creep into the deepest chamber of the Lair undetected only to notice that the hideous creature he was seeking was sneezing so loudly and so powerfully that he had not even needed to be stealthy in his approach. At the last moment before he entered the tall doorway, however, the dragon turned toward him and cocked its head back as if preparing to strike. Instead of lashing out to smite the young man however, Isaac simply sneezed again and blew a wash of flaming snot over him. He had just enough time to throw up his shielded arm before the blast hit him.

Evidently, he hadn’t been on the worst end of it. The sneeze had been so powerful this time that it had knocked the big beast over backward. It fell unceremoniously on its rump and just stared at him with dizzy post-sneeze eyes. He raised his sword and addressed the terrifyingly magnificent creature with the posture that chivalrous knights of the day used to acknowledge worthy opponents. Isaac the Destroyer tilted his head slightly. Looking like nothing so much as a confused cat.

What’s this, now? Isaac thought. How did this whelp get in here? He was so intrigued by the young man that he did not immediately fry him with a blast of flame. Instead he simply stared at him, wondering what motives could possibly propel a lone man to enter his Lair. He had repelled several parties of five or ten men before, but never just one. Certainly the bearer of such cojones would be an interesting, if short lived, distraction. Amazingly, the tiny creature had raised his weapon and saluted him. Without pretense or delay, he ran straight at Isaac with the sword held high over his head.

Even then Isaac held back. He did not wish to kill this man quite yet. It had been a long time since he had had any company. The Pheonix that lived on the other side of the mountain was mad as a March hare, often ranting nonsense and screaming insults at trees. Occasionally, a herd of unicorns would come through, but they were often so stuck on themselves that they wouldn’t deign to speak with a dragon. The only other things he ever got to talk with on a regular basis were the other dragons of the First Circle. And they had a tendency to be a bit elitist for Isaac’s taste. Especially the Komodos. They were under the impression that they would be around forever. Hell, they could live barely a tenth of the lifespan of an average European Green. And the Oriental Dragons?… their behavior went without saying.

Regardless, Isaac had often wondered if there was something to these humans. They built beautiful (though pitifully easy to destroy) castles, and they had mastered the use of some of the more advanced tools of the day. They had learned to use wheels and pulleys and fire and water and wind and any other of a number of relatively complicated implements, so certainly they must be somewhat smarter and more interesting than the herds of brainless beasts that roamed the countryside waiting to become somebody’s dinner. Rather than spray the curious little man with his fire breath, he swept his huge tail out and knocked him flat.

The knight closed his eyes and waited for the heat that would signal his death. It didn’t come. His sword had been lost, and his shield only covered the top of his body. He pulled it up over his head. Still, no blast of fire breath descended. The suspense was terrifying him. Still holding his shield in front of him, he peeked over the lip of it and hazarded a glance into the face of Isaac the Murderous. Suddenly, he was seized from above and lifted swiftly into the air.

Isaac plucked the man from his prone position on the Lair floor. He held him closely in front of his eyes to examine his catch. They were such funny creatures, humans. A quarter the size of a horse, but many times smarter. They had been around for a while. Not nearly as long as dragons, but a while. He held the man between his clawed thumb and forefinger and looked closely at the features of his captive. In the time of Isaac’s grandfather, in fact, humans had lived in caves for the most part. They had come a long way in a short time. Isaac didn’t really believe that they were as annoying or troublesome as the First Circle thought, but still, he sort of enjoyed the exercise that he got from burning towns and pillaging castles.

He put the man to his nostrils and inhaled, taking in the scent of the brave little beast that had dared venture alone into the depths of his hideaway. He looked closely into the man’s face for the normal signs of fear or terror, but found none. Curious, and in a mischievously sporting mood, he opened his mouth, as if to devour the knight, and suspended the helpless man over his gaping jaws. He was certain that the prospect of death would frighten the man sufficiently to emit a cry of terror, but still he was silent.

The young knight soiled himself. He stared down into the gaping jaws of the dragon for what seemed like an eternity. He was so frightened that he found he could neither speak nor breathe. He prayed silently to the Saints to save him, but he knew his end had come.

Perplexed, Isaac put the man down on the floor and closed his mouth. So vexed was he by the prospect of a man he could not frighten, that he wanted to see exactly what this young upstart was all about.

“What brings you here?” Isaac said. He had never talked to a human before, and he found that now he had the chance, he really didn’t know how to go about doing it. The human looked so confused that Isaac couldn’t help thinking that he had perhaps stumbled upon the Lair while innocently exploring the mountain. He opted for the direct approach.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Aye.” Replied the man. “Thou art Isaac.”

“Indeed.”

“I am Sir Gabriel of Delwyn.” The man said stuffily, as if suddenly remembering that he was supposed to be acting dignified. “I have come for your tears.”

That’s a new one. Isaac thought. I’ve heard about people using my bones to heal people, my blood to kill people, my scales for weapons, my claws for luck, and my horns for aphrodesiacs, but nobody ever wanted my tears before. How curious.

“Pray tell, little man, what would my tears do for you? Make you live longer or turn you into a God between the sheets?”

The little man looked somewhat flustered to see Isaac laughing at him. He made a move to dart forward and retrieve his sword, but Isaac easily plucked it from the floor before he could reach it. He looked past it and again spoke to the man.

“What exactly did you intend to do with this?” He looked disdainfully at the tiny toy-like blade. It shimmered brightly, but snapped satisfyingly between his outstretched fingers like a well-made toothpick.

“Cut me down? I should think it would take a bit more than that. Besides, I have never cried in all of my years. Did you think pain would do it, or did you plan on simply cutting the eyes from my head?”

Faced with a flurry of unexpected questions, the man was totally unnerved. He tried to sputter out several answers at once and succeeded only in stammering out incomplete sentences. Isaac, who was merely curious and not trying to intentionally intimidate the man, grew impatient.

“Come now, my good man, if you don’t speak up I shall have to eat you.”

The young knight turned an alarming shade of green. Isaac frowned. He would have to be a bit more subtle.

“Let’s try this; nod for yes, shake your head for no. Understand?”

Sir Gabriel nodded.

“You are from Delwyn?”

Nod.

“You have come here alone?”

Nod.

“You want to collect my tears?”

Nod.

“You do realize that I’m a dragon, do you not?”

Gulp. Nod.

“And you still came.” It was more of a statement than a question, but the terrified knight still nodded.

“Oh come now, I’m not so terrifying as to strike you dumb, am I? I haven’t broiled you with my breath or eaten you alive have I?”

Sir Gabriel looked unsure if he wanted to give the negative response. Instead of shaking his head, he opened his mouth tentatively, as if to speak. The voice that had been formerly full of guts and pride was now somewhat lacking in momentum.

“M… My lady lies two days dead.” He stammered, as slowly and evenly as his rattled nerves would allow. “If I sprinkle the tears of a dragon onto her by sunset today, she may live again.”

Isaac frowned. He had never heard of such a thing.

“Are you quite sure? That is to say, has some witch doctor not bent your ear with false promises?”

At this Sir Gabriel seemed to brighten.

“I know it to be true, for the fate was mine only a day ago. My lady and I both died at the same time, but I was given the last of the available dragon tears in the city to revive me. There was not so much as a drop to spare for my lady. I came here to retrieve more and revive her.”

Isaac was taken aback, but pessimistic. He had heard such stories before, most of them being pure fiction. To help humans was generally a losing proposition. They lied through their teeth habitually, and those who didn’t were looking out exclusively for themselves. Isaac found it hard to believe that this man was doing this to save another, but nonetheless, he didn’t seem to be lying.

“Do you mean to tell me that you risked a life that you already lost to regain the life of someone else?”

Resigned, the young knight nodded. Isaac sensed no deception. He was, however, loath to think of what it would be like to cry. To weep, and throw one’s emotions into bodily reactions, was unacceptable behavior for a dragon. He had never heard of a dragon crying, much less cried himself. Most likely, the young knight had anticipated that the pain of sword point would cause him to cry. He was somewhat resentful of such an assumption. Even after having nearly died at the hands of a rival dragon, he had not even then shed so much as a single tear. Still, he felt somewhat sympathetic. Isaac had always ascribed to the premise that only dragons truly felt emotions as complex as love, lust, and passion. If humans felt anything similar to the love that dragons could feel, it would indeed be a sour predicament. He was intrigued.

“Tell me about her.” The dragon said, sitting back on his haunches. Suddenly, a sneeze blew out of his nose and hosed the man with flame. He barely had enough time to raise the shield and had to immediately remove it from his arm after the sneeze to douse the flames that stuck to it. Nervously, the man sat down on the floor.

“Oh, how rude of me,” Isaac said, honestly. He had forgotten that he had hoarded away a substantial number of bejeweled thrones. He plucked one of the nicer of them from a stack at the side of the cavern and presented it to the befuddled man. “Allow me.” Sir Gabriel sat gingerly, as if unsure whether or not it was appropriate.

“Now,” Isaac began again. “Tell me how did you both die?”

Sir Gabriel and Lady Victoria had been riding on the King’s reserve lands (as was the right of his knights) and happened to catch a pack of poachers in the act. The penalty for poaching the King’s deer and livestock was imprisonment in the dungeon for five years per offense. Naturally, rather than give themselves up, they attacked the couple. Sir Gabriel had fought them as bravely as could be expected of an outnumbered knight, but had eventually fallen under the stroke of a poacher’s blade.

While listening to the story, Isaac’s sense of honor was greatly affronted. The damnable villains, he thought, to beset an innocent couple to conceal their crimes. It was unforgivable. His blood began to heat within his veins with outrage and anger, the sense of justice within a dragon was as strong as any emotion on earth, and the man’s story touched his great heart.

The man undid his undershirt revealing a long jagged scar. It looked far too fresh for a man whose body had incurred it so recently. He continued to tell Isaac how he had lain helplessly wounded, near death, while the vile poachers had violated his lady before his eyes. She was a strong woman, but she had pled and cried and the unlucky knight was forced to listen to it all before they cut her throat. Rather than give him an equally quick retirement, they had left him to bleed to death several hours later.

Isaac the great felt a shudder through him that seemed to wrack his very bones. He had never heard anything so unjust in all his years, but instead of eliciting the emotion of sadness, it brought him to the edge of rage. Certainly if this man was capable of feeling the kind of love that dragons feel, he would have been driven to rage as well. Then Isaac remembered that they had killed him by then, and that he had died in the effort to defend his woman. The idea of death was so foreign to the dragon that it had a curiously sobering effect on him.

They had been found yesterday by someone sent by the stables to retrieve the horses. They were carried back swiftly to the medicinal chambers of the King and, since Gabriel was such a well-known and decorated knight, he was given the final drop of dragon tears that the medicine men possessed. The Lady Victoria, however, lay dead still. Gabriel, overcome with grief at her loss, had taken a harrowing journey up the forbidden mountain to travel to the Lair of Isaac the Destroyer to obtain his tears by any means necessary, knowing that to do so meant certain death.

When the knight finished his story, Isaac was struck silent. The sequence of events played over and again in his head. The human had been so distraught at the loss of his lady that he had risked his second lease on life to recover her. The honor of this human was considerable. Isaac was touched by the young knight’s commitment to his loved ones and his selflessness. A strange feeling came over him, one of disappointment and unfairness that could not be foreseeably corrected. A feeling of tragedy.

He hated the prospect of leaving an injustice un-redressed, but he couldn’t think of a way around the problem. Though he felt regret and unease at the man’s misfortune, it wasn’t sorrow. He was still not close to shedding a tear. He sighed pessimistically and spoke at last.

“Sir Gabriel, I am sorry for your loss. But I must tell you that I have experienced so much death and destruction by and of humans in my three hundred years, that I cannot shed a tear for the death of one lady. I personally have burned villages to the ground and killed people with my own claws and breath.” Gabriel’s face fell. This further disheartened Isaac. He tried a more positive tone.

“You are the first I have met that is worthy of honor, but honor and injustice alone are not so alien to me that they would strike sorrow into my heart. Besides, the sun has almost set. You wouldn’t make it back in time even if you had my tears in your possession at this instant.”

Gabriel looked down at the floor a moment longer. He then stood and walked out onto the stone floor and began to remove his armor. The heavy plates of metal clanked to the ground like peelings from a great iron citrus fruit. He stood, wearing only his trousers and a light shirt, and removed a long, thin-bladed knife from his belt. He looked at it for a moment and spoke a prayer so softly that Isaac had to strain to hear its words. Suddenly, the dragon realized what the young knight was about to do.

“Oh come now,” he began, not really believing that the knight was quite that bent about his woman. A sneeze caught him mid-sentence and the great dragon turned his mighty head to the side, spraying the southern wall (on which hung a rather drab collection of parchment scratchings by an eccentric fellow named Michaelangelo) with a blast of flame. As Sir Gabriel raised the blade purposefully, however, Isaac’s tone changed. The fool is actually going to do it!

“Wait!” Isaac barked sharply, but it was too late. The young knight plunged the blade deeply into his own heart. At the sound of the dragon’s urgent command, the young knight looked up a final time into the eyes of the great beast. Isaac was, for the first time in three centuries, caught in the gaze of another. Dragons have eyes that are far more alive and powerful than any other creature, and never can they be trapped or stared down by any other dragon or lesser animal. Yet, the dying gaze of the young knight caught Isaac and held him.

The man then simply slumped over.

I can’t believe he did it. Isaac thought, struck suddenly by the unfairness of it all. It wasn’t his fault in the first place. He had all the honor and courage that could have been expected, but there was nothing he could do. He had never before been faced with a situation in which there was no choice. It was inconceivable. And rather than just accept it, the knight had defied fate and taken his own life instead.

His company now gone, so to speak, Isaac let his temper run away with him. He couldn’t hold the back the rage he felt any longer. He overturned his pile of treasure, throwing his collection of thrones into a scattered mess, gold coins and silver bars flying in every direction. He blasted the walls of his Lair with deliberate spouts of flame and charred the tapestries from his walls. He let out a roar so loud that it shook the mountain, straining blindly against his unhappiness. The only truly interesting company he had ever gotten in his deep mountain hideaway was no more, and when he finally raged all of the anger from his bones, he slumped over in disappointment. The man remained as dead as ever.

Still, not a tear flowed from his ancient eyes. It was as if all the moisture in his body had left him. His stomach turned slightly at the injustice, and his eyes felt somewhat itchy. He picked the man’s body from the floor and exited his Lair. Spreading his giant wings, Isaac flew as down the mountain and into the castle courtyard. The townsfolk looked up at him in terror, but their fear turned slowly to curiosity as they realized that Isaac had no intention of flash-frying them.

He landed as lightly as possible on the ground in front of the entourage of the startled pallbearers of the Lady Victoria. Having decided that Sir Gabriel had failed his quest, they were preparing to bury her body. The sun was had nearly set behind the horizon, and they had evidently given up hope.

“Wait.” Isaac said. “Sir Gabriel has died by his own hand.” He hesitated, unsure exactly what he should say.

“He took his own life rather than live without the Lady Victoria.” The words sounded dull in even Isaac’s ears.

The King, an ally and supporter of Sir Gabriel, rushed forward and snatched the lifeless body of the knight from Isaac. The golden crown atop his head sat over the most distraught face that Isaac had ever seen on any creature. Without a word, the King cradled the body as if it had been his own son. Isaac watched in awestruck silence as the King placed the body of Sir Gabriel next to that of the Lady Victoria in the procession. They started again toward that cemetery. The dragon stepped in front of the pallbearers, blocking their path. He hovered over the dead couple a final time, looking into their youthful faces. His sniffle was gone, but he felt much worse now.

“Wait.” Isaac said, trying to find some word of condolence that would suffice. Instead, his throat locked out all sounds. It suddenly felt as though the guilt of these two unjust deaths was upon his chest, and pressed the air from his fiery lungs. The dryness of his eyes stung him like tiny fires. Instead of saying something poignant and heartfelt, however, he could only manage a squeak between his great green lips. Embarrassed, he snapped his jaw shut quickly, but the process had already begun. He had stifled the fist sob, but the second was audible, and by the third, he was practically bawling.

He closed his eyes, knowing that the entire town was witnessing his moment of shame. He didn’t care. He felt sorrow like he had never known. There was no way to escape the blame for what he had done, and he had to simply sit and bear the misfortune and injustice of it. He sobbed and cried for a full minute before he could compose himself enough to stop blubbering. His elongated face and nose felt raw and shamefully soggy between shudders and sniffs. Somehow, even though he was no longer heaving so heavily, he was still crying.

Confused, he opened his eyes. The sound that he had heard was the townsfolk cheering. He thought at first that they must have been mocking him. Anger flared up in his deepest depths, anger and shame, but disappeared instantly when he saw who led the cheer. Sir Gabriel and Lady Victoria, both very much alive, stood side-by-side, smiling up at him, drenched in his big dragon tears.

Later, after the sun had gone down and Isaac had returned to his Lair, he sat in very much the same position that he had that morning. He thought about what had happened that afternoon and frowned in spite of himself. What would the other dragons think? He thought of his newfound friends and closed his treacherous eyes. The smile on his face said, whatever.