The Golden Dragon's Princess

In the evenings, around the hearths of home, we teach the rules by which we share this world with the brethren through story. Tales of lovers separated by misfortune, the vain punished with disfigurement, of knights enchanted into forever sleep, and of princesses locked into towers.

We seek out Seers to foretell the future, and mages to bespell swords, but are wary of the Fae with their costly altruism and deceptive beauty, the mischief of household imps, and sirens who sing ship to wreckage.

Most of all, we fear the dragons, beasts of mighty wings and magical power, who demand virgin sacrifice, and turn the bravest knight to ash.

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My foot slipped on a piece of armour, unseen beneath the ash and dirt. The movement spilled delicate white finger bones out onto the path, reminding me of the children’s game. But this was not a night or place for games.

The evening air was sharp. Winter was setting in, and the tips of the mountain range were capped white. There was no snow here, but the air held the bite and scent of it, where one could detect anything at all above the stink of rotting flesh, sulphur, and char.

I had overcome my horror of bones and corpses within a few minutes of setting my feet to this path. There was an abundance of them upon it, in varying states of decay - knights, and other fortune seekers, who had come in pursuit of the riches that lay above and the glory of slaying a dragon.

I suspected that the ash and dust that coated my boots, the hem of my skirts and my cloak, had once been men, and that they had been the lucky ones, incinerated under dragon flame. These others, either they had caught the tail of the flame and had died of their wounds, or some other ill had befallen them. I did not want to scrutinize them too closely in order to determine how they had died.

The dragon had left them on the path on purpose - warning to those who came this way. Was I foolhardy to ignore the warning? I wondered. I would like to think it bravery that motivated my climb up the steep path, but in truth it was desperation.

Nearer to the mouth of the cave, the bodies thinned. Not so many made it this far, I decided, or the dragon turned the ones who did to ash rather than have them rot within smelling distance of his home. The path dipped and turned, pressing narrowly against the rocky cliff, and dropping away steeply below.

Fear made my lungs tight. One careless step, and I would fall to my death. I pressed my back against the mountain stone, and edged my way closer, as the wind picked up my cloak and my skirts and pulled against me. Foolish princess, I told myself. Why had I not worn trousers and tunic to flee Uyan Taesil in, instead of this gown? It had been designed for courtly riding, not for adventures, and the seams had ripped beneath my arms, the waistline sagged where I had torn stitches when I had stepped on the hem, and the fine fabric was stained and generally bedraggled. 

I was both grateful and concerned about the dragon’s absence thus far. Did he not know that I approached? Or was he not at home? Had he moved to other dwellings? The villagers had not been helpful. They had reached an accord with the dragon in recent weeks, and did not want to disrupt it, even if I were a more unusual dragon-seeker to those they normally saw.

But then, if he came, between the narrow ledge that the path had become and the dragon’s fury, I would have little chance of survival. The path curved, and then snaked out again, and I could see the entrance to the cave.

I edged my way slowly closer. It was a large entrance. It would have to be, I thought, for a dragon to fit within. There were scrape marks in the rock from his scales rubbing against them. The ledge before it was large, too – more than big enough to accommodate a sizeable dragon landing upon it. I breathed a sigh of relief as I stepped upon it and wondered how often such a thing occurred. Foolish princess, relieved to reach the dragon’s cave.

The moon was not bright, but it illuminated several meters into the tunnel, after which, it plunged into darkness. The tunnel ran deep, and for the first few meters, the walls were uninterrupted, and then I could see openings into smaller caves, and the hint of things within them. What sort of horrors lay inside a dragon’s cave? I wondered.

Did the dragon sleep inside?

My breath was overloud in my ears, but I could not hear anything else that would give indication of anything within the tunnel. Surely if my breathing were so loud, a creature the size of a dragon would take great big sighs of air that could easily be heard from where I stood.

I edged into the tunnel cautiously as the darkness deepened. My boot slipped again, and I looked down expecting to see armour, but instead saw gold coins gleaming in the moonlight. Scattered, perhaps, when the dragon came and went.

A mine, I thought, from the tool marks in the walls, though I had never been in a mine before. The marks could equally be dragon claws, I amended. But the village below was a mining village, and it made sense that this would be an abandoned mine.

The cave had a smell, not unpleasant like the corpses on the path, but something that reminded me of the temples of Seigradh, the smoky tones of dracaena and cinnabar, mixed with something that I could not put a name to. It surprised me that a dragon’s cave would smell of incense. But then, what had I expected it to smell like? Sulphur, char and burnt corpses? I imagined that the stench was as offensive to dragon’s noses as it was to mankind’s.

Several meters in, there were smaller caves to either side. One contained an upholstered chair and table, and shelves of leatherbound books, another held chests and bolts of luxurious fabrics, many with gold or silver thread, and the finest muslin. A bed was within another, nearer to the main cavern, decadently dressed in furs and silks. What use did a dragon have for a man-sized bed? I wondered.

My eyesight was adjusting to the dark as I drew closer to the main cave. The amount of gold underfoot was increasing, interspersed with both cut and uncut gemstones, their colours lost to the monochrome of the darkness. I crunched one under my foot and froze. Hopefully it was not priceless, I thought ruefully as I scuffed the stone fragments to the side. But then, the dragon must damage quite a few of the stones himself, coming and going, and would not be angered by my accidental crushing of one… Two, I amended as another crack occurred underfoot.

The scent of incense was gradually growing stronger.

The tunnel opened into a massive chamber, darkness and shadows in greys and blacks indicating its vastness. In the centre, the treasure pile was of bewildering scale. I could build a small castle from the gold, with windows made of gemstones, furnished with gold and silver plates, cups, and utensils.

There were several thrones around the chamber, wine bottles and books at their sides, as if the dragon regularly had visitors to join him around the treasure pile, for book discussions over wine.

Another small cave towards the rear of the cavern held signs of being used as a kitchen, with a fireplace venting up into a natural opening in the rock, a table and two chairs, shelves on the walls containing crockery, and several chests pushed up against the wall. Did his book and wine visitors stay for dinner? What did a dragon serve?

One chamber had pierced through to a natural spring, and claw marks showed that the dragon had gouged out a bowl for it to collect in. Did he drink from it? Or, perhaps, his book and wine visitors bathed in it, I thought facetiously, as it would make a generously sized bath.

The one thing the dragon cave lacked, and the one thing I had come for, was a dragon.

Where was he?

I had not imagined it this way and was unsure of how to proceed in his absence. In my mind, there would be fire, and roaring, and I would valiantly yell my needs at him, moving him with the plight of the brethren of my kingdom, and hopefully saving my life just as he was about to turn me to ash. I would mount his back and we would immediately fly to the Fae Court, and by midday tomorrow, the Fae would march to war saving Uyan Taesil and my brother…

Perhaps not the most realistic of imaginings.

I decided the best thing to do was take one of the thrones and wait for him. I would be in the open, not hiding, and therefore he would not mistake me for a thief. I sat to wait. The arms of the throne were smooth beneath my hands, as if from frequent use, and there was a bottle of wine by the chair that still contained liquid. It had been an exhausting climb, so I poured the wine into one of golden goblets and drank it cautiously. It was a good wine, well-aged, and with the heat of potency behind its smooth berry accents. I poured myself another.

The night aged slowly. I wandered the caves, investigating the contents as much as the poor light would let me. The kitchen smelled of drying herbs, but the fireplace was cold to the touch. A fire had not been lit there today.

I washed my hands and face in the pool of water and tried to tidy my dress. It was a hopeless effort however, it was unsalvageable. There were clean dresses in the chests in the cave where fabrics were kept, beautiful dresses in expensive fabric, cut in styles of eras past, but I would not steal, even with the temptation of a bath and clean clothing.

I lay down on the bed. The incense scent originated from the cushions. It was caught in the fabric, not overwhelming, just pleasantly present as I lay my head down on the down-filled pillows. It smelled, I thought, quite wonderful actually. Masculine.

I would not sleep, I told myself. It would be a very bad idea to fall asleep. But then, I did not think a sleeping woman would present him much of a threat. Still, not a good…