A woman with long, black hair sat on a golden throne, behind it lay a dragon with golden scales on the marble floor. The skirt of her elegant, purple bust-dress lay neatly draped on the white floor. Dark-purple scales started at her pointed ears and travelled down over her neck, shoulders and arms and ended on the top of her hands. Her eyes were two golden ovals and the tips of two purple wings stuck out above her shoulders. Her arms lay on the purple velvet cushions of the arm-rests. A small smile appeared on her face.
“What is it, my Queen,” the dragon asked.
“We have guests, Leera,” she said. “They will be here soon.”
~
Three men walked over a curved path through the mountains. After a long journey they finally reached the place they had been looking for. At the beginning of marble stairs they stopped and looked at the grand palace above them. Two white towers on opposite sides spiralled up and ended in golden roofs. A red dragon held on to one of the pointed roofs and three more dragons flew above the palace. One with yellow scales and two with an orange colour. The white walls of the palace were made of marble and every window frame was made of gold.
After gazing up in awe the three men started going up the stairs, with wary glances to the winged creatures. Their clothing showed how different these men were from each other.
The first wore the clothes of a common man, a beige tunic under a light-brown woollen jacket and matching woollen trousers. His light-brown leather boots seemed worn-down from travels and on his short, brown and somewhat curly hair he had a light-brown hat with green feathers. A dark-green traveling cloak hung loosely over his shoulders, the bulky shape on his bag revealed he carried something under it.
The second wore finer clothes, the dark-brown shirt and trousers were tailor-made and fit his body perfectly. His short, black hair was uncovered by anything and a light-green woollen cloak kept him warm through the travel.
The last one wore the clothes of a high-placed cleric, the hem of the light-blue robe was dirty from the travel, but the blond man wore it with pride. His cloak was in the same colour as his robe and had the crest of a kingdom on the back.
Together they walked up to a giant wooden door and looked golden symbols.
“Draconic,” the cleric said. “I cannot read it.” He looked to the black-haired man. “Did you come across this language in your studies of alchemy?” he asked him.
“No,” the alchemist replied with a heavy accent in his voice. “I’ve seen some books mention the symbols, but I don’t know what they mean.”
Both of them looked at the last man now. “And you, Mikhal?” The cleric asked.
“How can a simple bard know the language of dragons?” Mikhal asked with a friendly smile and he looked at the door. “But,” he continued as he stepped forward, “from the stories that I have heard the door should open by itself.” The door didn’t move. “Well, maybe we ought to introduce ourselves first.”
“To a door?” the alchemist asked.
“To the Queen,” Mikhal corrected him. “She probably saw us coming the moment we sat foot on the path.”
“It is worth a try,” the cleric said as he stepped forward. He looked at the door. “I am Otin, the cleric of king Theodore. We come with a humble request.”
At first nothing happened, but then the doors opened and Otin jumped back, startled by the sudden movement. He looked at both of his travel companions before he went forward.
The inside of the palace was much like the outside, the floors and walls were made of white marble and gold glistered everywhere. The hallway was spacious, four horses could walk alongside each other and still have room on either side. The three men looked around in awe as their footsteps echoed around the room. The hallway ended with a set of golden doors and those opened when they neared them, revealing a big circular room. The white ceiling had symbols similar to those on the entrance and in the middle was a golden throne. Behind the throne lay a dragon with golden scales and it looked at them. But that was not what caught their attention. On the throne sat a woman with long, black hair, a set of wings and golden eyes. They knew this had to be the Dragon Queen.
The three men were in awe by her appearance, but Mikhal soon knelt down, quickly followed by the cleric and the alchemist slowly followed their example.
~
The Dragon Queen looked at the three men kneeling on her marble floor. She had seen them enter the mountains through the eyes of her dragons and she had known they were on their way to see her. So many sought her out, or tried at least. Not everyone reached the stairs leading up to her palace. How many had walked through the doors over the course of the centuries of her existence? How many had perished before they ever laid eyes on the palace? She had lost count.
None of the three men spoke and she rose gracefully from her throne. Every step she took forward was as elegant as the last and she glided towards her guests. She knew Leera would keep a close eye on them, but would not interfere or speak up until she needed to.
“Be welcome,” she told them as she looked down on them. “Rise and tell me the nature of your visit.” She watched how they rose to their feet and her eyes settled on the cleric. “What request from your king do you bring?”
“W-we received word that the king from a neighbouring country will attack us,” the cleric stammered, “we have not provoked them in any way and our army is considerably smaller. Would you be willing to aid us, mighty queen?”
She looked at the cleric with a timeless expression. “I do not mingle in the affairs of mortals,” she eventually said. “Which king rules where is not my concern.”
“B-but two hundred years ago you aided king Han rise to power, did you not?”
“King Han,” she repeated with a faint smile, she remembered him. Was it really two-hundred years? It was hard to put a number on the passage of time, but it seemed accurate. “I never aided him,” she continued, “he already was a great king when he visited my palace. It was curiosity that drove him here, nothing more. No request came from him when he was here.”
“Was he your lover?” Mikhal blurted out.
“Not an unexpected question from a bard.” She looked at him with her golden eyes, thinking back to her dear king and smiled as she did. “He was. What brought you here?”
“I know a lot of stories,” Mikhal replied. “Including tales about the mighty Dragon Queen and descriptions of where she would live. So they asked me to guide mister Otin and mister Kendru to your palace.”
Names. Did she ever carry one? If she had, she didn’t remember. Everyone called her Dragon Queen. The dragons did, the humans did, the bardugs did, every creature that had a language called her that. It was her title, her name. It was her entire being. “It seems you did a fine job,” she said to the bard and her eyes moved to the alchemist. “What about you.”
“Curiosity, my queen,” Kendru replied. “Curiosity and knowledge about your creatures. It is for the latter I was contacted and the first I wanted to come.”
Her eyes lingered on Kendru for a moment, before she turned around and glided back towards her throne, showing her low cut-out dress and the wings on her back. “I will not fight your battles for you. If you have another wish, say it and I might grant it.” She looked back at her guests as she gracefully sat down on the throne once more. “But before that, I have one request of my own.”
“A request?” the cleric repeated. “What kind of request?”
“One the bard can fulfil.” She looked at Mikhal. “Take your lute and sing for me. Sing about my king.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Mikhal replied as he got the lute from under his cloak. He plucked the strings and started singing the Ode To King Han. He knew for sure it wouldn’t get him into trouble here, unlike the last time he sang it, when his friend Lemitsa had used him and the song as a tool to get what he wanted. After the Ode he sang two more songs he knew about the wise and the fair and the noble king Han. Kendru and Otin listened politely, but Mikhal sang for the Queen and she was the one he looked at.
By the end of the last song the Dragon Queen rose from her throne once more and walked over to the wall. “Thank you, bard,” she said as her hand moved over the marble tiles. “I longed to hear such songs and your voice made the words come to life for me. Let me reward you.”
“Your gratitude,” Mikhal began, but he got interrupted by the Dragon Queen.
“My gratitude will not persuade the father of lady Catheryn that you can provide for her and agree to your marriage,” she told him. Tiles moved away from each other and revealed a hidden chamber.
Mikhal stared at her winged back. “How do you know that?”
“I can hear your thoughts,” she told him as she went into the room. When she emerged she had two satin pouches with her and glided over to him. “One is filled with precious stones, the other with pure golden marbles.”
“Three songs do not deserve such a reward,” Mikhal protested.
“I hear your thoughts, I know your heart. I know what you did to help others. At one point kindness should be rewarded. This is what you deserve.”
Mikhal hesitantly accepted the gifts, he still wasn’t too sure he deserved this, but he didn’t want to argue with a powerful woman either. Even if only half the stories he knew were true and if even those stories exaggerated her abilities, he still was no match for her.
She turned to the cleric, who stared at the satin bags. “For being loyal to your king, I will give you something. And I will give a gift for your king, it will not win his battle, but it might help.” She went back in the chamber and emerged moments later with a golden pen that would never run out of ink and a diamond dagger. As the cleric stuttered words of gratitude she turned her attention to Kendru.
“So you can hear our thoughts,” the alchemist said.
“Indeed. I know why you are here.”
Kendru smiled a sinister smile. “There’s no need to beat around the bush then. If I want immortality and power I need to take your place as Dragon King.”
Leera rose to her feet. “We will not obey you,” she rumbled.
“You’ll have no choice,” Kendru hissed. He put his hand in his pocket and wanted to retrieve something, but he stopped when he felt a hand on his arm and he looked at the bard.
“I cannot allow-” Mikhal began, but as the Dragon Queen rose her arm a golden light wrapped around him and slammed him in the wall behind him. He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he saw her walking towards him.
Behind her he saw the alchemist take a black dagger from his pocket, but the dragon charged forward and attacked. Kendru was barely able to dodge the powerful jaws that moved to his arm.
“You have a courageous heart,” the she told him and held his face between two hands, “but this is my battle. For your own safety, stay out of it.” She kissed his forehead while Kendru broke a vial on the ground, the red-brown liquid in it spread over the white tiles and as it mixed with air it started giving off dark-green fumes. “You have the love of your life to return to,” she continued as the dragon backed away when the fumes entered its nose, shaking its head and making gagging sounds as if the smell was intolerable for the creature. Her lips curled into a faint smile. “If your heart did not belong to someone else, I would have made you mine.”
The baffled Mikhal stared at her as she turned around and walked to Kendru. As she did, she pointed to the cleric. “Take cover if you value your life,” she instructed him, instructions Otin quickly followed and he hid behind the golden throne. She noticed Leera stepped forward and raised her hand to stop her dragon. And Leera complied. She stopped a few paces away from Kendru. “You are no match for me, alchemist.”
“Come now, you must have read in my mind what I have prepared.”
Leera bared her teeth. “Let me defend you, my Queen,” she urged her.
“Stay out of this,” the Queen ordered without looking at her dragon, she didn’t need to look at her to know she complied. “You know their weaknesses,” she said to Kendru.
“I studied dragons, but you know that.” Kendru tapped the side of his head with a finger. “I bet you read all sorts of interesting things.” He took a black dagger and hurled it at her, but she created a barrier of golden light and the dagger fell to the ground. He smirked, as if the failed attack didn’t bother him. He noticed how she raised her hand, undoubtedly to attack him, but he retrieved another flask and threw it in the liquid of the previous bottle.
The substance began spewing red fumes, filling the throne room in a red mist. The dragon heaved and sank to the ground, trying to move away from the cloud. The Dragon Queen trembled, but it didn’t affect her as much. She spread her arms and her eyes started shining. Surges of wind came from her and removed the fog, but as it cleared she noticed the alchemist had retrieved a second dagger and before she could summon her barrier again he threw it towards her with deadly aim. As the black blade of the dagger pierced her skin and flesh just above her breast she gasped and fell to her knees.
“How the mighty have fallen,” Kendru said as he approached her with a smirk. “You know this is the end.”
The Dragon Queen heaved for air and fell back. She lay on the ground, her long, black hair sprawled over the marble floor around her head. The wings under her body twitched faintly, just as the fingers on her hands. Her golden eyes were aimed at the ceiling and slowly they dimmed until her eyes were two black pits in a pale face.
The golden light that had pinned Mikhal to the wall vanished the moment life had left the Dragon Queen and he dropped to the ground. He stared at her, how could she have died so easily? As he heard a victorious laughter his head jerked in the direction of the alchemist.
“Who-ever kills the Dragon Queen will get her power,” he shouted elated as he raised his hands in the air. “You must know that, bard, you must have heard the stories too! Poison and potions! All it took was a special kind of poison and a specific stone dagger! And now-” He suddenly cringed and he wrapped his arms around his stomach. “What the…” He fell to his knees, gasping for air.
“Not everyone can deal with her power,” Mikhal said softly. “You should know that.”
“P-please, help me.”
“There is nothing I can do.” Mikhal looked at the body of the Dragon Queen. He didn’t even know her name, he hadn’t asked. He only knew her by her title. His face looked like it was carved in stone. “Kendru, you killed people for your experiments, even if that was never proven, and you killed her for power. You deserve what is happening to you.” He hadn’t lied, there really was nothing he could do, but at the same time, he didn’t feel sorry for the man. For the first time in his life he couldn’t bring himself to feel compassion for this man’s fate.
The alchemist screamed in agony as blood dripped from his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. He fell forward and blood slowly spread over the marble floor.
It was silent in the throne room. Mikhal walked over to the fallen Queen and fell to his knees besides her, he looked at her with sadness in his eyes and he shook his head in disbelief. How could someone decide to kill her when she had been nothing but kind to them? Otin came from behind the throne and joined Mikhal, he too seemed lost for words.
Leera got up from the ground and wobbled over to the body of her Queen and the two humans who stood beside it. Her eyes settled on the bard, for some reason the Dragon Queen had preferred this human. “You look sad,” she said to him.
“I am, this… I didn’t want to see this.”
The cleric frowned at Mikhal. “I thought you were well-spoken, bard.”
“Well, excuse me for not taking my time to say ‘I did not want to see it’,” Mikhal spat as he glared at Otis. “Well-spoken as I may be, there are times it feels just bloody right to curse like a commoner.” Despite the company he was in now or the fact that mingled with nobility a lot, he was a commoner. That was exactly why the father of lady Catheryn, the love of his life, didn’t want to approve to a marriage unless he could prove he could provide for her. He chose to be well-spoken, like nobles and scholars, because it suited him as a bard. Even commoners enjoyed listening to a well-spoken bard more than a common or vulgar one, well, depending on the crowd of course. The look of disapproval on Otis’ face didn’t bother Mikhal and he looked at the dragon. “I am sorry for what happened,” he said as he regained some of his composure. “I lead him here.”
“He would have found his own way,” Leera stated calmly, “you have no fault in what happened.
Mikhal looked at the dead woman again, he wasn’t sure if he could agree with the dragon, but the words were comforting. Witnessing the end of a grand mythical woman, what bard would want that? He wasn’t sure why the cleric didn’t seem effected by this tragedy, but he figured the man had a hard time to fully comprehend what had happened here, which would explain why he chose to comment on a detail like his speech rather than what had happened. With a sigh he rose to his feet, they had their gifts, but he would gladly return them in exchange for her life.
*** © Mariska Bekker ***