Princess Herona and the Dragon
Short Story Third Place Winner of the Georgia Peach Writing Contest
Dust and the thundering rumble of crumbling stone filled the air. “He’s attacking the keep!”
Racing up the north tower, Princess Herona saw five-foot claws slash past the arrow niches. After devouring even the country’s wild game, the dragon was after the last of their livestock hidden in their dungeons.
“Dragon!” Herona bellowed, leaping the last steps through the opening at the top. Her call brought searing flames racing overhead, singeing her ebony locks as she hastily ducked.
“Dare you speak?” the dragon roared. First, tongue lapped over the balustrade, then nostrils rose into view, and then the burning yellow eyes appeared, shining with vindictiveness. Herona met that gaze without averting her own green eyes, although her body’s tremble betrayed her.
“Leave our castle alone,” she offered, “and I will give you myself.”
“What’s to stop me from eating you now?”
“I will have the sages prepare me. Tomorrow I’ll be tastier, more sustaining, more memorable to your greedy stomach. Today, I will give you no satisfaction.”
“So, you think to give yourself for your people?” Those yellow eyes pierced the princess knowingly and a leer curved the red jowls. Then, astonishingly, the dragon flew away with only the agreement, “I will await you tomorrow, but if you do not fill me, I will return.”
“No!” the king exclaimed after his daughter had unraveled her plan. “If what you propose is feasible, someone else should do it. You are the only heir to this throne.”
“How could I ask anyone to sacrifice himself when I won’t?” Herona stood, dressed in her grandest for her request.
She squeezed her eyes shut against their growing wetness as the king cupped his hand behind her head. “Because this kingdom will fall without you, once I am gone. And, you are my daughter.”
Taking a deep breath, Herona removed her father’s hand in order to clasp it. “Someone has to do it and it’s entirely wrong to demand it of anyone else, no matter the reason. Should I make myself any more important than our people, our kingdom will die anyway, for its goodness will die.”
“I do not ask anything, but that you let someone step forth out of love for you.”
For just a moment, Herona’s heart lightened before reality seized her chest once again. “I told the few I could without the possibility of alerting the dragon. No one volunteered. If I cannot be brave, how can they?”
Without answer, the king threw his arms about her, clinging to her. She felt something wet drop onto the top of her head and knew his answer.
Retrieving a sweet-smelling poison from the country’s sages, Herona asked, “Will he know I’m poison?”
“You’ll only smell clean. As princess, that will be expected. Unfortunately, a perfumed animal is another story, which is why you must go.”
“And you’re sure it will kill him?”
“Bathe in it, my lady. Soak your skin. It’s not acidic, yet it is sure to destroy him from his stomach.”
Therefore, bathed in poison, clothed in peasant attire to insure no recognition by the city, and completely alone, Princess Herona slipped out the city gates into the barren stubble beyond their last stronghold. Ash swept her cloak about in the howling wind, blackened trees snapped as she passed, and brown blades of grass shivered as if afraid.
Herona jumped at every new sound, steeling herself for her death. Her heart had only minutes left to beat. While she forced her feet onward, toward the lake and its caves, her heart tried to rip itself out, tried to race back to the relative safety of the castle and the city nestled therein.
Hoof beats jerked her to a halt, and she drew the thin folds of her cloak closer about her chest, turning toward the sound. “Whoa,” a horseman commanded, pulling up before the princess. “Are you lost, my lady?” His armor glistened and light rippled through the horse’s silk attire.
“My lady?” Herona repeated. “Can you not see, Sir? I am simply a wandering serf.”
“Serf or queen, you’re a lady in my understanding,” the knight stated with a slight bow. As Herona flushed, he asked, “May I assist you in anything? This land is a strange place to find anyone traveling alone, much less one such as yourself.”
“Who are you, Sir? Your caparison of violet speaks of a wealth that would not thank you to be here.”
“In other places, I am untruthfully called Saint George. I am simply Sir George, and I seek those for whom my knowledge is required. Do you know of anyone in need of a strong, unwavering arm?”
“If you are as you claim, there is a city, a castle, in need of such, just a league back.” Herona nodded over her shoulder.
Piercing her with a concerned, knowledgeable gaze, Sir George repeated, “And are you in need of such? You have yet to tell me why you travel in such dead land or even why it is dead.”
Her wall breaking, the princess told him all, ending without speaking the complete truth in the fear of being overheard, for the lake stood just beyond, where either mist or smoke rose from a cavern along its edge, “It has promised to leave my city alone in return for my life.”
“My lady, let me fight your dragon. I am able to kill it without such noble sacrifice, and if I lie, if it does kill me, you may do as you deem best, but I cannot live while another sacrifices herself before my gaze.”
“Sir,” the princess began to protest but at the look in his brown eyes, she dipped her chin in submission. “Very well, Sir George, you may slay my dragon for me.”
Bowing, the knight turned his steed toward the grotto, where smoke definitely rose in angry plumes, as the princess stepped aside.
The End
Copyright: Esther Wallace, 2017, Please don't steal
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