Prince Luca and the Dragon
Once upon a time, there lived a just, brave king, and his name was King Brian. King Brian loved his kingdom and her people, so he ruled as best he could, always putting their needs above his own. The people could see this, so they loved their king and submitted to his rule. The kingdom prospered, and the people were happy.
Fortune favored the little kingdom for a generation. The king dealt fairly with other sovereigns, and justly guided and protected his people; and the people rejoiced because they were free to do as they should. They grew their crops and raised their stock; they took fish from the river and game from the forest; they built houses and a church; they made many useful things and even some art. They were made in the image and likeness of God, man and woman, so of course they fell in love with one another, and there were many weddings in the little church.
God smiled upon the kingdom and its happy people and blessed them with many children. But this is a fallen world. The dragon came one autumn morning in the twentieth year of the just king’s rule.
From the frozen North on swift, fell wings he flew and brought woe to the kingdom and her people, for he burned up their church, and he burned up their houses, and he burned up their crops, and he gobbled up their precious children. The people were distraught, and likewise therefore was their king, and he knew that he must rid his realm of the serpent’s scourge or else perish in the attempt.
Upon saddling up his sturdy horse, and loading up his needful gear, and strapping on his deadly sword (which was the symbol of his rule) and taking up his trusty helmet (which had been handed down through generations) the king went to his pregnant queen’s chamber and summoned his only son. So it was that young Prince Luca, a strapping, smiling little sprout, toddled to his mother’s room and, with the scent of almonds and vanilla in his snout, heard these words, though he was yet too small to grasp their full import.
KING:
Son, for you, I’m on my knees.
Here’s a kiss, and here’s a squeeze.
Rising, I’ll ask one of you,
My darling queen, my little boo.
A kiss to help my heart be still;
I’ll come back or the dragon will.
QUEEN:
Oh! My husband, do not go!
Your wife, your children need you so!
And your people, and your land
Need their king, a living man,
Not some dusty pile of bones
Far away and all alone!
But the king would not be dissuaded, nor would he listen to reason when the fair queen begged him take the royal guard or a squad, at least, of cavalry. He refused her, saying he would not risk his precious men where he was going, and furthermore, should the wyrm return while he was gone, he would have all hands on deck to defend the realm. So the prince said, “bye, daddy!” and the queen kissed her man and wept, and the king cut a fine figure as he galloped out alone on that hearty steed, to the cheers and admiration of his people, never once looking back, the better to conceal his bitter tears.
And then, nothing.
A day passed, and the people held their breath. A week passed, and the soldiers grew restless. A month passed, and the queen ruled well. A year passed, and the dragon returned.
Soaring high, then diving low, with flaming breath he wrought their woe.
Then, when he had slaked his lust (for misery) and ground to dust all the people’s hopes and dreams, he wheeled around on wicked wings, and with a fulsome mocking roar, flew back north to brood once more.
Each fall, he returned, and it was a hard time for the kingdom. Though the king had been brave yet hasty, the queen was cautious and cunning. With her wise leadership, few lives were lost in the attacks, but the dragon therefore vented his frustration all the more on their crops and infrastructure.
Still, the kingdom persevered, and by and by the prince was reared, blessed with his mother’s love and the finest teachers in the realm. It happened that he came of age of a fine late summer’s day when the wheat was high and the pigs were fat and the people’s hearts were heavy for their lost king and their impending rendezvous with havoc. Prince Luca had his father’s hot blood, though he’d barely known the man, so never learned his foolish ways.
The sprout had become a stripling, full of energy and rage. He hated the beast and loved his people with a passion. The very day he came of age, as the crowd without the keep made merry in spite of (or perhaps to soothe) their heavy hearts, the prince stuck out his chest like a man and marched to his mother’s cozy chamber.
In he rushed with furrowed brow; before he spoke he took a bow. His mother knew his mind, of course, and said these words with such remorse.
QUEEN:
Oh! My son, I love you so!
I know one day you must go
Up north to face that fiendish beast,
But wait a year or two at least!
For the love you bear me, child,
Stay at home with me a while!
PRINCE:
Mother, must you make me weep?
You know I shall never sleep
While our folk await in silence
That disgusting creature’s violence!
For my love for them and you,
I’m off to do what I must do.
Now that he could go, he would do so, and he would not hesitate. Nor would he make his father’s mistake. Upon donning his gilded mail and royal doublet, and saddling up a destrier from the royal stable, and taking up a contus from the royal armory, the prince went out on the public square and rallied all the kingdom’s men at arms to him, but not before his mother kissed him on the cheek with tearful eyes.
Mounted thus, and cutting a regal figure himself, he gave them a fine speech, explaining that he loved his kingdom and her people as his father had, and he knew that if he would justly ascend the throne, he must first finish what the great man had started and rid them of that wretched abomination once and for all, or, at the very least, find and return the king’s remains and his sword, which was the symbol of his rule; and furthermore, there comes a time in every man’s life when he must choose. Will he stay home by the fire in comfort and security, accept defeat and obscurity? Or will he ride forth and place his one-and-only, fragile, sacred, earthly body between the dreaded foe and his beloved land and family, thus, live or die, to write his name eternally on history — now who would ride north with the prince on this day?
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” and off they went to arm themselves and rendezvous outside the gate.
Then there was an awkward confrontation when the prince, seeing every fighting man in the kingdom before him, and realizing his father’d had a point, ordered half of them back to defend hearth and home, but the ones so ordered refused, saying they too must confront the dragon, others should remain instead, and besides, the young prince didn’t have the right to order them, because, as he’d conceded before, he hadn’t yet been coronated.
The riders and the prince stood at loggerheads until a man called Publius, who was captain of the guard, spoke up. With clever logic and intricate knowledge of the law and facts, he made the case that within the prince’s royal person resided the divine right to rule the kingdom, and thus command the militia, notwithstanding any temporary legal technicalities to the contrary. When he stood back at last, all agreed, however grudgingly, that he was correct — and looked upon the prince as rightful leader.
The matter thus settled, the men parted ways. Half of them headed grumbling for home, while the lucky ones galloped forth in all their glory, with the prince out in front and Publius right behind him. North they rode for many days, and as the air grew colder, and the road grew harder, the people they encountered were ever fewer and the fauna more ferocious — and weirder too.
Finally, they passed through the borderlands and ventured into the stagnant realm of the dragon, where it’s always winter, and no man can survive for long, for the water is foul, there’s nothing to eat, fell beasts prowl both day and night, and even the very trees lay in wait to murder you with their rotten, falling branches loaded with smothering snow. A hundred times over, the prince would have met a gruesome end at the stinking fangs or claws of some grotesque monster were it not for the fortitude and swift courage of his loyal retainers. Flying through the air, the dragon left no signs to follow, but it was said he resided in a volcano at the center of the blighted lands, so cautiously they rode to where the sulphur stench grew worse, until, at last, they beheld the cursèd mountain.
Far above them gaped a massive, smoking aperture, through which the dragon surely came and went, but the cliffs defending it were so sheer they had little hope of gaining it. So the prince ordered his men to cast about the foot of the volcano ’til they found another op’ning, which they did at once. It was a putrid, stinking little black orifice into the bowels of that foul, smoking fortress, too tiny, even, for his contus, let alone his destrier, so he dismounted, and the soldiers did likewise.
He handed his weapon to Publius and paused, looking inward as he faced his men, while they regarded the fine young prince standing before them at sunset with a few snowflakes landing lightly on his long blonde hair, lending him a mythic, regal air.
Finally, he spoke to them, saying that where he was going, no man could follow, literally, because he would have to crawl on his belly into the narrow tunnel, and he wanted to be able to back out should the fancy strike him. Therefore, they must all wait here, 'til he returned, or it was clear — that he never would.
As soon as he wormed his way inside, the prince was lost to the world, for it wasn’t just a tunnel, but an intricate, honeycomb maze, and not an iota of light shone in upon the various twists and turns. Thus he couldn’t see, but he could still feel, and he could still smell, and so he blindly crept his way forward, and each time he came upon a fork, he took the foulest route, knowing that way surely lay the dragon. And he could still hear, too, for anon he began to perceive an ominous cacophony.
As he crept closer, he realized with a chill: the horrible sound he heard was nothing more nor less than the snores, sighs, and wheezing of the odious nemesis he so doggedly sought. Suddenly his groping hand grasped a dusty femur, and carefully, just to progress, brushed it aside, with all the rest (its twin, the pelvis, and some ribs and fragments) 'til he discovered an important artifact. It was his father’s sword, of course, ever deadly after all these years.
Grimly, then, he pressed ahead, 'til presently he found the head, still encased in the ancestral helmet. So macabre was the tableau that he didn’t stop or slow, but instead popped out the skull and placed the helm upon his noble brow. No sooner had he done so than he felt a change.
The stench assaulting his sense of smell was somehow more bearable when coming through the helmet; and it seemed to carry new information, like size, direction, and distance of the dragon. The sounds he heard now seemed alive with meaning and nuance. More importantly, suddenly, he could see.
Thus, he perceived that from where he lay amidst his father’s moldering old bones he almost could have spit to the end of the passage he’d been crawling through, and it would have fallen in a large, open chamber. And that the beast was very close. His heart leaped into his throat, but, undeterred, and pushing his father’s sword out before him, he began to inch forward again, as quietly as he could, but not quietly enough.
As soon as he started moving, the rumbling muttering of the dragon resolved itself into coherent speech in a horrifying, basso profundo voice, which spoke to him, saying:
“Who’s that sneaking in my house? Come on out, you little mouse! Though your death would be too easy, I’ve got cheese for those who please me.”
Deep in the grips of mortal terror, the young prince held his breath and didn’t move a muscle. At last, the serpent spoke again.
“Come out I say! My flame can reach a good way into that rat hole, though my body can’t. You wouldn’t survive it. Your father surely didn’t.
That’s right, brat, I know you by your scent. You can’t imagine how keen my nose is.
This is your last chance. Keep on crawling forward 'til you get to me, but be careful: there’s a drop.
You may as well trust me, since you’ve got nothing to lose now, and I’ll reward you if you make me happy.
Don’t just throw your life away. Stick around so we can play.
Come out!”
With that, the dragon drew in a great, deep breath, as though to blow a mighty conflagration. “Wait!” shouted the prince and began crawling forward again. Before long he came to the aforementioned drop into the dragon’s rancid chamber, and, gripping the sword’s hilt with one hand and the rim with the other, awkwardly twisted his body ’round so he would land on his feet as he extruded himself from the hole.
The instant the prince’s boots touched the ground, the chamber erupted with an awful, riotous laughter, which shook up dust and rattled pebbles on the floor. The dragon had to turn his great big ugly head to one side so as not to roast the young prince prematurely with the flaring gouts of flame shooting uncontrollably from his nostrils. It seemed he would never stop laughing, but, at great length, he brought his mirth under control enough to say, gleefully:
“You priceless, precious little fool! I did not think you were going to fall for that! Your father surely didn’t.
You should have been backing out the entire time I was talking instead of sitting there with your thumb up your ass, but now, as sure as the old man’s dead and gone, there is no earthly way you will ever leave this place alive — believe that — save on one condition, and it’s an easy one. Well, maybe not easy, but fun.
You are one stupid son of a bitch, but you’ve got guts, kid, and I like that, not to mention what smells like a supple young body. I could use a guy like you. You don’t need brains to serve me, just balls.
And I can give you anything you want. Anything.
What do you say?”
“Jesus, help me,” muttered the prince, and quicker than a mousetrap the dragon’s slimy tail shot out and wrapped around his chest, lifting him up and squeezing the life out of him. He was right in front of the serpent’s twisted face and couldn’t help but behold its ghastly details through the helmet’s visor; the beast looked as though he’d once been a man. The prince gasped and writhed in agony, which forced all of the air out of his body, and he began to see stars. Perceiving that he was about to pass out, the dragon put him back down but kept clenching and wriggling his disgusting tail compulsively as he went on:
“There is no god, you ignorant redneck, only matter and will, and I’ve got both in spades, which means I matter more than you, and I will have my way!
You stubborn deplorables make me sick with your old-fashioned religion and your precious weapons! What are you trying to make up for by carrying that big sword around, anyway? Don’t you know it’s useless against me?
Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m a lot like you — or I was. How do you think I made it to the top in the first place? The difference is, I’m a lot smarter than you are, smart enough to see that there’s no supernatural, only particles and waves and various fields and forces; smart enough to see that there are too many people for the earth to keep alive much longer, especially the way we’ve been living; and smart enough to see that most of them don’t have it nearly as easy as me and you do.
That’s right; don’t deny it; admit it to yourself, at least, you blond-haired, blue-eyed prince! You were born with so many unearned advantages, you don’t know the half of them, and I was too. You and I, we began the race on third base! Never mind the mixed metaphor; you get what I’m sayin’.
The difference is, I’ve evolved.
Don’t get me started on your oppressive, patriarchal ways! Do you even know how privileged you are?
Grow up! Follow the science! No one lives like you any more! It’s a new age, and you’re just a bitter clinger, a reactionary relic of the old!”
It seemed the prince was about to meet his maker, but suddenly a pained expression came over the dragon’s face, and his lips kept moving, but there were no words the prince could hear, as though the beast were having another conversation with someone else. A moment later, the serpent shuddered sickly and went on.
“Never mind — I shouldn’t be so hard on you. You don’t know any better yet. You don’t even know what a great honor it is that I’m talking to you right now. You’re lucky I like you, kid.
For I control the world, you see, and every nation worships me. Almost every nation, anyway, and the ones that don’t soon will, including your backwards, backwater little kingdom.
Kingdom? For your information, most of us have moved on from that primitive form of government by now. Welcome to our democracy.
Anyway, as I say, I have many friends and admirers, and they bring me tribute, leaving it on the field where your puny rabble now waits in vain for your return, and I fly down to them. Sometimes I deign to speak to them, as I am now to you; other times I merely use them to gratify my appetites, as I will soon do with your pathetic soldiers.
Your witch mother’s been lying to you all your life. She could have stopped my little visits any time she wanted; all she’d have to do is deliver to me the gold and/or other… ah… treasures that I enjoy, like all the good little leaders do. Instead, she foolishly sends mercenaries against me.
Most of them take the money and run. Some venture in to my peaceful lands, but most of those turn back before too long, if my pets don’t get them first. Very few actually try to come inside my home, and none have made it as far as you. None since your father, and now you’ve come farther.
Congratulations, kid! I’m glad you did!
Now here’s your chance, and you’ll only get one, so don’t blow it. Think of what we can accomplish together, with my brains and brawn, and your… assets. I’ve been looking for someone like you: a popular, attractive sidekick with enough moxie to help me keep the other hypermasculine rubes in line… until we educate their children.
As my number two, you’ll be on top of the world. Kings and queens — and princesses — will be at your beck and call, and you will have anything and everything you want. Anything and everything, my friend, as long as you make sure that I get mine first. Think on it.
Besides, otherwise you’ll be dead in five minutes, ten if I can make it last. Believe me, the only way you’ll ever leave this place alive is flying on my back, as my servant.
And you should be so lucky! I’ll make you famous! And we’ll build a better world!
You and I will put an end to war, famine, and inequality! (Well, except for those of us who get to be a little bit more equal, eh pal?) Why, we’ll even do away with all discomfort and disease! There will be no limits, no boundaries left at all!
Together, we’ll conquer nature and make a new world in our image! This is a gift I’m offering you!
And it’s gonna happen anyway, so you might as well be the one who gets to come out on top.
My sweet prince, I know you can’t see me, but believe me, I’m smiling at you.
Come on, what do you say?”
So it was that young Prince Luca learned someone could lie to him while stating only facts, for the serpent was indeed smiling, but it was a malicious, hungry smile. Thus he also learned of his one and only advantage, and suddenly an idea popped into his ignorant redneck head — from where? Who knows, but he decided to try it. Maybe it would work, and maybe he would die, but regardless, he was happy, because he wouldn’t have to listen to the beast’s insipid drivel much longer.
The young prince then stood gallantly before the dragon, flourishing his father’s sword in the serpent’s face, and said these words as bravely as he could.
PRINCE:
Evil wyrm, I hate you so!
I love my people much more, though,
So this chance I offer you.
Take it if you’re not a fool.
No more to my kingdom fly,
Or I promise you will die.
DRAGON:
Oh, you silly little boy
Playing with your daddy’s toy!
I don’t hate you; I’m just hungry.
Feed me women, kids, and money!
Treasure’s what my heart desires!
Bring me some or feel my fire!
“I swear to God, I will never serve you,” replied the prince.
“Hahaha,” gloated the serpent, “that’s exactly what your dad said; now prepare to meet him in hell!” And he reared up his foul girth, flexing his terrible wings in triumph before giving the coup de grace, not knowing that the prince could see him in that inky, black darkness, because he was looking through the visor, from the very same perspective that his father and grandfather, etc., had looked since the dawn of the kingdom.
Now, dear reader, I’m just going to state this plainly because it’s important. Mark my words; they could save your life one day. Every dragon has a weakness, a missing scale, a chink in its impenetrable armor, usually on the underside of the torso, but sometimes on the neck or groin. God forbid you ever suffer a dragon attack, but should that sad day come, look for that weakness, and if you see it, don’t hesitate. Strike fast, and strike true, for you will not get a second chance.
No one ever told Prince Luca that, because he lost his father so young, but that’s okay, because he didn’t need to be told. When he saw that quivering, pink diamond of sweaty flesh in among the greasy, grey scales of the beast’s giant body, he instantly grasped its significance, and, quicker than you can think it, plunged his deadly sword up to the hilt in the deceiver’s gross belly.
That’s when the world ended.
The plucky prince jerked out his sword — his sword now — and leapt back at the last possible second before several seems appeared on the dragon’s corpulent, now-glowing bulk as it swelled up and then split open like a rotting fruit, emitting clouds of foul gasses and gallons of burning, stinking bile, all while the beast arched its back, shot a geyser of flame straight up into the ceiling, and shrieked in wretched agony, “I only wanted to build a more just, verdant, and peaceful woooooooooorld!” before exploding in a toxic cloud of hubris, arrogance, and self-deception.
But the prince didn’t catch those last words because the fumes choked him and the shockwave deafened him and the bright light blinded him, visor notwithstanding, and the cavern collapsed on him. Thank God his gilded mail and trusty helmet protected his one-and-only, fragile, sacred, earthly body from most of the harm that might otherwise have been done, but when his soldiers scrambled up the ruined hill to where he lay and dug him out, and he finally came to, he was well and truly blinded and had nothing to say for himself, nor would he for a few days, for he was not the innocent young prince who’d willingly crawled into the underworld so recently.
He couldn’t unhear the serpent’s poisoned words, nor could he unthink the demoralizing thoughts they’d engendered in his mind. It was only for a moment, a stitch in time, less than it takes you to read this, (it was when he heard the word “princesses”) that he was tempted, and he allowed himself to contemplate what it would be like to take the dragon up on his offer and see where that road goes. Just a moment in time it was, but it was enough to show him that hell is real, it’s on earth, and you can live there.
The worthy prince shuddered as he came to grips with it. What could he do with the taint he’d received from his encounter with the serpent? Nothing, it seemed, except confess his sins to a priest and keep on loving his people and doing the best he could by them, so that’s what he resolved to do, but he was in no condition to help when his party was ambushed by bandits while withdrawing from the volcano.
It’s sad, but it’s true what the dragon said: there are a lot of people out there who are confused, or just cynical, and drawn to the beast; some (especially the selfish children of the wealthy) fall for his sophistry, but many more are merely after his riches and his other, baser pleasures. Many such men, depraved yet dangerous, had been lurking around the dragon’s mount with interest since the royal party arrived, and of course these men knew what it meant when they felt the explosion and saw half the volcano come tumbling down. The bandits weren’t wrong on the bare facts either, for the brave little band was indeed positively loaded down with gold and jewels from the dragon’s ancient hoard in addition to their wounded prince on a litter and the relics of their old king in a special box they’d brought for the purpose.
It’s a shame, too, because none of the prince’s brave retainers had perished in their perilous adventure thus far, but now, at the last possible moment, many were slain in this tragic final battle, including brave Publius, who was out in front commanding the counterattack until he was cut down, catching a pitiless quarrel to the throat from the hidden crossbow of some crouching coward. Seeing this didn’t dampen the men’s courage, but rather doubled it, and it wasn’t long after that the royal party saw the bandits off, casting down the mangled corpse of many a marauder, whose free-flowing crimson blood defiled the virgin white snow. They paused half a day to bury the dead, even those of the enemy, for in death they’d sloughed off all their menace and were now just poor, lost boys.
Nothing more of note happened as they finished their long journey and made it home one bright spring day, just as the first robins were arriving in the kingdom. The beautiful queen who was their namesake kissed the prince as she shed tears of joy, of course, to see her only son come home again. Now he could walk, and he could talk, but still he couldn’t see. “Never fear” said his “witch” mother, who was not only a savvy queen, but also a gifted herbalist, and her potions and poultices had him right as rain and seeing better than ever in a week or two.
So it was that young Prince Luca returned a hero, having secured the kingdom’s survival and returned the remains of his beloved father. After his coronation, in which the sword played an important symbolic role, he caused a larger-than-life statue of the old king to be erected in the center of the public square, where it still stands to this day, as well as one in another square nearby, only slightly smaller, bearing the likeness of dear Publius and the names of all the men who never came home from the quest.
And he wasn’t young Prince Luca any more. He was — he is — a man now, a king no less, and he surpasses his father in every way. With his just, brave (and wise) leadership, the kingdom lives happily ever after.
Well, for now at least. For another wyrm will surely someday rise, and probably soon. Some things ain’t never gonna change, as long as there’s money to exchange. It won’t look quite like the last one (they never do), and it will be hard to see at first, but that’s okay because the trusty helmet waits in King Luca’s closet.
And besides, do you recall that the queen was pregnant at the start of the story? Yes, the kingdom has a princess too, and she’ll have her own adventure, which will be just as wonderful and important as this one, but that’s a tale for a different day.
Until then
this is
THE END.