by David Turnbull –
When Pa came in through the cottage door, Wil looked up from the messy scribble that was his homework. Pa hung his coat on the hook and took a seat by the fire.
“They’re finally going to do something about that dragon up on the High Hill,” he said.
“About time too,” said Ma, stirring the broth that was bubbling away on the range.
A log burning on the fire sent a cinder hissing onto the hearth. Pa reached across and stubbed it out with the tip of his shepherd’s crook.
“What are they going to do?” asked Wil.
Normally dragons lived to the north, where the Far Tundra met the Serrated Mountains, but this one had ended up in Low Counties and had made its lair up on crags of the High Hill. It had been a nuisance for months now, scorching crops in the fields, damaging church spires and, worst of all, leaving huge mounds of dragon dung piled up everywhere.
Wil had actually seen a mound of dragon dung in his neighbor’s back yard. Remembering the awful stench of it he screwed up his nose.
“There was a big meeting,” Pa told him. “All the mayors from all the villages across all of the Low Counties.”
Wil pushed his homework to one side. “They decided what to do about the dragon?”
“Eventually,” replied Pa. “None of them have ever dealt with a dragon crisis before. But from what I heard they agreed straight off that fetching a dragon slayer from Tennanbrau City would be too expensive.”
“Quite right too,” agreed Ma, setting the soup bowls out on the table. “We pay enough taxes as it is.”
Wil didn’t like the idea of a dragon slayer. The dragon might be a pest, but that was no reason for someone to go after it with a lance or a blunderbuss.
“Laying traps in the fields was another suggestion,” said Pa. “But then it was pointed out that sheep might wander into them.”
“And what about the children?” added Ma. “What if Wil accidentally stepped on one?”
Wil smirked to himself. He had his wits about him. He wasn’t likely to go stepping on a dragon trap.
But Pa agreed with Ma.
“It would have been negligent to say the least,” he said. “So the mayors argued all through the night. For every suggesting there were at least two arguments against.” He stretched out his legs and warmed his socks in front of the fire. “Eventually they concluded their only real option was to send a team of hunters up to the High Hill with their dogs.”
“That’ll cost money too,” said Ma. She ladled the broth into the soup bowls and beckoned them both to the table.
“Not as much as a professional dragon slayer.” Pa took his seat and tore off a hunk of bread from the freshly baked loaf that Ma had set down earlier. “I said they could use our old barn as a base.”
Ma placed the soup pot back on the range and swung round. Her face was red. “You did what?”
“I said they could use our old barn,” repeated Pa. “Our farm is the nearest to the foot of the High Hill.”
“I hope they’re not expecting to be fed,” said Ma.
“They’ll bring cheese and biscuits for their breakfast,” Pa assured her.
Wil lifted up a spoonful of his broth and blew on it to cool it down.
“When are they coming?” asked Ma. She looked even more flustered.
“This evening,” replied Pa. “They want to make a start at first light.”
Ma wiped her hands on her apron. “They can’t come this evening. The place is a mess. I haven’t had time to tidy up. Wil, you’ll have to help me.”
“They’re only going to use the old barn,” laughed Pa. “They’re not coming to the house.”
“Well I hope not,” said Ma, finally taking her seat. “I don’t want people gossiping in the village that the Redcap’s keep an untidy house.”
Wil swallowed down a mouthful of broth. Turning to Pa, he asked the question that had been churning in his mind since the first mention of the hunters. “When they go up to the High Hill can I go with them? I’d like to see them catch the dragon.”
“Certainly not!” cried Ma. “It’s too dangerous. You’d get yourself burned to a crisp.”
“Besides,” said Pa. “They’re not going to catch the dragon. They’re going to kill it.”
Later that evening Wil snuck around the side of the old barn. Ma was reading her book by the fireside while Pa sharpened the blades of his big scissors on the whetstone, getting them ready for the sheep-shearing season. Both of them thought Wil was in his room finishing his homework.
Half an hour earlier he had watched the red-bearded hunters arrive, their crossbows slung over their burly shoulders and their dogs straining against their leashes. Now he desperately wanted to listen in on what they were planning.
Through a space in the wooden slats of the old barn Wil could see the dogs lying down in a group just beyond where the hunters sat on a pile of old wool sacks, bathed in the flickering glow from their night lamps. They were talking about what trophies they would take once they killed the dragon.
“I’ll have the wings,” said one. “I know a man who makes excellent umbrellas.”
“I’ll take the skin,” said another. “It’ll make a fine leather jerkin for the winter.”
The third hunter rose to his feet. He took up his crossbow and loaded a bolt. Wil felt his heart quicken. Did they know he was there spying on them?
The hunter shouldered the crossbow and took aim at something at the far end of the barn. Squinting his eyes, Wil could just make out they had chalked a crude outline of a dragon on the far wall of the barn.
The hunter released his bolt with a loud thump. The three men let out a boisterous cheer that set the dogs off barking. Wil saw that the bolt had hit the chalk dragon right in the middle of its head.
“I’ll take its teeth,” said the hunter, over the racket of the dogs. “My wife wants a necklace for our anniversary.”
That’s horrible, thought Wil, hurrying back across the yard. I’m going to have to find a way to save the dragon.
Next morning, while it was still quite dark, Wil climbed out of his bedroom window. He followed the winding path that led through the bracken and the heather and up to the steep slope of the High Hill. By the time the red glow of the sun was peeping over the summit, he had already reached the area where the path became nothing but loose rock and shale.
The wind gusted all around him. It was so strong he had to bend his head into it when he walked. Although he looked all around for a cave that might be big enough for a dragon to make its lair, he couldn’t see anything. Down below, the hunters were already passing along the heather path with their dogs galloping ahead of them.
He was running out of time.
In a panic he rushed around, looking here and there. He kept slipping on the shale and falling down. Although the hunters were still quite some way down, he could hear the barking of the dogs carried up to the High Hill by the gushing wind. Then, in the rays of the rising sun, he saw a fleeting dark shadow streak across the rocks.
The dragon?
Wil looked up, and there she was, circling in the sky right above his head.
She swooped lower and lower with each circuit, powerful wings rising and falling. The hunters must have seen her too, because he heard their excited shouts as the barking of their dogs grew louder and more aggressive.
The dragon glided in low, almost skimming the jagged rocks, wings stretched wide and hind legs curled up at her sides. She flew right over Wil’s head, and the powerful downdraft knocked him down onto his back. He watched in amazement as her yellow underbelly passed swiftly over him. Quickly he rolled over in time to see her dive down behind a craggy outcropping.
There’s a cave behind there, thought Wil. The entrance is hidden. That’s why I couldn’t see it.
He scrambled to his feet and ran up the slope.
The hunters were gaining fast. But Wil was far better at running than he ever was at homework. He pushed himself onwards, slipping and skidding on the grey shale.
When he reached the outcrop he hauled himself up, arms straining. The wind went gusting about him as if it was trying to blow him clean off the High Hill. Scrapping his knees and his hands as he went, he tumbled down the other side.
And there, right in front of him, instead of the concealed entrance to a cave, stood the dragon. Large as life – ridged humps on her back, green scales on her hoary hide, wings folded neatly in at her sides. Growling menacingly, she turned to face him and bared her needle-sharp teeth.
As Wil jumped to his feet, her nostrils flared and puffs of white smoke billowed out. With a roar she lashed out with her barbed tail, sending tiny glistening shards of rock tumbling into the air.
He should have been afraid – but all he could think was how beautiful the dragon looked.
She drew a mighty breath and ran straight at him. He could hear the sharp clicking of the little stone organs in her throat striking together to make the spark that would ignite the fiery gas from her lungs. He realized how foolhardy he’d been. Any minute now he was going to be engulfed in a ball of flaming breath and burned to a crisp just as Ma had predicted.
Then he remembered what his Pa had told him to do if one of the rams ever charged at him when he was out tending the sheep. Every Low County father told his son or daughter the same thing—smack it hard on the snout!
Instead of trying to dodge out of the way of the dragon, Wil ran to meet her. He could see she was getting ready to breathe out. He raised his hand high, and as soon as he got close enough, he brought it down sharply onto the dragon’s gleaming black muzzle. A loud smack echoed off the rocks.
The dragon let out a howl of pain. A thick blast of hot air knocked Wil from his feet. Although the breath had not ignited in the back of her throat, Wil was still left dazed from the impact. Keening noisily, the dragon took flight, her wings tossing up eruptions of rock dust all around.
The hunters were already up on top of the craggy outcrop. Their dogs raced past Wil, snapping at the departing heels of the dragon. Two of the men fired off bolts from their crossbows. But the dragon was too fast for them. Up and up she went until she was just a green spec in the blue ocean of the sky.
“You’ll be in big trouble if she comes back,” warned one of the dragon hunters as they all crowded angrily around Wil.
Suddenly the dragon swooped back down at a terrifying speed. The dragon hunters were so surprised, they dove for cover. Wil stood his ground; somehow he knew that she wasn’t going to hurt him.
Hovering for a magnificent moment only a foot or two above him, the dragon dropped something from inside her mouth. Wil caught the object—a precious gemstone from the cave where she had made her lair—a gift for his selfless act in saving her life. Turning the glistening stone over in his hand, he watched as she rose once more and disappeared with her mighty wings unfurled into the misty swirl of a cloud.
“She won’t be back,” Wil told the dazed dragon hunters. Then smiling proudly, he popped the dragon’s gift into his pocket.
the end.
Question Time:
1. What had been spotted on the High Hill?
2. What did Wil hear the hunters talking about?
3. What happened when Wil found the dragon?
4. Why did the dragon give Wil a gift?
