Home Game: Walking on Eggshells
At dusk I took off my shoes and slipped barefoot into the cave entrance. I could hear the distant rumble of the beast's snoring. When dragons are sleeping, it's better to be safe than sorry. She didn't wake. I was lucky. I'm mostly lucky, now. I think I used up all my bad luck in one go, when the tablet with my name on it was drawn from the sacrificial urn.
This isn't how I planned for my life to go. I was a goldsmith's apprentice, once, with one eye on a stall in Howe Square and the other on the hunky blacksmith across the street. But that was before the year of the sacrifice.
It's an old tradition, as old as our town, maybe. Every year in May, children run shreiking through the streets with their little dragons on sticks, cloth tails streaming behind them. There's feasting and dancing and of course drinking. And every 17 years, a sacrifice is chosen to be staked out for the dragons. Sometimes they're still there in the morning, having spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night tied to a rock. And sometimes they're gone.
I was selling paper-thin gold leaf to a chocolate maker when I heard the shouting. Half the neighbourhood came pouring into the shop, with Gloreilei somewhere in the middle ranting about the theft of her apprentice. The noise all stopped and everyone looked at me, solemnly, as she handed me the blue token.
"It's you, Flory," she said.
I thought then that there was a fifty percent chance of dying horribly and a fifty percent chance of returning home and taking up my life uninterrupted. I never expected what really happened.
The moment before the dragon appeared was the most terrifying part. I could hear it slithering towards me in the night, as I lay helpless. Then it thrust its head into my line of sight and I stopped breathing.
The dragon was beautiful. Its scales glittered purple in the moonlight, irridescent as dragonfly wings. It was smaller than I'd expected, about the size of a horse. It raised one curving claw and cut the ropes that bound me. It gathered me up, careful not to pierce me, and carried me away to its cave by the sea.
I'd been living in the cave for three years now. Malverna was prickly and affectionate by turns, pleased with her clever human pet who could twist gold into gorgeous dragon-sized pieces. We'd come to an understanding, the dragon and I.
But she was always pricklier at this time of year. Crunch crunch. I looked down. Fragments of pale blue eggshell freckled my feet. Oh, this was not a good sign. I sighed. It was time to face the dragon in her den.
"Malverna!" I called, well before reaching her chamber. I'd startled her from sleep once, early on, and ended up with a second degree burn on my arm. "Wake up! We need to talk!"
She grumbled out puffs of steam as I slipped inside.
"What is this?" I demanded, holding out a large chunk of eggshell.
Malverna twined her long neck around, looking awfully sheepish for a dragon, and said nothing.
"It's an eggshell." I answered my own question. "This has got to stop. Look at you. You're so pale you're practically mauve. You're peaky. You mope around all night. I don't want to have to wonder if you're going to literally snap my head off after all. You have got to do something about this."
Malverna let out a small high-pitched whining noise, like the world's biggest mosquito.
"Oh, don't go all tea kettle," I said.
"But I don't want to go!" said Malverna all at once.
"It's time," I said. "It's just time. Look, you're so beautiful. I'll polish your scales with that nice oil, and you can wear the diadem I made you, and I swear if any dragon doesn't fall at your feet, I'll- I'll clip his idiotic claws! I will! Don't laugh!"
Malverna was chuckling in that silent dragon way.
"I surrender," she said. "Very well. We will go to the Match Day."
This isn't how I planned for my life to go. I was a goldsmith's apprentice, once, with one eye on a stall in Howe Square and the other on the hunky blacksmith across the street. But that was before the year of the sacrifice.
It's an old tradition, as old as our town, maybe. Every year in May, children run shreiking through the streets with their little dragons on sticks, cloth tails streaming behind them. There's feasting and dancing and of course drinking. And every 17 years, a sacrifice is chosen to be staked out for the dragons. Sometimes they're still there in the morning, having spent an uncomfortable and sleepless night tied to a rock. And sometimes they're gone.
I was selling paper-thin gold leaf to a chocolate maker when I heard the shouting. Half the neighbourhood came pouring into the shop, with Gloreilei somewhere in the middle ranting about the theft of her apprentice. The noise all stopped and everyone looked at me, solemnly, as she handed me the blue token.
"It's you, Flory," she said.
I thought then that there was a fifty percent chance of dying horribly and a fifty percent chance of returning home and taking up my life uninterrupted. I never expected what really happened.
The moment before the dragon appeared was the most terrifying part. I could hear it slithering towards me in the night, as I lay helpless. Then it thrust its head into my line of sight and I stopped breathing.
The dragon was beautiful. Its scales glittered purple in the moonlight, irridescent as dragonfly wings. It was smaller than I'd expected, about the size of a horse. It raised one curving claw and cut the ropes that bound me. It gathered me up, careful not to pierce me, and carried me away to its cave by the sea.
I'd been living in the cave for three years now. Malverna was prickly and affectionate by turns, pleased with her clever human pet who could twist gold into gorgeous dragon-sized pieces. We'd come to an understanding, the dragon and I.
But she was always pricklier at this time of year. Crunch crunch. I looked down. Fragments of pale blue eggshell freckled my feet. Oh, this was not a good sign. I sighed. It was time to face the dragon in her den.
"Malverna!" I called, well before reaching her chamber. I'd startled her from sleep once, early on, and ended up with a second degree burn on my arm. "Wake up! We need to talk!"
She grumbled out puffs of steam as I slipped inside.
"What is this?" I demanded, holding out a large chunk of eggshell.
Malverna twined her long neck around, looking awfully sheepish for a dragon, and said nothing.
"It's an eggshell." I answered my own question. "This has got to stop. Look at you. You're so pale you're practically mauve. You're peaky. You mope around all night. I don't want to have to wonder if you're going to literally snap my head off after all. You have got to do something about this."
Malverna let out a small high-pitched whining noise, like the world's biggest mosquito.
"Oh, don't go all tea kettle," I said.
"But I don't want to go!" said Malverna all at once.
"It's time," I said. "It's just time. Look, you're so beautiful. I'll polish your scales with that nice oil, and you can wear the diadem I made you, and I swear if any dragon doesn't fall at your feet, I'll- I'll clip his idiotic claws! I will! Don't laugh!"
Malverna was chuckling in that silent dragon way.
"I surrender," she said. "Very well. We will go to the Match Day."