Dragon Keeper

Cayla sat pale straight backed like a marble statue she'd seen once in a northern trade village, on the edge of the massive four-poster bed. The room she'd been given had luxuries she was not accustomed to, and as of the end of the day, she would never again have the chance to enjoy. She blinked looking down upon her laurel her long delicate clammy fingers pressed so tightly upon the thorny crown that blood began to mix red and rich with the russet colour turning it a burnt reddish brown.

Her blue eyes bore into the thorny laurel, staring at it as if it held some secret that would save her. Before long she thought she would die burned to death, and the crown she clasped in her pallid, now trembling, hands would be all that was left of her.

Would her mother cry as she had the day she was taken away all of those years before. A tear formed in Cayla's eyes, ‘I barely remember her face’. She had not thought of her mother's face in most of the years since she'd been taken away. She knew that her family lived within the village, but she was not allowed to visit with them. She'd been so young, barely out of her swaddling when they brought her here, a nurse told her the story as she soothed her to sleep each night stroking her golden curls.

This was how it had to be, ever since she was chosen at birth to be the Princess of Karema. Every year a child, a girl, born in the village is taken from their family and raised in a pure environment so that on their 16th birthday they would be offered to the Dragon of Karema. This child was known as the Princess of Karema. Cayla knew what a great offer it was to be chosen. It was a custom and the families of the chosen girls were greatly rewarded for their sacrifice.

She knew that she had to do this; she had been raised for this. Her people were counting on her. She knew that she could not question the village's traditions. They believed that only the pure soul of the princess would relieve their village from the horrors of the beast. If she did not go through with this, her birthright, then the Dragon of Karema would return, plunging her village into chaos and famine.

“It is time to go princess.” A man stood, straight and tall, at the foot of her bed. His brown eyes stared blankly ahead, not once looking down at the girl. Another man stood beside him. They were both dressed in brown leather pants and boots with a black shirt that had a red dragon embroidered into the chest of each shirt. Each carried a sword, which was placed in their sheaths that hung loosely around their waists.

Cayla slowly stood up, wiping her hands down her white dress, straightening all of the crinkles from the thin satin material. Her long brown hair carelessly fell over her shoulder in soft curls. She placed the laurel upon her head as the guards led her out of her room.

Cayla marched slowly through the village, trying to stop her arms from trembling as she walked by the onlookers, past the old wooden huts with the straw roofs, the tall oak tree withered and decrepit from age, and the blue lilies that she liked to pick in the spring evenings. Cayla forced a smile on her face, choking back her tears as she smelt the sweet scent of the flowers fill the air. The citizens anxiously looked at her, half with fear since they knew what was going to become of the young lady and half with relief. The sky turned a menacing shade of crimson as though the dragon was waiting for her or he would set his rampage free. Out of the corner of her eye Cayla spotted a man standing amongst the crowd. He kept his identity hidden behind the hood of his dark purple cloak. Cayla could see his green eyes intensely studying her as she moved towards the entrance to the cave, the cave that was said to be the home of this dragon.

"Why are you doing this?" the man called from the crowd.

The procession stopped and the guards turned to look at him.

“Do you dare interrupt this ritual?” one guard asked, his voice remaining calm and void of any emotions.

“Why are you doing this?” The man repeated his question, this time with more urgency in his tone.

“We have to please the Dragon,” the guard answered as he turned around, giving Cayla a soft push to continue walking.

“What dragon?” The man persisted. “I have never seen one.”

“The Dragon of Karema will return if we do not offer the pure sacrifice.” The guards turned their attention back to leading Cayla towards the cave.

The man looked on with discontent as the parade vanished into the dark tunnel. “This is not right,” the man muttered under his voice before disappearing.

***

The guards laid Cayla down upon a wooden table that was covered in a smooth black satin cloth. Gold words were scribbled over the cloth. Cayla could not read any of these words; they were written in a language that she did not understand. The cave was dimly lit with scattered candles. The red dirt walls blending into the dark shadows in the corner. A strong smell of sulphur and ash reached her nose making her sick in the pit of her stomach. The guards exited the cave with haste as four men emerged from the shadows of the cave. Each man wore a black robe that had the insignia of the dragon on the front, embroidered in red thread.

“Reshin Follick Taray,” the men repeated over and over again in voices barely above whispers as they moved closer to the table.

"Who are you?" Cayla looked at the men. Of all the stories she had heard about this ceremony, there was never any mention of them. Fear was spreading through her body as she suddenly realised that she was going to die upon that wooden table.

“Do not fear my child. We are the Priests of Karema, we will guide you through this ceremony.” One man slowly stroked his hand down the side of Cayla’s face. His hand felt coarse as he moved his hand off her face and down her body. Cayla shuddered at his touch, but she remained still on the table. The soft light of the cave casting shadows on his face. His grey eyes stared at her intently, hiding behind strands of black hair. Leaning in closer, he kissed her on the cheek. “It will be over soon.” The tone in his voice frightened Cayla. It had no sign of comfort or kindness; it was as cold and rough as his hand.

The other three men made a sudden lunge on Cayla. She tried to scream but choked it back as one man shoved his hand over her mouth. His hand had the overwhelming odour of cinders and blood that sent a dizzy feeling over Cayla.

Cayla tried to struggle, but the force of the men on top of her was too strong. The first man leaned in and kissed her violently on the lips, running his hands down her leg. She tried to struggle beneath their strong grips but she was paralysed by her fear. Grabbing her in his arms he tightly squeezed around her slender waist, ripping her dress from his violent moves. The other men smothered their hands all over her body. Not one inch of Cayla remained uncovered. She could barely breath. The short gasps for breath beneath the hot and sticky hand that remained over her face, stopping her cries for help.

Tears swelled in her eyes, blinding her vision. Cayla swung her legs and arms wildly in a sudden burst of adrenalin, trying to break the hold that her captors had over her. She closed her mouth tightly over the man’s hand, sinking her teeth deep in until she tasted the blood from his hand. Letting out a loud scream he moved it away in pain.

“Quiet you bitch.” The first man hit her across her eyes, knocking her to the edge of the table. “It will soon be over if you don’t struggle.”

Cayla sat up, holding her ripped dress strap up on her shoulder. Her body was trembling. Tears flowed from her eyes, but this did not matter much to the man. She could only sit and look at him. She had been raised for this moment, the moment when she must face her death, but she didn’t expect this. He pulled Cayla back down on her back. Cayla tried to fight, wood chips splintering her fingers as she tried to grab onto the wooden table, leaving a streak of blood behind as she was dragged back into place.

The man sat upon Cayla, a look of sadistic pleasure upon his face. Reaching into his robe he revealed a short dagger that had a dragon’s claw for the handle. Leaning close to her he gave her another powerful kiss, moving his kisses down her body, Cayla quivered as she felt the man’s mouth all over. “You are giving your life up for a worthy cause, and now it is time to end your suffering.” Sitting back up, he looked around at the others that were standing, waiting and watching, as the ceremony continued. “Give me the power of the dragon,” the man called out before plunging the dagger into her stomach.

Cayla could taste blood in her mouth. A sudden light-headed feeling swept over her as her eyes became heavy. No matter how hard Cayla tried to fight, they became like lead, slowly closing. Before they had closed a loud noise erupted, sending the men flying against the walls of the cave, the stranger leant over her, slowly lifting her into his gentle touch. Cayla’s eyes finally closed, plunging her into the depths of darkness…

***

Cayla sat up, startled. Looking around the room she could see that she was in a white tent. She was Lying on a pile of cotton and flowers. Soft sheets of silk were draped over her body. Cayla quickly pulled the sheet over her chest in alarm as she noticed her naked body. She tried to remember what had happened to her. She could recall the men in cloaks, the dagger, and then darkness. Looking down at her stomach she couldn't believe that there was no sign of a wound, or even a scar. All of the injuries that her body had sustained from the ritual were all gone. Her tender skin was smooth and clean, there was no sign that she had ever been involved in such a horrific ritual. She knew she should be scared but there was something about this place that soothed her fears. Whoever had been in the cave had saved her.

“Good your up.” The man entered the tent averting his eyes when he saw her sitting up in bed covered by nothing except the thin sheet, rubbing one hand through his sandy blonde hair with embarrassment. His lean body draped in the purple cloak, not able to hide his muscly physique. “I was starting to worry.”

“Where are my clothes?” Cayla asked in a tiny whimper, holding the sheet firmly against her bare chest.

“They were badly stained and soiled.” The stranger tried to answer as he spoke to the side of the tent. “My Master says it was all for the best. There are some clothes at the foot of your bed.”

“Thank you,” Cayla answered as she pulled on an oversize cotton shirt that draped down to her knees. “Who are you?” Cayla spoke softly as she ran her hand through her hair to straighten out the knots. Her eyes remaining fixated on the ground. "I... I am Cayla."

“My name is Nuncio,” Nuncio answered as he turned to look at the young maiden. A small smile spreading across his face as he looked upon her beauty. “I have brought you to my home.”

“Where is it?” Cayla asked as she moved closer to her rescuer.

“This is the land of Acalla,” Nuncio answered her as he led her out of the tent. “Nobody has ever been permitted to come here.”

Cayla looked out of the tent with astonishment at what she saw. The rough surface of a cave surrounded them, leading off into various passageways. This was no ordinary cave. A bright globe was alight from the ceiling as if the cave had its very own sun. Tiny saplings grew from the ground, a dark shade of grey with purple leaves. A small perfume of fruit danced around her nose. Music bounced off the walls of the cave, with the sound of children singing, but Cayla could not see any children, in fact she did not see anyone.

The ground gave a low grumble as footsteps could be heard from one passage. Cayla jumped behind Nuncio as the shadows slowly grew and revealed a dragon walking towards her. The red dragon, face wrinkled and dragging, wore a tiara of purple gems upon her head. The dragon looked at Cayla with her bright blue eyes, a look of happiness and fear could be seen deep within. Cayla slowly moved out from behind Nuncio, surprised that the dragon appeared to be frightened of her.

“This is Kiandra,” Nuncio announced with pride. “This is my master.”

“Ni…nice to meet you, I... I am Cayla” Cayla stuttered as she took a step away from the dragon. “Your master is a dragon?”

“You do not have to be afraid of her.” Nuncio smiled as he took her hand firmly in his and urged her to move towards the dragon.

“But dragons are dangerous,” Cayla whispered. She could remember hearing all of the tales of these beasts. None of the tales ever incorporated a nice dragon, only dragons that would swallow anyone in one single gulp.

“I have been raised by Kiandra, she is like my mother. Kiandra found me in the abandoned in the forest when I was only a baby, she brought me here and raised me. ” Nuncio explained. “I am known as the Dragon Keeper, the only human to have ever had contact with these magnificent beasts, that was until you came along.” Nuncio gave a smile at Cayla.

“I am so glad to see you up and well.” Kiandra spoke softly as she gave a smile that revealed a mouth full of sharp teeth. “Nuncio almost brought you to me too late.”

“Did you save me?” Cayla asked as she moved her gaze from Nuncio to Kiandra.

“I am the Dragon of Life,” Kiandra said as she leaned her face closer to Cayla’s. “I am the elder of this tribe and my gift is to heal, although that wound of yours was almost impossible to heal.”

“She was to be a part of a ritual,” Nuncio spoke up. “To protect the village from a dragon, but I don’t trust them.”

“It is a yearly sacrifice to protect my home from the Dragon of Karema,” Cayla informed the two. “We were told that dragons are suppose to be vicious beasts.”

“There is no such dragon,” Kiandra announced. “We would never do anything to harm the humans.”

“But why do you hide away down here then?” Cayla asked as she looked around the cave. The bright sun did light up the room a lot, but there was just something missing that only the true outdoors could provide. “What are you hiding from?”

“My kind has been tortured and killed by the land dwellers,” Kiandra answered, a silvery tear rolling down her cheek. “We have been driven underground, to remain a secret, we do not want any more trouble.”

"Humans believe that dragons like Kiandra are dangerous so they seek them out and kill them without any questions asked." Nuncio continued as he ran a smooth hand down Kiandra's body. "This is why they are here, nobody understands them so they are declared dangerous to society."

“I’m sorry,” Cayla apologised as she saw the hurt look in the old dragon’s eyes.

“It’s not your fault my child.” Kiandra lifted one hand and gently placed it on Cayla’s shoulder. “But why do they sacrifice a sweet girl each year?”

“I heard one call out something about the Power of the Dragon,” Nuncio recalled. “What does that all mean?”

“It isn’t a good thing,” Kiandra announced. “Only by soiling an innocent soul and drinking her blood can someone grasp the power of the dragon, that is a grievous crime no matter whether they are human or a dragon that seeks more power, it cannot be tolerated.”

Cayla looked around the cave as innocent laughter could be heard from the passages. The children that she had heard singing before came into sight. They were only tiny dragons, smaller than her. There was a blue dragon with gold strips along his back, a purple one with a crooked horn protruding from his nose, a yellow dragon with orange wings who was flying around the others with glee and a green dragon, who was smaller than the others, with tiny wings who remained hidden in the shadows.

Cayla moved towards this small dragon, with care not to frighten the creature off. “Don’t be scared of me,” Cayla stepped, one foot at a time, towards the trembling dragon.

“Do not hurt me.” The dragon quivered. “Mummy.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, my name is Cayla.” Cayla reached for the dragon, embracing the small creature in her arms. “Aren’t you just so cute.”

"I am Adelia." The dragon let out a slight giggle as she looked into Cayla’s eyes and relaxed when she noticed that Cayla was nothing to be scared of. “Can I keep her?” The small creature asked as Kiandra approached.

“That is enough Adelia,” Kiandra said in a strict voice. “You had better get back to the others, you do not want your mother to worry about you.”

The small dragon leapt out of Cayla’s arms and gave a playful jump before rushing after the other dragons.

“You have a pure heart.” Kiandra leant down besides Cayla. “Which is why we have to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” Cayla asked as she looked from Nuncio to Kiandra.

“These men that I have heard about will not rest until you are dead. It is said so in the ritual that the innocent must be put to death before they will be granted the full power of the dragon,” Kiandra indicated for Cayla to climb upon her back. Nuncio closely followed her.

“Why can’t we stay here?” Cayla asked as Kiandra spread her massive wings and took flight down one of the darkened tunnels and out into the bright daylight. The sun stung Cayla’s eyes as she tried to focus in the new light.

“Even though I must protect you, I cannot risk the safety of the rest of my kind,” Kiandra sadly spoke as she came to a soft landing in the middle of a forest. The trees swaying forlornly as Kiandra gave a solemn look at Cayla before moving her sight to Nuncio. Nuncio nodded as if Kiandra had spoken to him before she set off again.

“What are we suppose to do?” Cayla cried out in fear, tears starting to stream down her face. She didn’t want to have to face those men again.

“We have to go back to your village and make your people listen to what they’re doing.” Nuncio took her in his arms, letting her cry on his shoulder until she had calmed down. “There is no other way.”

***

Slowly they made their way back to the village. Everything was silent as they approached. Cayla tried to hold back a scream as her home came into view. Cayla shut her eyes tightly and then opened them again. She wanted this to all be a dream. Her people’s homes were ablaze with fire. Bodies were strewn across the ground, mangled and bloodied that she could not even recognise anyone. Nuncio tightly embraced Cayla so that she would not look at what had become of her village. Cayla flinched as he put his arm around her. Fear had crept into the pit of her stomach, she didn't know what she was going to do. She didn't know whom to trust.

“I thought you said the dragon did not exist,” Cayla screamed at Nuncio, fighting to keep her tears back.

“This has not been done by any dragon,” Nuncio assured her as he covered her eyes. “Please do not look at it.”

Maniacal laughter shattered the silence. Cayla slowly turned around to see the face that had been like a nightmare. The same man that had tried to kill her stood in front of her, laughing at the slaughter that had occurred. Cayla could only stare at this man with pure hatred filling her eyes.

“They got what they deserved,” the man yelled with delight. “And may I say thank you for bringing her back to me.” The man reached out his hand and a ball of flames ignited in the palm of his hand. As the man threw it at Cayla and Nuncio they were forced to dive out of the road, going in different directions.

The other men jumped from the bushes, grabbing a hold of Cayla. “She has been healed Doray,” one screamed out as he ran his hands up and down her body with a wicked smile on his face.

“Where have you been?” Doray asked with a grin before focusing his attention on Nuncio. “First I’ll deal with you and then I’ll get the girl.”

“You’ll never acquire the power of the dragon,” Nuncio screamed back at him, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Can’t you see that I already have the power,” Doray snickered as he coldly moved towards Nuncio. “I just need to finish the ritual to gain immortality.”

In a quick instant Doray had flung himself off the ground and was now in flight, heading toward Nuncio. Nuncio had no time to move before Doray hit him, knocking him back into the tree.

Doray stood over the unconscious form of Nuncio, igniting a fireball in his hand. Doray laughed as he pulled his arm back in dramatic fashion, preparing to fire the flaming ball at the fallen challenger.

“Stop it!” Cayla screamed out, choking on the tears that were flowing down her face. The taste of salt water filled her mouth. “Please you have me, leave him alone.”

Doray smirked as he slowly walked towards Cayla. He signalled for his men to lay her down on the ground. “You are lucky I like you,” Doray smiled as he leaned closer to her. “You have been the only girl to have any kind of fight, and I like that.”

Doray signalled for the other men to move away as he ripped her top open. “I can handle this.”

“But what about just finishing the ritual?” One man asked as he backed off, a look of doubt spreading across his face.

“I am just having some fun before we have to kill her,” Doray smiled as he looked upon her naked form, his sweaty hands sliding all over her cold and dirty body. His strong body lay upon her. Only rage flooded her body this time. He had slaughtered all of her people, he had lied to everyone and now he wanted to kill her because he just wanted some power. She had had enough of him, she was not going to let him get away with this. Cayla stared at Doray’s robe. She could remember back to the last time they were in this position. She knew what she must do, and she only had one chance to do it.

Doray moved his lips all over her; his focus was distracted from what her hands were doing. Cayla reached for the dagger that she knew he kept in his robe. She tried to ignore the pain that was rushing through her body as his fingernails pierced her skin as he tightly held her. His kisses tasted bitter as she tried to avoid them. Cayla gave a small smile as she felt her hands touch the dagger, leaning her body up so she could move her hands over the dagger, taking it firmly in her hands. Doray let out a cry of delight as he thought she was enjoying herself. Cayla closed her eyes as she forced the dagger into his chest.

Doray sat up, staring at disbelief at the dagger that was protruding from his body. Staggering back he collapsed on the rocky ground, limp and lifeless. Cayla sat up, her body trembling as she pulled her shirt back together. Looking up at the other men they could only stare at her in disbelief before they ran deep into the forest. Cayla watched as they vanished from her sight before she moved over to Nuncio, who still remained an unconscious lump in front of the tree.

“Nuncio,” Cayla cried as she shook him furiously. “Nuncio.”

Nuncio slowly opened his eyes, rubbing his head. Seeing Cayla and her new attire he quickly turned his head, taking off his shirt and passing it to her. “You have done it.”

“But my people,” Cayla could only say in a voice barely above a whisper. “Where am I to go?”

“Join me,” Nuncio announced, taking her by the hand. “It is the perfect retreat for people like us, people with no home, no one who wants them.”

Nuncio pulled her in close to his warm body and kissed her gently on the lips. Nuncio gave her a smile and embraced her as sudden fog rolled in and when the fog was gone there was no sign of either of them. The flames slowly stopped burning over the village as a sudden down pour started, leaving just smouldering ashes where the village used to stand, with no signs of survivors or anything that indicated that a stranger had ever been there.