The Bargain

By Nicholas J. Perry




"Dragons! They said they're going to fight dragons, save the country-side," Royston Mithers said as he walked alone toward his orchards. "Hah! There are no dragons in all Turano, not since I was a young warrior and Kirman and I fought in the Dragon Wars. Then there were dragons. Big dragons. But we drove them out of this land. I know. I myself helped kill one."

The old man had been talking to himself like this for days. Ever since his nephew and other farm help left to fight a "dragon" in the next town. Now, just as the apples needed to be harvested. The farmer continued mumbling to himself as he approached a hill overlooking his orchards.

"Young people today just don't know anything. I told them a thousand times. There are no more dragons in Turano, but they wouldn't believe me. My own son would have known better. He was a wise boy, before the fever took him." The recent silence and emptiness of the farm had caused the old farmer to reflect often upon his long-dead son. As Royston approached the crest of the hill, he murmured, "Why won't they listen to me when I tell them that all the dragons are gone from Turano?"

"How do you know that all the dragons are gone?" asked a voice.

"Because we chased them out during the Dragon Wars," Royston answered without thinking. He had been talking to the air for so many days that he was not immediately surprised when the air seemingly answered him. "Hey, who said that?" he asked after a moment.

A deep voice on the other side of the hill answered, "I did."

Royston raced over the top of the hill to see a gold-colored dragon amid his apple trees. The beast's gigantic body was laying between two rows of trees, stretching out over forty feet from head to tail. Its head was looking right at Royston as smoke rolled from the corners of its fanged mouth. Its golden scales shone brightly in the early morning sun.

Royston was taken aback by this most unexpected sight. "A . . . a . . . dragon," he mumbled. The man just stared at the beast, carefully avoiding the dragon's eyes. He knew, of course, the magical powers of the eyes of a dragon.

"Yes, you are not blind yet, old man," the dragon calmly replied. "Let me introduce myself. I am Kalabar of the Golden Flame."

Royston had never heard of a dragon introducing himself. The man stuttered, "I . . . am . . . Royst . . ."

"Yes, I know," interrupted the dragon abruptly. "You are Royston Mithers, farmer and once a warrior."

"You know who I am?" answered Royston. "And you know I fought in the Dragon Wars?"

"The Dragon Wars?" hissed Kalabar disgustedly. "That's what you call them, but they were nothing more than an aggressive land grab. You forced us off our land and killed our hatchlings. Some war! A war of extermination! We were just trying to protect ourselves." The dragon's eyes flashed a deep red and smoke billowed from the corners of his mouth.

"So you came here to get your revenge?" Royston asked, planting his feet in the ground and trying not to show how scared he really was. "I might not be as easy to kill as you think," he boasted, half-heartedly.

"Oh please," the dragon snorted. "I've heard that song many times. The old warrior comes back to fight the nasty dragon and, in a horrible struggle, kills the beast. That's the oldest song in the world. It never happened. It never will happen. And it won't happen today. You don't expect me to believe that you're going to kill me, you weak old man, armed with your apple bags? You don't even believe it yourself."

Royston stepped back and said quietly, "I've helped kill a dragon before."

"Yes, I know. That is why I came to see you."

Royston whimpered, "So you came to take your revenge?"

"Nay, I am not here to seek vengeance," Kalabar said coldly. "If I were, you would already be dead. I am here for another purpose."

"Another purpose? What other purpose?"

"I have come to trade with you. I want something you have."

"I'm but a poor farmer," Royston said. "All I have is this little bit of land and a small cottage. I haven't even a family, other than my lazy nephew. My son died years ago, his mother before that."

"It's not the land. My kind has almost been exterminated trying to keep worthless pieces of land like this. As for your family, I too have lost those who were dear to me. I desire neither your land nor your people. What I want is from your mind."

"My mind? But I'm a farmer. I haven't got much schooling. I've read few books."

"Not your knowledge," Kalabar said. "What I want is in your memory. Your memory of the dragon you helped kill during the extermination wars."

"Why do want to know my memory of the dragon that attacked Kirman's and I's company of warriors?"

"Hah!" retorted the dragon with a flash of flame and smoke. "I've heard about how the brave Kirman and his men were attacked by a giant dragon. How you fought back to protect the cities of Turano from this raiding beast. How you worked together to slay this giant. Oh, I've heard those damnable songs. But, listen here old man, I know more than your farm hands or the minstrels at the beer hall. I know what really happened to Kirman's company."

"But we were attacked by the red dragon on the road from the city," protested Royston.

"Oh please, you've been telling that lie for over fifty years now. I know it's not true. You came across a sleeping dragon by accident, and only because the brave Kirman had lost the whole company in the woods trying to avoid danger. When you finally recovered from the shock of seeing a dragon, you charged and killed her before she could wake and defend herself. That is how Kirman's men killed the dragon."

It was true, of course. Royston just looked at the ground. All he could think to say was, "How did you learn this?"

"I've known most of it for decades. I investigated the forest where you murdered her. At the spot where you killed her I saw dragon's blood, and only dragon's blood. It was obvious that you surprised her and not on the road. The last few details I just learned from old Halston."

"Halston? He and I are the only surviving members of Kirman's company."

"No," corrected the dragon, "you and Halston were the only surviving members. I killed him yesterday."

"You killed Halston? Why?" said Royston. Fear and anger fought to control his impulses. Fear won a partial victory, and he slunk behind a nearby tree.

"I had my reasons. First of all, he helped kill my mate," answered the dragon.

"Your mate?" asked Royston from behind the tree.

"Yes, my mate. That dragon you slaughtered fifty-two years ago is my mate, Radimar the Red!"

After a long pause, Royston whispered, "So now you've come to kill me?"

"No, you senile old man," the dragon hissed. "As I told you, if revenge were what I wanted, I would have already killed you. I want to trade with you for your memory."

"But I don't remember much of that long ago day," said Royston.

"Probably because you, Halston, and all the rest have been telling the same lie for all those years."

"Listen here, farmer, this is what I want," the dragon continued. "Both human and dragon minds store images of events long after they occurred. While dragons have perpetual access to these visions, forgotten images are inaccessible to humans. I can reach images in your mind, if you let me look into your eyes."

Royston asked, "If dragons can remember the past so clearly, why do you need to go digging in my memory?"

"Images of the past are important to dragons. We live in the past through the images in our minds. This is especially true now that we have been removed from most of our lands of old. I want to examine your mind for memories of my dear Radimar."

"That is why you want to use your evil dragon magic on me?"

"I am willing to trade for the memory," answered Kalabar. "I can give a treasure more valuable than a decade's worth of fruit from these scrawny apple trees."

"I bet Halston was not willing to enter such an accursed bargain."

"You are correct, old man. I offered him a good deal, but he refused and I killed him." The dragon flashed his long, pointed fangs as he spoke. "To look into your eyes, I need your permission. Will you trade for it?"

"Why do you need permission?"

"To reach your inner visions, you must consent. Without your acquiescence, I can only see what is most prominent in your mind."

"You can read my mind without my permission!" Royston said angerly. "So you know what I'm thinking now?"

"I know you're scared of me, but I can tell that because you are visibly shaking and hiding behind that tree."

After an embarrassing pause, the man asked, "Why do want to see my . . . ah . . . inner memories?"

"I am not a young dragon," Kalabar said sadly, with only a wisp of smoke rising from his mouth. "I will soon be dead, but I want to depart with the last images of my mate in my mind. I want to be able to see her life from our mating as nestlings until right before her death at your hands. Also it is possible that she sent me a message through the eyes of her killers. That is why I want to look into your inner memory and retrieve your vision of my Radimar."

The dragon spoke so mournfully that Royston started to feel pity for the beast. Yet after a further thought, pity turned to anger at the death of Halston, then to fear; it was a dragon, after all. Eventually Royston asked, "You expect me to feel sorry for you, after all you and your kind have done?"

"No," retorted the dragon, "I've dealt with humans for too long to ever expect sympathy. What I expect is greed. I am here to offer you this." Kalabar stretched out a front claw to reveal a gigantic ruby.

Royston walked from behind the tree to stare at the red gem shining in the dragon's golden talons. The gem's facets glowed in the sunshine. It was three and a half inches in diameter, the largest ruby Royston had ever seen, or even heard of; he had no doubts that it was the greatest ruby in all Turano.

Royston said, "That is worth more than all the farms here in the valley. You . . . will . . . give me . . . that . . . for letting you . . . look into . . . my eyes?"

"Yes," replied the dragon, "if you let me look into your inner memories I will give this to you."

"Just for the images in my mind?"

"Images to dragons are more than the visual scenes of the past; they speak to our inner spirit. They allow us to feel the past as if we were there."

"Why should I trust you?" the man queried. "I mean, how will I know you won't get what you want and then take the ruby, and how do I know that I won't be hurt by this magic?"

"As to your concerns about my not meeting my end of the bargain, I'll give it to you before I look. Of course, if you don't let me look, I will kill you." Royston was not much comforted by this answer. The dragon continued, "With your permission, I can look into your mind and pull out any inner memory without affecting you. Then I can put that memory in my mind's foreground, where it will always appear fresh. You will not be harmed, nor will your memory be impacted."

An idea occurred to Royston. He asked, "Could you put a buried vision from my inner memory to the, ah, foreground of my mind?"

"Well, yes," Kalabar answered, "I could, but why? You humans don't value memories like dragons do."

"That may be, but you misjudge humans if you think memories and images have no value to us. They can even touch our inner spirits at times." Royston had made up his mind. He was going to agree, if the dragon would accept his terms. #############

Later that morning, Kalabar of the Golden Flame flew up from the orchard. In his mind were fresh images of his beloved Radimar the Red. He was going to die, but he could go to that final rest with images of his mate's complete life in his mind, as well as a final message from her.

Royston Mithers walked away from the orchard a short time later. In his mind was an image of his long-dead son. He had almost forgotten what his only child looked like, but now he could see his son as the 10 year old played shortly before the deadly fever came. This continually fresh memory made him feel as he had all those years ago. He walked to his cottage with a smile on his lips as he thought of his son. In his hand, Royston carried a ruby, which added to his smile.

The End

© 1999 by Nicholas J. Perry

Bio:Nicholas J. Perry lives in Falls Church, Virginia with his wife and 4 cats. He is an Attorney Advisor with the Executive Office for Immigration Review, United States Department of Justice and is a graduate of the University of Notre Dame and North Carolina Central School of Law. He has published both fiction and non-fiction in the Minas Tirith Evening Star: The Journal of the American Tolkien Society.

E-mail: njperry@erols.com

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