Jargos

by Resha Caner

Chapter 1: Worm Hunter

part 2 of 2

Ena was still in her nightgown. She stood motionless before the pile of smoking ashes, her face streaked with the sooty remnants of tears. The back of her nightgown looked normal, but the front was peppered with small holes where flying embers had burned their way through. A bucket sat empty by each foot, waiting to be filled with water and tossed on the flames. The flames no longer existed. Only ashes and smoke were before her.

Hach had gone to beg the Thane for help. They would get no help from the village. No one liked a potter who would not make idols. The Vaanou had cursed them.

Jargos looked out from the yard to the lake on the other side of the village. He could see the forest standing on the far shore and rising up the slopes into the mountains.

“I’ll bet the dragon came from the mountains,” he said.

“Jargos, please.”

“But...”

“It was a meteor, Jargos, not a dragon.” Her voice was heavy with complete exhaustion. “The workhouse was struck by a meteor. It happens sometimes. I saw one fall near the lake a long time ago when I was a little girl. It happens. The Vaanou didn’t send it.”

“How do you know that?” Jargos asked. “Don’t you believe in the Vaanou, Ena?”

“I’ve never seen one,” she responded. Leaning over, she turned one of the buckets upside down and sat with a grunt, sagging until it seemed she would not be able to balance. “I know it seems strange, Jargos. It confuses me too. What is up there, beyond the clouds? Why did the meteor glow so strangely?” She stared up at the sky for a moment, contemplating. “I’m not going to say they don’t exist, but I don’t see why they would bother with a poor potter.”

“But,” Jargos spoke with puzzlement, “then why would God bother with a poor potter... or a little boy?”

“Oh, Jargos.” Though it did not seem possible, Ena sagged even lower.

“Ena,” Lise emerged from the sleeping shack.

It was more than the battered woman could take, and she began to sob.

Jargos walked to the shack and put a hand on Lise’s shoulder, stooping slightly to look into her eyes. “Ena is tired,” he said.

“But I’m hungry.”

“In a few minutes.” Ena rose from the bucket and disappeared inside the sleeping shack. Lise trailed after. Jargos followed her to retrieve Hach’s bow and quiver.

“I’m going hunting, Ena,” he declared.

His mother gave him a weak wave as she pulled some greens from a pot stashed in a hole in the floor.

As he stepped out of the sleeping shack, Jargos observed the sagging adobe walls of the workhouse. The roof was collapsed inward like a great funnel, diving down toward the oven. Curiosity overtook him, and he began to stack buckets near one of the walls until he could peer inside. The meteor lay smoking at the bottom of the crater.

He tried to reach out with an arrow, then with the bow, but it was too far away. He climbed back down and found a pile of rope lying next to the well. Stringing it to an arrow, he climbed back onto the pile of buckets, and took aim into the crater. It took all the strength he had to pull the bow a few centimeters. He let go of the arrow, and it flopped down into the ashes only half a meter away. He pulled it back, nocked the arrow, and tried again. This time it went farther, but wide.

On his third try he shot into the air. The arrow arched outward and upward, hung over the crater for a few unnatural moments, and then plunged downward. Jargos saw the fletching shudder as the tip struck something and stood fast. He yelped with joy, and began to reel in the rope. The fletching of the arrow came over the top of the crumbled adobe, then the shaft, and finally the tip. Jargos stopped to stare at the object skewered on the end for a moment. As he looked, the strange orb came loose and fell to the ground. It gave a heavy, hollow thump and didn’t bounce, but made a dent in the ground.

Jargos climbed down from the buckets, and approached the sphere cautiously with the rope still in his hand. A soft skin, torn in places, still covered part of the orb. Beneath the skin, the surface was blackened by fire, dented, scratched, but not cracked. He took a step toward it, then two. Suddenly the orb vibrated violently. Jargos dropped the rope and ran. He reached the door of the sleeping shack and stopped. He would not scream like Lise. He was not a little boy. He would do this. He turned and looked at the orb again.

Cautiously he approached until he could reach the orb. He gave the rope a tug. It vibrated again.

“It’s alive!” he yelled, but this time Jargos didn’t run. His eyes began to widen as the thought continued to grow. It’s a dragon’s egg!! Jargos’ head snapped back to view the skies above. A dragon had dropped one of its eggs! It would come back!

Without thinking Jargos scooped up the egg and began running for the mountains. He had to take it back to the dragon’s cave. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know if he would ransom his family’s life or make friends with the dragon or collect a reward of gold and silver. He didn’t know where a dragon’s cave could possibly be. He didn’t know if the worm would be so ugly that sight of it would turn him to stone, or if the beast would roast him with a blast from its nostrils or if it would simply step on him and squash him. He just knew the egg had to be returned. It had to leave the village. He had to get it away from Ena and Lise.

As Jargos entered the village, the egg vibrated in his hands. He skidded to a stop, staring at the egg in horror. Was it about to hatch? A small circle of people stood less than ten meters away, but they were not looking at Jargos. They were looking at the ground.

A beam of light erupted from Jargos’ egg and shot between two of the bystanders, disappearing into a crater at their feet. The crowd fell back with gasps and screams.

“Another egg!” Jargos shouted.

Without thinking, he dashed to the crater to find his egg connected to a second by the beam of light. The crowd continued to fall back. Jargos had set his mind. He seized the second egg and ran.

He ran through the village away from the screams. He ran through the forest and around the lake. His lungs constricted and pulled his chest inward. They begged for air and made his muscles ache. His legs grew heavy. The eggs grew heavy. They shook more and more frequently in his hands. The buzzing made his fingers grow numb.

He couldn’t run anymore. His side ached. He went to his knees, pressing a hand to his ribs. One of the eggs rolled from his grasp.

The land sloped upwards toward the mountains. He rose, recovered the loose egg, and climbed onto a barren rocky ridge overlooking the lake.

The wind picked up, and Jargos could smell the mist it carried off the lake up the mountain. Then he stopped to ponder. Something was wrong. The direction of the wind was wrong. At this time of year it should be coming down off the mountain, over the lake, and toward the village. He looked up toward the clouds. The pink and amber strands above his head were swirling and churning over each other. It wasn’t the darkness of an approaching storm, yet wind moved the clouds. The dragon!

Jargos dropped the eggs and prepared to run. The orbs buzzed again. They were calling the dragon! The eggs were bringing the dragon here! Again the beams of light connected the two eggs, but this time they also shot brilliant shafts into the depths of the lake. What? A third egg?

He looked about himself on the ground and spotted a large, flat stone. He picked it up and threw it at one of the eggs. It bounced off harmlessly. Then he recalled how it had fallen from the sky and was still intact. Setting the egg on the flat stone, he seized the heaviest stone he could lift. Carrying it over his head, he brought it down on the egg. Over and over he struck. Slowly he began to dent the egg. He beat and beat upon the shell, smashing it into a flatter and flatter shape. Finally it burst open and the contents spilled out upon the ground. The shafts of light disappeared.

Jargos stared at the material in amazement. It was nothing he had ever seen before. A mass of silvery material was covered over in thick strings of all different colors and bright spots blinked yellow and red and green.

Above him he heard a low, distant rumble. The dragon was upon him! The rumble grew and focused down on him. The deep roar shook his chest. The air shuddered in his ears. He scooped the mass of broken egg up from the stone and cast it over the cliff into the lake. Then he sent the second egg after it.

As Jargos watched the orb arching away from him, the surface of the water was whipped into waves and the beast broke the ceiling of cloud. It too, was nothing Jargos could ever have imagined. It was long and sleek and had a silvery skin. Long thin wings swept back from the body. It had no eyes, but it seemed a mask of blackness swept across the face and one single horn pierced the air before its nose.

The air crackled, and Jargos’ heart took only one beat before the thing had swept across the entire lake, racing for the cliff. The boy instinctively dropped to the ground to hold on as the earth leapt and tried to throw him into the angry and surging waters below. The creature shuddered terribly, and tried to turn as it dropped silvery claws that had been tucked against its body.

The maneuver was unsuccessful, and the worm smashed into the wall of the cliff below him. Flames roared toward the clouds, burning air and rock and sky. Jargos felt heat washing across him in waves, followed by the pelting of small rocks. He rolled and plucked at the burning magma, beating at his skin where it burned him. His throat hurt, and he realized he was screaming, but his ears could not register the sound. Everything was mushy and rushed and pulsed inside his head. He scurried backward up the slope to move farther and farther back from the dragon.

The dragon did not pursue him. His screams slowly began to trail off, and he stopped, dumb. He was shaking so terribly he could not stand. His fear gripped him. He began to crawl forward again, and suddenly he knew why. He needed to see the dragon. He needed to know what was coming after him. He reached the edge of the cliff.

The flames had started to die down, but the rock was still hot. He peered down below. The creature lay crumpled against the cliff. The horn was broken and the nose was smashed. The wings were bent. Was it dead? Why had it smashed itself against the cliff? Then he remembered the egg. Had it been trying to catch the egg? Was it trying to snatch it’s wounded foundling from the air? Had it misjudged its flight?

Jargos looked one more time at the smashed dark band across the face. It looked as if glass had cracked and fallen away to reveal the innards of the creature. He could see nothing but black smoke pouring from the interior. The silver exterior did not look like skin. It reminded him of the armor worn by the Thane.

Through the air, shimmering with searing heat, he could make out markings on the armor. He drew a gasp. This was not just any dragon. This was the King Dragon, sent by the Vaanou.

Jargos stood. He saw movement from the village. They were coming toward him. His ears were still mushy, but he could make out shouts. Not shouts of anger, but shouts of celebration. He stood tall. He was no longer a boy. He was Jargos, Worm Hunter.

To be continued...