Konge av Drager!

    My body was feeling the aches and pains of having done battle with orcs the previous day. Last night's sleep was filled with strange dreams. Awakening early, just before dawn, I felt somewhat apprehensive. I quickly sat up and scanned the area for any signs of trouble. A good warrior be always on the alert you know. Nothing out of the ordinary was happening as far as I could tell, so I broke camp and headed out within the hour. My travels were unhindered and leisurely throughout the day. But now as I ventured, dusk was upon me; the e'ening drawing nearer with each stride. A place for my campsite needed to be chosen.

    As I rounded the roadway's bend the distinct sound of a lute was heard. And there, mayhaps twenty feet ahead, was a manned encampment. Of course I was curious. Stealthily I approached the male that strummed the musical instrument. He was an adept one for sure. Not only a bard, but a warrior; wearing the attire and weapons of a fighter. He heard my quiet approach. Without looking up he welcomed me, offering food and drink if I chose to partake of it. He seemed friendly enough, yet I continued to remain on my guard.

    After introducing myself I thanked him kindly for his hospitality, asking if I could remain by his campfire o'er night. Pleased by my request, he agreed. He e'en amused me by singing unusual "ditties" about others. But the most fascinating was the following song played as I laid down to rest . . .

    I awaken to the dimness of the moon,
    Its pale light seeps into my lair.
    I can feel the chill of the night,
    I relish the vibrance brought by the air.
    Peering out into the night,
    I see the all too familiar stars.
    I make my way out from my depths,
    And hurl myself into the night
    I unfurl my wings with great torrents of wind,
    Thundering my way into the heavens.

    Welcoming the enveloping dark,
    The moistness in the air, clings to my hide.
    I glide into the moonlit clouds,
    As my shadow reflects upon them.
    With my great wings extended,
    I soar through the chill night air.
    Peering below me, searching the earth,
    I seek out my quarry, my prey.
    For nearly a millennia have I been on the hunt,
    But now I hunt a beast of a different sort.

    With my nostrils flared, I catch the scent,
    Of an ignoble knight alone on the moor.
    With silent wings I make my approach,
    From the moonlit clouds, I draw my stealth.
    Approaching from behind this hapless mortal,
    I alight the ground with silent grace.
    I now draw in a great deep breath,
    And roar with frightful delight.
    With fiery breath I besiege this man,
    My talons squeeze him from his life.

    As him and his ilk have taken those of mine,
    From this life, as they wallow in ignorance.
    Mortals have slain us, as I have this,
    For us they feared and felt dread.
    The shallowness of men shows through,
    For they had no reason, or thought for this.
    Again is heard my battle call,
    As I make my way into the night sky.
    With remorse for my kind,
    I cry out over and again, for I know,
    None are there, to answer my cry.

    Alone in this world, I live out my life,
    To repay mortal men, for my strife.

    . . . That final sweet chord hung softly in the cool e'ening air. As I closed my eyes and slowly drifted toward that wonderful land of slumber I asked for his name. He quietly replied ... 'Rex.'

    Back to Shy's Lodge

    Dracaenas Rex © 1999 L. Jones.
    All rights reserved