Normal 0 Sly

A dragon’s tale

The Vary First Chapter Of A Vary Strange Story.

            Birds sang up above Horatio’s head as he rode up a steep grassy mountain that had thick oak trees growing all around. His long brown hair and hard features were typical of a knight and his strong arms and stature were as well. His intense bue eyes fixed ahead.

            He rode at a steady walk. The sound of a waterfall was distant but apparent and the landscape around him was beautiful… but he knew better. He knew better than to let the calm atmosphere distort his knowledge about the old mansion on the mountainside.

            “Do not be fooled,” He spoke to his horse in a British accent. “This place is surrounded by demons.” 

            Horatio pulled back on the reins and came to a halt in front of a tall black metal gate that was hinged on a gray stonewall that seemed to go on for ever either way he looked.

            He dismounted his horse and drew his sword, the blade shone when the light caught its edge. Soon, very soon; it would be covered in blood.

            Horatio took a few steps forward then stopped and turned to his horse. “Await my return, Shield” He stroked Shield’s white neck once then continued towards the eerie gait.

            He reached it and hesitated. Taking a deep breath in, Horatio pointed the tip of his sword up and grasped the hilt in both hands with the blade aligned with his forehead and chin. Eyes set to kill; he walked through the gait’s ebony bars.

            “You’re so serious.” Said a, surprisingly soft, British voice from behind him. Horatio whipped around to find his enemy laying just yards down the mounain with his claws crossed ifront of him.

            The dragon grinned, a glint in his bloodthirsty eyes.

            Horatio pointed his sword at the beast and screamed wildly. “Sly you monster! You killed my father!”

            Sly, amused by this minor intruder, cocked his head to giggle. “Hehe! That almost rhymed.”

            Horatio fumed. “Bah! You get serious now! I am here to avenge my father’s death!”

            Sly frowned and straightened himself. “Funny, I don’t remember killing you’re father. Just like how I don’t remember killing you’re mother, you’re brother, you’re sister, you’re-” Sly cut himself off. “I haven’t ever met any of your relatives.” he murmured to himself then, eyes lit up, he said. “Oh, c’mon Horachio, I know you jus' want an excuse to slay me, you always have.”

            Horatio’s eyes got big and his face turned red. “My name is Horatio, brute, not Horachio!”

Sly raised an eyebrow and cocked an ear with three golden earrings in it. “Yes it is.”

'Horachio' went on as if Sly had said nothing. “ And you did too kill all of those people! Innocent people, they were, and you killed them!” 

            Sly rolled his eyes. “You jus’ wonna slay a dragon so you can get a free weddin’ with that dumb-bell of a princess, eecflay.” He spat with a mocking twist of his head. Wrinkling his nose at the name as if was distasteful.

            Horatio’s face turned scarlet and he thrust a finger at Sly. “Her name is Efay and she is not a dumb-bell! I have heard of her beauty and let me tell you that she is…”

            Sly heard none of the following. He really didn’t care much for this knight and his tall-tales of how he would become king of Zarrattay, the third largest kingdom in the known World. All Sly wanted to do was go home to his treasures and nest so he could sleep, but, the knight went on and on and on until Sly had had enough.

            “Oi! Where are you going?” Screamed Horatio when Sly stood and climbed the nearest tree, disappearing into the daek green leaves and twisted branches.

            “Home. You’re boring me.” Was his reply.

            Horatio’s lips tightened and he clumsily rushed through the gait only to fall flat on his face, grunting, and scrambling up to his feet again. “Coward!” he called out, but it was to late. There was a gust of strong wind that came from up in the tree Sly had climbed. Grass was ripped up from its roots and blown away along with Horatio and his horse. Screaming, they both went tumbling deeper into the forest.

            Sly sighed and breathed in. Relieved, he would come home to a safe collection of treasure and a warm corner to curl up in.

Stupid Horachio, He thought to himself, all he dose is talk and nag and make a fuss over every little thing. He flew over the tall dark wall and looked down at his garden of weeds and thorns. He breathed. Who cared about Horachio, any way? you don't, He thought.

So far, life was good for him, peaceful and slow-going, not to mention, if he ever got bored of the quiet, he had three fellow neighboring dragons: Foolsgold, Shade and The Cheeser, Whom he could go and mes with.

The Cheeser didn’t come out all that much, he was perfectly happy locked up in his castle with his strange obsession of scrolls and paper flowers. Sly always thought he was fun to mess with and he had a lot of old interesting stories to tell. But, all-and-all, The Cheeser would just assume the world was just another one of his stories and live alone. He'd rather be happy and alone than sad and with some one.

            Foolsgold stayed in his domain as well, but for different reasons than The Cheeser; he was a spineless moron who liked to collect large rugs, carpets and dolls that are good for nothing but collecting dust and staring at you wile you’re trying to sleep. Sly knew this because of the time when he stole one of those dolls thinking that it would look nice on a shelf somewhere, he thought wrong, the darn thing would never stop staring at him no matter where he put it, so he gave it back the next day.

            Shade was more active than the others; in fact, Sly had to fight her several times just to keep her from braking into his mansion. She brought excitement to his life, even if she was constantly trying to steel from him.

Sly could recall the first time he met Shade. All he had known at the time was that a dragon had moved into the old ruins in Barbed Field. Sly thought it would be fun if he paid her a visit, maybe even take a trinket or two wile he was at it. The trinket turned out to be a thousand year old tapestry and Shade was far from pleased when she caught Sly trying to sneak it away. They fought, brutely, and Sly got away, but after words he discovered something about himself; he had fallen in love with the little creature. So, he had two choices; one: give the tapestry back and get one her good side, she falls madly in love with him and they live haply-ever-after. Or two: take what you found and keep it. After some good, deep, heartfelt thought, he decided to keep it.

Shade was not much of a neighbor sense Barbed Field was in a whole different valley miles away from Sprell, where Sly lived, he had named the place himself shortly after finding the old mansion seventy-two years ago, but that is another tale that we will hear later. But for now...

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            Sly made circles over one particular spot in the garden that just didn’t seem right. He flipped backwards and landed on one of the randomly placed archways that were scattered through out the garden and cocked his head at the old rundown well, the vines that grew up its cracked sides were thorny, deadly looking.

What was wrong? Hmm, aha! He spotted the culprit; a Red Indian Paintbrush had rooted itself at the base of the stone well and had begun to grow and bloom. He frowned and, wrapping his long tale around the arch, he crawled down it partway and stretched out his dark blue tongue and wrapped it around the unsuspecting flower. Sly pulled it up and closed it in side his fanged jaws. He crawled back up the stone formation like a cat climes a tree, and flew away.

“What is he doing?” Shaiggar asked darkly. He was a dark gray dragon with icy eyes. Another, much older dragon with light gray, almost white, scales, accompanied him.

“What he does with his life is of no concern to us.” Said the old dragon blankly. “All we are here for is his abilities.”

“What abilities?" Shaiggar snapped. "All he does is stab backs and steal. It’s shameful to our clan, Galtrade.” Shaiggar narrowed his pail eyes at his elder, a dark question in them, why, why him?

The old dragon closed his own eyes for a moment to take it all in, what he was about to do, yes it was shameful but they had no other choice.

He opened his eyes again; the place that would normally be white was black so the blue iris looked like a ring of sapphire set on black velvet. The eyes of the dragon down below were similar; black with a ring like iris, though Sly's irises were copper. The two dragons’ breeds were close to the same, but despite this, Galtrade and his young comrade glared down on the other with revulsion.

Shaiggar growled. “This is stupid; asking such a beast to help us.” He turned his gaze away in humiliation and glared at a pach of dried grass.

“We have no other choice left, I told you this already!”

“It doesn’t make it any les appalling!”

“I know! I know…” The Galtrade swallowed. This was going to be painfull, he could already tell.

Sly spat out the flower on the other side of his wall in a pile of other wild flowers and roses. He turned to his weed infested, thorn infested garden and a sigh of satisfaction reveled itself. Finally, peace and quiet.

The peace was shattered by a sodden roar that came from up above. Sly leaned his head back and squinted up at the bright blue sky. The silhouettes of two large dragons spiraled down towards him, earsplitting cries vibrating from their fiery throats.

Sly obtained a face of utter horror and let his wings drop to the stones of the wall. Why was he being attacked? What had he done to these two? They didn’t look familiar.

One of them landed in front of him, hard, crouching down low with his wings spread out wide. Sly stood there for a moment and gaped, and then he came to his senses. The best thing to do in this sort of situation would be to run. So, Sly turned around, but was blocked by an even bigger dragon, who growled so deeply that Sly felt the ground rumble.

“Surrender!”

Sly gawked.

“Speak you fool!” yelled the smaller, but still bigger than Sly, dragon from behind.

 “Ahhuhh?” Sly wasn’t making much progress in the speech department.

The older dragon seemed angered. “Gather up your sanity, boy!” He snapped.

Sly finally spoke, though not so confidently. “You want me gather up my what?” His vlice was small.

The old dragon shook his head then said. “You will come quietly and you will listen to what we say.”

The old dragon’s voice was big and loud like the roll of thunder.

Sly mad no movement to escape or fight back. There was no other feeling in him but fear, trepidation and panic, all of these combined mad him feel rather sick inside and faint.

“Boy!” The oldest dragon snapped, causing Sly to wince and abruptly back up into the younger one. He yelped girlishly and fell off the wall to the forests’ side, landing awkwardly on his back.

“Come with us.” Demanded the young dragon. They both looked over the side of the wall at Sly, but he was already on the run.

“Run! Run! Run!” Sly motivated himself, dodging through the trees like a snake.

“Stop!” roared a dragon from behind.

“No!” squeaked Sly. He went rapidly speeding over a large bolder as if it were effortless.

“He’s fast!” gasped Shaiggar, astonished.

Galtade made no reply.

Suddenly he skidded to a stop and Shaiggar fallowed his lead.

“What is it?” He asked, out of breath.

Galtrade opened his mouth to speak but never reached the words.

“Hold still, you little rat!” a she-dragon’s voice snapped from the other side of the bolder.

“No- ow!” Sly began defiantly and ended with a cry of pain.

“Oh yes you will!” She snapped again.

“Aceela!” Galtrade and Shaiggar said simultaneously and both rushed around the rock to stop at a seen worthy of the title ‘Odd’.

Aceela (a small white dragon) had Sly pinned to the ground with one of her delicate talons pressing his cheek to the ground, another at his throat and her hind legs on his soft under-belly.

“Plish doon’t kiw me.”Sly tried to pleed, It was the best he could do with the little villain’s foot on his face.

The young male dragon crept close to Sly with a mocking grin on his dark face and said. “Oh, don’t you worry. We won’t kill you, you beast.” He spat out the word like it tasted bad.

“Bweast?” Sly asked, confused. But It was no use; he was not able to talk. If that she-dragon would just remove her claw from his face, he could speak more properly.

“You, Sly, are our captive now.” Shaiggar spoke, loving the words like something sweet.

Sly's eyebrow rose. 'What on earth was this loony talking about?' He thought.

This Ends The Vary First Chapter Of A Vary Strange Story.