Flash Fiction Friday - The Wawel Dragon

Stefan is determined to slay the beast

Stefan sat among the ruins of his village, smoke rising around him. Everyone he knew and loved was gone, consumed in the flame of the beast from the castle. Were it not for a trip to sell his crops at a nearby market, he too would have been turned to ash under the fiery breath of the dragon.

Instead of survivor guilt, Stefan felt nothing but rage. Herman, the master of the castle, demanded payment from the villages in the shadow of the turrets, promising death if the money was not delivered in a timely fashion. After a fruitful market visit, Stefan had the money that was required to keep Smok Wawelski, Herman’s beast, at bay. The payment was not due for a few more days, thus the annihilation of his home was an insult that required a response.

Stefan sharpened the blade of his sword as he waited for night to fall, his eyes never leaving the exterior white walls of the castle. The climb to the cave where Smok slept was a treacherous one in the light of day, but by night, most would consider it madness. That Stefan planned to go under the cover of dark was proof that loss was the thief of sanity.

As night fell, a full moon broke from between the clouds, lighting the way up the hillside. Stefan saw this light as some sort of divine providence, a sign that his quest for revenge was just. He made his way through fire scorched timbers and jagged outcroppings, finally finding himself at the mouth of the dragon’s cavern. Job done, the moon slipped behind a storm cloud as the first ruble of thunder echoed across the valley below.

Brandishing his sword, Stefan steeped inside, the overpowering scent if sulfur bringing tears to his eyes. Stefan covered his mouth and tiptoed into the cave, hoping to catch the beast while it slept. A faint breeze passed through his hair, the breath of the sleeping dragon flowing outward through nostrils the size of clenched fists.

Stefan raised the sword, preparing to strike, just as a pair of golden orbs temporarily blinded him. The dragon’s eyes were the source of the light, and while blazing spots danced before his eyes, Stefan could see well enough to spot the faintest touch of a smile crossing the face of the beast.

“Who dare’s interrupt my slumber?” the beast asked, it’s voice deeper than the rolling thunder outside.

“I am Stefan Pasek of Labetnik, the village you destroyed.”

The creature raised its head, letting out a low grumble. “A peasant in my midst. It would be an insult were I not so hungry.”

Blinking furiously, Stefan swung his sword, missing the beast by a wide margin.

“You are a brave one, but I can smell your fear. It is intoxicating.” The dragon moved quickly, opening its mouth and snapping at Stefan, tearing off the arm holding the sword. It deftly spit out the ruined blade and chewed the severed limb, the sound of snapping bones impossibly loud inside the cave.

Realizing that death was coming, Stefan turned quickly, heading for the exit as blood flew from the stump at his shoulder like an erupting geyser. He only made it a few steps before he felt a surge of pain around his right ankle. He looked down and saw a massive talon speared through his flesh. Before he could scream, his world turned upside down as the dragon lifted him and pulled him close.

“So small and weak, and not much of a meal,” Smok said before tearing off Stefan’s left leg. The beast shuddered and seemed to smile again, as Stefan slipped in and out of consciousness. “I much prefer dark meat,” Smok said as he opened his mouth wide.

Before Stefan’s world went permanently dark, it exploded on a beam of orange light brought on by the fire erupting the dragon’s mouth.