This story was written for a friend to be given as a Christmas present from the friend to her younger brother. The brief I was given was to write a story for an eleven year old boy who is smart and likes dragons and stuff.
The kid has received a very pretty printed copy of the story and there isn't much else I feel I can do with the story apart from share it. So there isn't much more for me to say about "The Last English Dragon." The story itself is about two and a half thousand words long and you can download a PDF of the story from here.
As I am on my laptop at the moment I don't have a plain text version of the story with me to copy and paste here. I will put the text of the story below when I am next at my desktop machine.
This is very likely going to be the last post I make to this blog this year. While we enter a new year every second (think about it); I'd still like to wish everyone who follows me here a healthy and awesome Gregorian new year.
Edited 1/1/10: Full story below.
The Last English Dragon
Will Ellwood
I was eating lunch when I first saw George Smith. It had been
early in the spring and I was up on the moors helping my father
and brother tend to his employer's flock. George Smith had been
walking along the old road over the tops heading towards me. He
was well dressed like a lord.
When he reached the break in the wall where I was resting he
introduced himself and started to ask me a queer set of
questions. "Good afternoon young sir," he said, "these walls,
could you tell me how long they have stood?"
"As long as I have lived," I replied truthfully.
He looked me up and down. "That isn't very helpful. How old are
you? Sixteen?"
"Fourteen."
"Quite."
"My father says that the walls were built when he was a lad. He
must be forty five now."
"What is the point of these beastly things?"
"Well sir, to keep all the lords sheep in one place. To stop them
from escaping and to stop things from stealing them."
"Ah I see. It's about control then. Things have not changed much
since I was last in the area then."
"Shortly after the Glorious Revolution," he said in a casual tone
of voice.
That was impossible. The man standing before me looked no older
than my father. I would have easily believed that he was much
younger had he not been wearing a white wig. "I don't believe
you."
"Of course you don't," he said, as he reached into the pocket of
his waistcoat pocket. "Take a look at this coin. See what you
think? Keep it even."
I took the coin. The year on the face dated the coin to 1695. I
still didn't believe this strange man. He could have gotten the
coin from anywhere.
"Tell me lad. Do you attend a school of some kind?"
"I did," I answered, "for five years in the seasons where I
couldn't be put to useful work. But that was years ago. I can
read and write a bit. I know enough arithmetic to help my father
with his accounts." I was proud of that fact then. My father and
brother had never learned to read or write. Our employer, who is
our landlord, had often tried to exploit my father into paying
more money than he owed by taking advantage of this.
"You should go back to school again. That coin is very valuable.
It should find you the start of an education at a local grammar
school."
Of course this is when I asked the obvious question, "why are you
giving me this?"
"Because a boy needs an education, and because George Smith has
more money than he needs."
We talked a little while after he gave me the coin. About small
things like the weather. But soon he made his excuses and walked
off across the moors. I returned to repairing the wall of an
enclosure and watching over the flocks of sheep around me.
The money was more than enough to send me to school for a term.
It was decided jointly by my mother and father that as the
opportunity was there that I would start school again on the
soonest possible date. Books were bought for my studies and
instead of spending all my hours in the fields with my father and
brother watching sheep I spent the hours I could afford catching
up.
It was fortunate that I was an able student who eventually won a
scholarship, because soon after I had started at the grammar
school there was a spate of poachers. The bodies of mutilated
animals started to turn up among the lord's flocks and the money
given to me by George Smith had to be used to compensate the lord
for loss of livestock.
During the summer break I returned to the moors to shepherd and
once again I met George Smith as he walked along the old road.
"How is your education progressing?" He asked me after some small
talk.
"It is going well sir. I have gained a scholarship; which is most
fortunate because most of the money you gave me had to be used to
cover another unpredicted debt."
"I had heard about sheep going missing while in a tavern. I am
sorry that it has affected your family."
Now my father never visited the taverns as he was a teetotaler .
He had also been sworn to secrecy on the matter by the lord who
had not wanted news that his flocks were apparently disappearing
to get out. I assume then, as I do now, that such secrecy was
required by all involved in this part of the lords business.
"Terrible. But it happens so I suppose that it must be accepted
and anticipated," he said, smiling.
I was growing suspicious of the man and resolved then and there
to find out where George Smith was traveling to.
Again after a short conversation, only our second, he made the
excuse of being later for tea and carried on his walk across the
moor.
I followed him at a distance and kept myself low behind the
opposite side of the wall that followed the road. Not once did I
see him look back behind him, as he just walked on without a
care. He turned off the road after he had walked a while and
followed a faint path through the short brown grass to the top of
a low hill.
It was on top of this hill that I thought I had lost track of
George Smith. When he was climbing the hill so I would not be
spotted I had stayed hidden behind the wall until he had
disappeared from my sight over the summit of the hill. It was
then I climbed the hill and it was at the top of the hill that I
had hoped to catch sight of him and to pick up his trail from
there. But there was no sign of anyone or anything in the valleys
around me apart from sheep. A cairn of stones that had been there
since ancient times had been disturbed. When I examined the side
of the cairn I found a hole large enough for a man to fit
through. The bottom wasn't far down. Deep enough for me to climb
out of. I jumped down into it. It was there that I saw a narrow
tunnel leading down deep into the hill.
Crawling down that narrow tunnel into the darkness I know was a
foolish thing to do. But I was convinced George Smith was not as
he seemed. Consider the situation: he was wealthy, he claimed no
knowledge of the sheep enclosures and the only time I had seen
him had been walking from nowhere to what seemed to be nowhere.
When I'd asked about him in town, no one had heard of him. The
money he had given me we had to explain as savings that had been
acquired over time. We had managed to hush the existence of the
coin up by intimidating the banker we exchanged it with into
silence.
My father and brother had a side business when the shepherding
season was over or slow that was best described as criminal.
At the end of the tunnel it opened out into a magical chamber at
least the size of the church we attended on Sunday's. Piled to
the roof was a hoard of gold and silver coins mixed with brightly
colored jewels that glowed in the dim orange light of the
creature that was sleeping on a bed of gold.
Attempting to approach the creature in silence failed because I
slipped on a stack of coins. I cursed loudly out of habit. The
light from the creature's serpentine scales grew warmer and
brighter. The temperature increased. The creature opened its
eyes. It stretched out its short legs which ended in black
talons. Then it spread its tattered wings out disturbing piles of
gold which made a noise as the coins tumbled to the floor.
I guessed that it was trying to threaten me. While I was scared
it was not filling me with the dread that it hoped to inspire.
Mostly, these days, I attribute this to the creature's pot belly
but also to what it said next.
"Oh bother. I'll have to clean that up now," it said, with George
Smith's kind voice.
"Oh bother," I repeated, "those aren't the words a dragon is
supposed to say."
"Really now? And how many dragons have you met?" It looked at me
like a stern teacher.
"Including you, if you are a dragon."
"Which I am," it added.
"One."
"So how do you know what dragons are supposed to say?"
"Well in the stories dragons are always being canny and sly. They
don't say, 'oh bother.'"
"Do you believe every story you hear?" It looked at me that way
again.
"No."
"Good. What are you doing here anyway? I am trying to sleep."
"Well I was trying to find George Smith. I wanted to know where
he got the money from."
"Well my name when I am among your kind is George Smith," it
said.
"And the money?"
"Look around you. You are standing on it. Honestly I thought you
were a smart one. That's why I gave you the money for an
education. Money, my kind acquire wealth just by living. You need
the education though. The world is changing. I can feel that in
my bones and see it in my dreams. There will soon be no place in
England for dragons and I will become part of this hill forever.
"England has never been good for us really. All the uplands where
we live are covered with people which means we can't fly for fear
of being noticed. "
I thought about the missing sheep. "Did you take those sheep?"
It smiled. "Of course. The one advantage of being an English
dragon is that food is very easy to find. Lots of sheep and
cattle to pick right from the land in the old days. Of course
now, without my wings, I have to go out as George and take them
like a common poacher. But time changes everything I suppose.
"You have been born in interesting times lad. I heard on my last
trip into town that a new land has recently been colonized. A
place first sighted when I was last awake. Australia. Terra
Australis Incognita. The Unknown Land of the South. Surely there
must be no more unknown lands. No places marked here be dragons.
"What do you want to do in life?" the dragon said, changing the
subject abruptly.
I had, at this stage of my life, given the question little
thought. I had always assumed that I would follow directly into
my father and brother's work of shepherding when it was available
or the other business when more legal work was not available. Now
with the benefit of hindsight this was foolish, even childish,
thinking as with the education that the dragon's money had
provided me my prospects in life had improved far beyond what my
father and brother could hope to achieve.
I admitted the truth to the dragon that I didn't know.
"Well," said the dragon, "do you think that you'll be able to
shepherd sheep for much longer? Aren't you tempted to explore the
places you'll have read about in your studies?"
"A bit. But I don't know how I'd go to those places. Not unless I
get sent to Australia as a convict. There's the army. But that is
no guarantee. It is likely that wouldn't get very far and end up
fighting the French."
"But if you don't take the chance..."
"I don't fancy them. There is the navy or a merchant ship. But
I've never seen the sea; let alone been on a ship. So that
doesn't really seem to be an option."
"How are your math and science studies progressing?"
"I am the best in the class," I said with pride, "My teacher
tells me that I have a natural talent like no other he has
taught. Although he has often said my gift is likely to be wasted
as it will be impossible for me to attend a university to further
my studies."
"Money can be provided. A letter of recommendation from George
Smith I promise would help. Have you considered furthering your
education and exploring how the world works?"
"That would be interesting.
"Then I will do everything I can to see that you can. You must
make me one promise though. You must promise not to waste your
education. I want you to explore what is left of the world to
explorer and to learn as much as you can about how it works. When
you stop finding answers to your questions in books I want you to
find the answers through experiments and observation. Do not
believe in magic. Because, when I am gone magic will be to."
"I promise," I said.
"Good. Now please leave me to rest. I will see you soon."
I left the dragon's cave the way I had entered it. When I came to
the surface again the sun was setting. Making my way down the
path to where I had been watching the sheep I decided that I
would do everything I could to not let the dragon down. He had
given me a glimpse at my potential after all.
Two years later I moved south, on my own, to Cambridge. Five
years after that I traveled aboard a ship to Africa and beyond
ready to catalog the world.
Still despite my later adventures I have never forgotten the day
I first met George Smith. In the fifty years years since that
first meeting many changes have come to England, as have many
changes come to the world. There are no more real dragons. Only
the dragon fires of dark satanic mills that have caused the
cities to swell in size.
I write this story of how I came to find myself in the position
to see the world now because I do not wish the story of George
Smith to be lost. I believe that George Smith not only wanted me
to go out into the world and explorer but I also believe that he
always wanted to be remembered. Not to die forgotten in the
middle of a lonely English hill.
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