Someone To Care For

Gertruda awoke to the sound of stomping feet somewhere overhead and opened her eyes, scanning the room around her. Shadows greeted her, and a gray light filtered from the passages leading outside, hinting that it might already be morning.

It was hard to tell the time in the cave. The fire in the small pit in the middle of the room, which he would usually leave for her, must have died out during the night, and the gray darkness seemed to be buzzing and moving around her. The sound of stomping faded into the distance, and for a moment all was silent.

Chill emanated from the stone walls around her, and she was reluctant to leave the warm blankets she was wrapped in. She shifted in her bed–a wooden crate filled with blankets and torn pieces of fabric–and closed her eyes, lingering in the soft state between sleep and wakefulness when the familiar voice rolled in the distance.

She could not understand the foreign words, but she had heard them enough times to know what they meant. He was calling for her, and she had better come out herself if she didn’t want to be picked up and carried away.

The large room around her was empty except for her makeshift bed, a round, flat slab of stone that she used as a table, and two wooden chests that stood open in the far corner of the room. An avalanche of colorful gowns and dresses was spilling from the larger one, while from the other, even in the dim light of the room, a golden spark could be seen. Several candles stood on the stone table, but she didn’t bother to light them; she was already so used to the room that she could have found her way in pitch-black darkness, and on some nights she had.

Next to the candles stood a basin of water, used for both drinking and washing, and a comb. The touch of cold water on her face immediately brought her senses to heightened alertness, and in an instant, she felt like a tight spring–ready to leap. It took her mere minutes to get ready; she gurgled some water in her mouth and took a few sips, slithered out of her pristine white nightgown, and reached for the top dress on the pile.

It was hard to tell the color in the dim light, but it had been long since Gertruda cared. She could recall a time when mornings meant warm sunshine and an enormous, pillow-filled bed. Back then, she would take her time getting ready, picking her outfit, and marveling at her reflection in the mirror as the maids did her hair, but it felt like a distant memory now. Now there was little pleasure in picking a dress since their sole purpose was to entertain him.

Gertruda was busy fastening the buttons on the back of the dress, missing her handmaids dearly, when the stomping resumed. It was coming from one of the top passageways, and she could tell the steps were fast approaching. The deep voice boomed again, the rugged sounds echoing in the vast halls and dim corridors.

Taking a deep breath, she called out, “I’m almost ready!” She figured that he did not understand her either, but just like her, had learned to associate different combinations of sounds and tones into tiny bits of meaning.

She turned back when his head was visible in the tall arc leading to her room and, not for the first time, found her heart skipping a beat when she met his eyes. Reading the expression on that face was impossible, but something told her that he was in high spirits.

They walked out–him leading the way–following several huge tunnels until they reached the one that opened to the outside world. A shiver passed through Gertruda’s body when she felt a hint of warmth in the air. Golden light greeted them as they walked out to the wide landing spreading before the entrance to the cave.

I’m not dizzy, Gertruda found herself thinking, surprised. It was difficult in the beginning; the air was too thin near the top of the mountain, and she often felt lightheaded or short of breath, but apparently, her body was getting accustomed to its new environment.

He motioned with his head and rumbled some words, and she knew that it was her time to relieve herself. When she was first brought there, she thought of those moments as her opportunity to escape. She was often baffled, wondering why he never bothered trying to prevent that freedom from her, but she soon learned that escape was not an option.

She made her way around the cave’s maw, following a thin trail leading around the mountain’s towering peak above. Another cliff was beside her and between the two a long, long fall to the ground far below. If the immense height wasn’t enough to deter her, then the steep decline was there to deflate any remaining hope.

She found the hole he had dug out for her to do her business in. It smelled of smoke and other, unmentionable things. The land around it was black and charred; he must have incinerated it again–the closest thing to cleaning she could hope for.

Lifting the skirts of her dress, Gertruda raised her gaze to the sky and squatted to attend to her bodily needs. The rays of sunshine were yet to reach the narrow corridor between the mountain peaks, and the wind felt icy and sharp as it brushed past her skin. The land around was barren, with nothing but snow on the mountaintops to break the reddish-brown pattern of the land.

Returning to the cave’s entrance, Gertruda found to her surprise that he wasn’t there. A rush of excitement fluttered through her, like so many times before. Could it be her chance? Could this be her opportunity to escape?

Gingerly, casting sideways glances towards the darkness beyond the arching entrance, she walked up to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Sharp and merciless, bereft of any paths or trails, the mountain rushed to meet her–a steep descent that no human would be able to make. It seemed to go down in an almost straight line, leading any bold adventurer foolish enough to attempt it to a very abrupt and most certain end.

The ground far below was obscured by shreds of cloud, and Gertruda found that she had gotten light-headed again. She stumbled back, feeling her limbs go weak. The weakness subsided the farther she got from the edge.

A voice called from within the cave as if the mountain itself was growling, and she rushed back inside, for once grateful for the safety of the cave.

He was in a good mood that day. Excited, even. A bowl of food–a chunk of charred meat, this time accompanied by two small green apples that were so sour they made her face scrunch up–was waiting for her. She ate while watching him go through a pile of golden necklaces, heavy rings laden with gemstones, and bracelets that reminded her of shackles.

He picked out several dresses for her, one puffier than the other–the kind of dresses she would have enjoyed once in her previous life, but now felt cumbersome and unnecessary–which she had to try on one by one, watching his expressionless face until he finally nodded with approval. Then it was time to pick jewelry, marking the end of the dress-up game.

He took longer than usual to brush her hair, and once that was done, stared at her for a long, excruciating moment during which she didn’t know what to expect next. But just as she was getting nervous, he awoke from the trance, and in an instant, she knew they were about to leave.

He hadn't said a thing, hadn’t made a sound that she might have recognized, but there was something in his aura, in the springiness of his movements. He disappeared into one of the tunnels and returned shortly, dragging along a tall, narrow cage. Gertruda did not protest; there was no point, and shortly they were outside.

Again, her heart pounded. She closed her hands tightly around the metal bars of the cage and shut her eyes. The next time she opened them, there was nothing but sky around her.

***

A spark of red sped through the clear morning sky, sweeping between the sharp tips of the mountains and soaring high above the clouds. Enormous wings beat in slow, sweeping motions, and a long tail serpentined in the currents of cold air. The creature fought to gain altitude at first, beating its wings as it gathered speed, but the thin air stood calm and soon enough the creature could cease its effort and simply glide on the invisible currents.

Golden eyes larger than an elk’s head–antlers included–blinked slowly. Beneath the colossal beast, a large metal cage swung in the air, held by powerful talons wrapped around the bars.

Blargarog loved the early morning hours. The warm sunlight on his gleaming scales, the crisp air, the towering, desolate mountains around. He raised his wings and brought them down again in a slow, powerful motion, just to feel the stretch in his muscles. Quickly remembering himself, he adjusted his angle, ensuring he wouldn’t rise too high. He wasn’t alone, after all, and humans were fragile little things.

He smiled to himself. There was beauty in loneliness that simpler beings could not comprehend, yet it was also strangely rewarding to care for another that much smaller than yourself.

He flew for nearly an hour, watching the clouds rush far below and the mountain range trailing around him. The sharp peaks reminded Blargarog of the spikes on his own back, and he wondered–slowly, as one who is never in a rush does–if the mountain had once been another, much greater dragon who had gone to sleep and turned to stone.

It was an interesting thought. After you’ve lived for a few hundred years, that’s mostly what you’re left with: interesting thoughts. It’s easy to lose yourself in the moment, in the ecstasy of flight and the joy of freedom. It’s easy to forget about the world. You must create these little tasks for yourself, these little concerns and speculations, or else you would forget who you are.

A pillar of stone was rising on the horizon ahead–a tall, sharp spire that seemed to pierce the sky, its top a flat plateau. It was toward that that Blargarog was making his way. A spot of color marked the reddish earth–a patch of green–and Blargarog knew that one of his old friends was already waiting.

Angling his body and circling slowly to reduce his altitude and speed, the dragon prepared to descend.

***

Gertruda kept her eyes shut most of the flight and finally got the courage to open them again just as the dragon was about to land. She watched with horror as the ground rushed toward them, and once more her head spun as the dragon circled above the spire of rock, though she was not sure if it was due to the motion or the thin air.

She reinforced her grip on the metal bars as they landed and gritted her teeth. Her stomach turned at the dreaded moment when he let go of her cage, and there was a split second before she was on the ground again. The fall was no more than a few inches, but the feeling of weightlessness still made her queasy. She heard her dragon stomp the ground as it landed and breathed a sigh of relief.

They were in the middle of nowhere, standing on a flat field hundreds of miles above the land with nothing but air all around–air and another dragon that started to stomp his way towards them.

Gertruda crouched in her cage as the beast approached; this one was green, with longer spikes running from its rather narrow head down its back and long tail. His scales shimmered with gold as the light of the sun bounced off them.

It roared, or rather spoke, prompting a response from her red dragon, and for a moment, Gertruda was gripped by fear, worrying what the exchange might mean. Reading a dragon’s emotions wasn’t easy, especially when all their words sounded like nothing more than roars to her ears.

Her dragon suddenly raised a red talon and opened the cage’s door, and both dragons went quiet, their lizard-like eyes watching her with something along the lines of intrigue.

“Come on, step out. They’re not going to eat you!” a voice called, prompting Gertruda to look up sharply, not believing her ears.

Up until that moment, she had been too scared to scan her surroundings. However, now she could see that not far from the green dragon stood a figure that appeared tiny next to its scaly bulk–a young maiden, much like herself.

Despite the size of the plateau beneath her feet, Gertruda felt like each step could shake her balance and carry her over the edge. She forced herself to focus her eyes on the figure in front of her and keep walking–one step at a time–forward.

As Gertruda got closer, she noticed that the girl was dressed in a green dress with a wide layered skirt and puffed sleeves, as if her attire was intentionally meant to match the color of her dragon. Atop her head sat a tiara with three emeralds.

Gertruda opened her mouth to speak, but the girl was quicker. “Anastasia,” she said cheerfully, her words accompanied by a bow that somehow seemed mocking. “Princess Anastasia of house–well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Gertruda,” Gertruda said hesitantly, not sure how to proceed. “How long have you been–”

“Adopted?” Anastasia interrupted, laughing a short, bark-like laugh. “That’s how we started calling it, Robin and I. There isn’t really another word for it, is there?”

She must have read the confusion in Gertruda’s eyes because she went quiet for a moment. “This must be quite recent for you, is it?” she asked, her voice turning soft, and Gertruda nodded.

Anastasia sighed. “It’s been a few years for me. These guys–” she stopped and gestured at the dragons towering over them, who watched the exchange with fascinated intensity, speaking some incomprehensible words from time to time, “–they aren’t particularly social. Robin and I only met a handful of times in the last year alone. Still, better than nothing, I would say.”

“So, there’s more of us?”

“Us? You mean princesses? Sure! A prince, even, if you can call Robin that,” she laughed again.

Gertruda stared at her in bewilderment. “If there’s more of us, perhaps we can try to–”

“Escape?” Anastasia broke in again. “If our mountain’s anything like yours, you know that escape is not an option. I thought about it for the first few months, believe me. But with time, you sort of get accustomed, you know? And it’s not that bad, after all. Food is provided, along with all the jewelry and preppy dresses you’d ever want, and then there are these playdates we get from time to time. Mine even got my room completely furnished with a royal bed, mirrors, and everything! And when you get used to it, flying is quite fun!”

“Fun? Being towed in a cage thousands of feet in the air is fun?” Gertruda shrieked, no longer able to compose herself.

“Greenzy–that’s what I call mine–lets me sit on his back,” Anastasia said, and Gertruda thought she detected a note of smugness in the girl’s tone. “You have to earn his trust for him to quit the cage, show him that you’re calm and everything.”

“So, you’ve just accepted this–this adoption?”

Anastasia shrugged. “What else could I do?”

There was something wrong in the girl’s cheerfulness, in that quiet acceptance, and a rebellious spirit was beginning to rise in Gertruda, replacing shock and fear with hot determination.

“Escape. You had years, and you gained his trust. There must have been something you could do!”

Anastasia gestured towards the edge of the plateau. “Mountains, remember? Falling down? Not fun.”

“Perhaps freedom is worth the risk.”

“Freedom is nice, but comfort isn’t too bad either.”

***

“Do you think they like each other?” Blargarog asked, watching the little figures below chitter in their shrill voices. The sounds did not form into coherent words, but he could sense the layers of emotions imbued in them.

Gzandrax hummed, a deep guttural sound, seemingly amused by the lively exchange. “It appears so,” he agreed. “So quiet at home, and yet so agitated when they meet others of their kind.”

“Indeed. It is as if their little minds are filled with all sorts of little concerns.”

Gzandrax laughed. “What concerns can they possibly have? They don’t need to hunt or protect themselves; they have a warm bed and toys to play with. Sometimes I wonder if they could even survive as well on their own.”

A blue dot appeared on the horizon, approaching from the south, and the two dragons turned to watch a third dragon come into view.

“I must admit,” Blargarog said conversationally, “I was hesitant at first; what would I need one of these for? But you two were right. There is something in it–in having someone waiting for you when you come back to the cave. Gives time more meaning. And that look they give you when you bring them food or a new toy? It makes all the work worth it.”