Arthur went to bed early that night, completely worn out by his long stint of sentry duty, for he had insisted on doing his bit in protecting the Valley of the Dragons. Within seconds of rolling himself into a comfortable position among the rocks that formed his bed he was fast asleep. Indeed, so deep was his sleep that he didn’t hear the red dragons as they closed the entrance to his cave. This was the first task of the night watch and the dragons took their duties seriously, moving round all the caves in the valley, closing the openings with huge boulders that fitted snugly into the entrances of the tunnels.
It was exhausting work, for the boulders were heavy, but the dragons were strong and as their leader flew round to make sure that no cave had been left open to the night air, they flew to their perches atop high pinnacles of rock, their eyes sharp and alert for they knew that she would be hungry. It was many months since she’d managed to kill and eat a baby dragon — and every night since had been a battle of wits as she crept cunningly between outcrops of rock, trying to reach the caves on the hillside where the dragons slept. Tonight was a dangerous night, for the full moon shone brightly on the creamy rocks of the valley, leaving deep areas of shadow where … she … could move unseen.
She was there. And she was hungry. Very hungry. Slithering upwards, the great serpent rose from the depths of the deep crevasse she called home and, stealing through the shadows, slipped silently across the smooth rocks to feast, hopefully, on dragon flesh. Preferably baby dragon flesh, she thought, hissing softly to herself; so much more tender and appetizing than the tough, ancient, hundreds-of-years-old variety and so much easier to swallow!
Her tongue flickered several times as she smiled in cold amusement, for her chances this time were more than good. The dragons had been careless that morning. So excited were they at the arrival of this new dragon that they hadn’t noticed her watching. But she had been close. So close that she had heard them talking of Arthur in hushed tones. Arthur, she thought contemptuously. What kind of a name for a dragon was that, for goodness sake! And, putting Arthur out of her mind, she cast the red dragons a calculating glance as she slithered slowly and carefully upwards towards the cave entrance she’d marked out as her target for the evening. It had, she’d discovered, housed a rather nasty baby dragon who was so badly behaved that it drove its mother to distraction. It really deserved to be her supper. In fact, she reckoned she’d be doing the mother a favour, getting rid of such an awful brat! She certainly wouldn’t miss him and as he was on the plump side, her mouth watered in anticipation.
Reaching the entrance to the cave, she reared her thick length behind her in undulating curves and pushed against the side of the boulder. It was moving, she thought excitedly. She only needed a small opening to get through and once in the dragon’s lair, a quick bite would be enough to put the dragons to sleep. Getting out again with a young dragon filling her stomach, however, was definitely something else and gently, ever so gently, she widened the hole. Slithering softly down the tunnel, she arrived in the cave where the dragons lay on their rocky beds, snoring loudly, blissfully unaware of their danger.
It was all the fault of the wretched child, she thought afterwards, nursing her burns and bruises. Who else, after all, would have left sharp stones lying around in the dark! Her hiss of alarm as they’d pierced her scales had been more than enough to wake the dragons and the father had got in a good few searing blasts of fire before she’d managed to turn round and streak back up the tunnel again.
Then, of course, the red dragons, alerted by the noise, were already diving towards her, flames belching from their mouths. It had been a tricky journey home. The thought of it made her shudder as, slithering in a mad panic from rock to rock, shadow to shadow, she’d done all she could to avoid them. Lashing out with her tail when they got too close, she knew she’d caused them some damage but there were so many of them that her efforts had been of little use as they swooped on her unprotected body, raking it with their claws. The flame of their breath lit the valley and sent the shadows fleeing so that her last, few, painful yards, in full view of her attackers, had been a nightmare of pain and horror.
Arthur rose bright and early the next morning and stretched lazily on the heap of rocks and stones that served as his bed. It wasn’t quite what he was used to, of course, and for an instant he thought longingly of Arthur’s Seat and the ever-so comfortable heap of wonderful treasure that he snuggled down into each evening. He sighed inwardly, missing the gleam of gold, the sparkle of precious jewels and the slippery slide of sovereigns under his claws. But then, he supposed, this was an adventure and you couldn’t really expect home comforts.
It was then that he discovered that it was dark. He frowned, knowing that by this time light should have been streaming into his cave. Something was most definitely wrong! Feeling his way over to the tunnel, he scrambled upwards and, on reaching the top, found the way barred by the huge boulder that fitted across the opening. Not a chink of light shone through and he was just about to put a shoulder to it when the rock rolled away from the entrance, leaving him blinking in the dawn light.
The red dragon was very apologetic and more than slightly ashamed. “I’m very sorry, Arthur, Sir,” he gabbled distractedly. “I’m a bit late today. She was on the prowl last night, you see, and she made it into one of the caves. Fortunately the dragons woke up and … it was quite a battle, I can tell you!”
Arthur noticed that one of the dragon’s wings was badly torn.
“Did you manage to kill her?”
The red dragon shook his head. “No, she escaped into her den but she was badly injured. You must excuse me, Arthur, Sir,” he said pleadingly. “I’m late as it is this morning and I’ve loads more rocks to remove.”
“Go ahead,” Arthur answered, looking across the valley to where a veritable army of red dragons was hurriedly removing the great round boulders that blocked the tunnels that led down into the dragons’ caves.
“Thank you, thank you,” gabbled the little red dragon as he flew, rather precariously given his damaged wing, over to the next pinnacle of rock where he proceeded to shoulder a round boulder from the entrance to a tunnel.
Arthur looked on as the red dragons went about their duties. What, he wondered, had gone on in the night? He wished that he, himself, had been on guard duty so that he could have seen the great serpent that had obviously petrified the wits out of the red dragon.
Gladrin told him the story later on that morning and Arthur looked thoughtful. The Valley of the Dragons, so peaceful on the surface, wasn’t quite the paradise he’d thought when he first arrived. He kept his thoughts to himself as he didn’t want to raise false hopes for, although there was no way that the dragons could get into the deep clefts where the serpent lived, he was fairly sure that, between them, Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan might well be able to rid them of the ugly monster that ate their young.