Flight of the Irish
Murchadh walked resolutely into the cave opening. This entrance was well-hidden from behind the majority of the Keshcorran Caves, so Murchadh knew that he would not be found out any time soon. Either way, his father’s cottage was not too far from the northwestern set of caves. Fial was not one to condone wandering off alone where no one could help you or hear your cries. Granted, Murchadh was never far from home, but Fial was a protective father. Eiltin, Murchadh’s fourteen-year-old sister, was not allowed to roam the countryside near the Keshcorran Caves, despite the mere five year difference in their ages. The girl was visibly chafing, just like the delicate, free-spirited deer she had been named for.
Pushing thoughts of his poor sister from his mind, Murchadh went through the cave system, carefully marking his passage with small marks of white paint. He had learned when he was only eight that one should never go into an unmapped cave without a way out. He was thinking only of the tales he would tell his friend Conall when he returned (for neither had ventured so far into the cave before) when he stumbled into a large cavern containing something he had thought only a myth.
The foot-long, oval egg sat in the very center of the cavern on a bed of old grasses and moss. Shining his lantern on the egg, Murchadh saw that it was a pure, crystalline black that reflected the lantern light onto the ceiling and sides of the cavern in bright flashes. Not daring to breathe, Murchadh hesitantly stepped into the cavern. When no monster of legend jumped out at him, he let his breath out and closed the distance between himself and the egg. It couldn’t be what he thought it was. But it had to be. There was nothing else Murchadh knew of that laid an egg that color. He put the lantern on the stony floor and rested his hands on the porcelain surface. He had thought that it would be cold, but there was an immense heat radiating from it.
Suddenly a low humming emanated from the egg and Murchadh stepped back hastily, looking all around him. Snatching up his lantern, he dashed out of the cavern and darted through the passages with a speed that would have made Eiltin smile. He didn’t tell Conall about the egg. Instead, the week after he fled from the cavern, he took his large friend to see it for himself. Conall was as astounded as he had been.
“Murchadh, is that what I—,” he began. “I mean, it can’t be a…well, you know. Can it?”
Murchadh shook his head.
“I know as much as you do, Conall, lad,” he said.
“Should we tell someone?” Conall asked. “After all, what if it hatches? It’ll grow up. It could burn all of Ireland!”
“Get a hold of yourself!” Murchadh snapped, surprised to see the staid Conall frightened. “We won’t let that happen. If we’re there when it hatches, we’ll tame it, of course. If not, it may starve to death.”
“Or else someone will find it and kill it while it’s still young,” Conall added reluctantly. His brow was creased in a frown. “But how would we…?”
Murchadh did not know exactly what to say to his friend’s half-formed question.
“We’ll figure that out when we come to it,” he said finally. “Let’s go.”
They decided to meet at the cave twice a week to check on the egg and to have several buckets of filched meat in a nearby chamber on the off-chance that the egg should hatch. On the fifth such trip, Murchadh stopped Conall from charging into the entrance. Silently, he motioned towards the low trip wire they had set up as a precaution against anyone discovering their secret. Conall’s breath whooshed out of him slowly as he saw that the wire had been pulled free. He glanced at Murchadh and jerked his head towards the entrance. Murchadh nodded; they were going in.
Somehow, the cave didn’t seem quite as magical as before. It felt scary. How had someone else found it? Murchadh pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind as he and Conall moved silently through the twisting tunnels. They didn’t have to look very hard for the intruder. He was making rather a lot of noise. Too much noise, actually. He was swearing and cursing in a low, masculine voice. There was a distinct, shrill screech that briefly deafened the two boys. When it was abruptly silenced and another few choice curses were uttered, they ran forward towards the Egg Cavern. What they found was not pretty.
An overturned lantern illuminated the whole scene. The egg had shattered, leaving thousands of tiny black shards scattered about three larger shell fragments. A swarthy man who couldn’t have been out of his twenties yet knelt over a black, lizard-like creature two feet long from triangular nose to long, whip-like tail, holding its bat-like wings tightly to its back. He was breathing heavily and bled from several long lacerations on his arms and face. He looked up just as Murchadh ran forward and pushed him off the dragon hatchling, both of them falling heavily to the floor. Before the man could recover, Conall had jumped on his back and effectively pinned him to the ground. The dragon looked once at Murchadh and buried its head in his leg. Murchadh looked helplessly at Conall.
“Get the food,” Conall said grimly. “I’ll keep our friend company.”
Murchadh nodded. Gently extracting himself from the hatchling, he made his way to the food. The dragonet followed him, keening loudly, and Murchadh quickly held out a handful of bloody meat. The dragon inhaled it. Twenty minutes and a bucketful later, the lithe dragonet curled up and went to sleep where it was. Murchadh stepped back into the cavern with Conall and knelt beside him.
“Has our friend anything to say?” he asked with false disinterest.
Conall grimaced and pulled away his hand, which had been placed firmly over the man’s mouth. Immediately, the man let forth a stream of violent swear words. Murchadh’s eyes narrowed and he spat on the stone ground.
“May the cat eat you,” he said harshly, employing an old Irish curse his father often used, “and may the cat be eaten by the devil.”
The man’s retort was not as well-spoken. Finally, Conall had to silence him once more. He tossed Murchadh a wallet.
“Found that in his back pocket,” Conall said. “What does it say?”
“Says his name is Laobhan,” Murchadh said. “Fitting. This guy’s as crooked as can be.”
Conall snorted. The name did indeed mean “crooked”.
“What should we do with him?” Murchadh asked.
“Tie him up and leave him in the caves?” Conall suggested.
The two boys got a certain amount of satisfaction from seeing Laobhan’s face blanch at the prospect of being left helpless in a cave. He struggled vigorously to get the heavy Conall off his back, but the boy would not budge. Murchadh smiled in an uncharacteristically evil way.
“That’s a good idea, my friend,” he said, taking pleasure from Laobhan’s fear. “But, alas, lad, we cannot. Someone is bound to notice he’s missing. If he’s told someone where he was going, then they’ll look for him here. Let’s—”
A loud scraping noise outside the chamber made Murchadh break off what he had been about to say. He and Conall glanced towards the entrance. Laobhan stilled, his face still pale. A small light was flickering outside the chamber.
“Murchadh?” a soft, feminine voice called. “Are you in here?”
“Eiltin?” Murchadh asked incredulously. “Eiltin, what are you doing here? You know you’re not allowed!”
The small girl walked into the chamber and stopped, her blue eyes wide with surprise. She pushed a lock of white-blonde hair out of her face and stepped forward a few paces.
“What are you two doing?” she asked.
“We’ll explain things later,” Murchadh said simply, not prepared to spring a dragon hatchling on his little sister just yet.
“Yeah,” Conall agreed. “When our friend here isn’t around to hear. Looks like we can’t help it, lad.”
Murchadh nodded slightly; they had to leave Laobhan there while they figured out how to deal with the dragon.
“Do you have any rope?” Murchadh asked Eiltin, hoping she had listened to their father’s lectures about safety.
Eiltin nodded and handed over the coil of rope she had stashed in her pack. Conall took it and tied Laobhan’s hands and feet together behind his back. The knots were tight, and the rope had to have been uncomfortable, if not downright painful. Conall and Murchadh were not in a caring mood, and so shoved him in a dark corner where he was less likely to be seen by any stray spelunkers. Taking the man’s wallet with them and leaving a single small lantern for light, Murchadh and Conall ushered Eiltin out of the cavern.
“Who was that?” Eiltin began to ask, but the question was lost as she caught sight of the tiny black dragon asleep in the next chamber.
The dragon opened its silver eyes and fixed them on Eiltin. It stumbled forward a few steps, tripping over its wings before Eiltin could right him. She stood the little dragon on its feet and stroked its triangular head. The dragon crooned softly in contentment. Murchadh and Conall watched in amazement as Eiltin scooped the hatchling up and cradled it in her arms.
“Is this why you were always sneaking off to the caves?” Eiltin asked softly, not taking her eyes off the dragon.
“Yeah,” Murchadh said. “You can’t tell Father, alright? He’d be furious. Especially since you’re not supposed to be here.”
The last bit he added pointedly, and Eiltin smiled at him indulgently.
“Don’t worry, brother,” she said. “Father won’t hear of this from me.”
“You swear?” Conall asked.
“Yes, I swear,” Eiltin said. “Do you want a contract drawn up now? Or have my name writ in blood? Call God as my witness?”
“Shut up, you,” Murchadh said, not liking the way his sister mentioned such things so casually. “Let’s figure out what to do with that thing.”
“He’s not a thing!” Eiltin said heatedly. “He’s a little lad, that’s all, a dark little lad. Well, now, darling, why don’t we call you that, huh? Dugan. Isn’t that a nice name, you sweet, dark little lad, Dugan?”
“Dugan?” Conall whispered to Murchadh.
Murchadh shrugged. Trust Eiltin to name the dragon. Dugan squawked abruptly, drawing all of their attention.
“He’s hungry,” Eiltin said. “And so am I. Can we go get some food?”
Murchadh sighed. Completely forgetting that Laobhan was still tied up in the cave, he ushered Conall and Eiltin, still carrying the newly named Dugan, out of the cave system and into the shed behind his father’s house. He had them wait there while he sneaked into the house for food. As he was about to walk out the door with an armful of potato chips, lunchmeat, bread, cheese, and sodas, he was stopped by an ominous shadow falling across the doorway.
“Where are you going with so much food, lad?” a booming voice asked.
Coolly, Murchadh turned to face his father, Fial. He let the lie slip off his tongue without a single hesitation.
“Conall came over,” he said. “Since he hadn’t eaten, and neither had Eiltin or I, we decided to have a bite to eat.”
“That’s a pretty big bite, lad,” Fial said. “But I trust you not to gorge yourself. You’re a good lad, taking care of your sister like that. Why, she’s the prettiest lass you’ll ever see, but a bit of an airhead.”
Murchadh smiled. He had just opened his mouth to comment on the intelligence of blondes when the window right behind him exploded in a whirlwind of glass shards. Murchadh and Fial hit the floor, edging closer to the window. Fial was cursing in a low voice, but stopped abruptly when he saw Murchadh listening intently. Then they were distracted.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” a harsh, slightly familiar voice called. “Come out where I can see you, lad. Give it to me, and I won’t hurt you.”
“What’s going on, Murchadh?” Fial asked.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Murchadh said. “I should have told you, but you’d never have believed me. I found a dragon.”
“You found a what?” Fial hissed.
“I know,” Murchadh said hurriedly. “It was only an egg until today, but it hatched. That guy out there, he—”
“Give it to me now!” Laobhan yelled, his voice growing hoarse. “I’ll burn this place to the ground if I have to!”
“—his name is Laobhan,” Murchadh pushed on. “I don’t know why, but he wants the dragon. Conall and I found him in the caves earlier, and tied him up, but he must have had a knife somewhere…and a gun.”
“Are you quick on your feet, lad?” Fial said after a moment’s hesitation; he pushed on when Murchadh nodded. “Then run upstairs and get my gun. We’ll show this Laobhan what he’s gotten himself into, messing with my boy.”
Murchadh dashed up the stairs, dodging a bullet aimed at his leg, grabbed the rifle (pocketing his own handgun in the process), and was back by the window in less than three minutes, with only a thin trail of blood marring his left arm where a bullet had grazed him. He handed over the loaded gun to Fial, who stood up slowly and deliberately, turning to face Laobhan through the blasted window.
“You, lad, should mind your own business,” he said coldly. “This is my land you’re standin’ on, and my property you’re shootin’ up. I suggest you leave.”
“Like hell, I will; I want that over-sized lizard and I mean to take it,” Laobhan said, adding a few curses every few words.
“Very well,” Fial said, and shot.
Laobhan cursed and spit as he felt the bullet whiz past his left ear, just where Fial had aimed it. His hand flew to his ear, supposedly to make sure it was still attached. Then he lunged towards the house, despite the five yards in between.
“Halt or this next bullet will find flesh,” Fial said.
As Laobhan came on and Fial buried a bullet in his right leg, Murchadh wondered at his father’s skill and deathly calm. He’d never seen Fial so serious. Fial seemed set to shoot Laobhan’s head off his shoulders. But before Fial could do just that, a large shadow passed over the yard and an angry, full-throated roar sounded from above. Laobhan fell to his knees, pale-faced and screaming in terror. Fial glanced up at what had terrified the intruder and blanched. He pulled Murchadh several feet away from the shattered window as a large, scaled creature swooped down low, landing so that it completely covered Laobhan with its massive wings.
Abruptly, Murchadh realized that this black-scaled creature was a mature dragon, most probably one of the parents of little Dugan. He wondered briefly what this angry parent would think of its son being named a “little dark lad.” In a moment, his question was about to be answered. The dragon half crawled, half hopped away from the bloody mess that was all that was left of Laobhan. Murchadh cringed as the dragon neared the shed where Eiltin, Conall, and Dugan were. The dragon growled menacingly, and, surprisingly, was answered by a shrill, happy cry, presumably from Dugan. The two humans exited the shed warily, following in the wake of a bouncy, fluttering Dugan.
The large dragon gave a cry of exultation. It made as if to take its young son in its claws, but a squawk from Dugan stopped it. Dugan gestured back at Eiltin and fluttered his wings expansively. Eiltin stopped herself from taking an involuntary step back as the large dragon fixed her with one large, milky-white eye. It drew a deep breath, and then spoke in a deep, masculine voice that instantly identified him as Dugan’s father.
“WHO ARE YOU?” he asked.
Eiltin paled a bit, and then gathered her wits, constructing a decent reply to a creature so obviously dignified.
“I am Eiltin, daughter of Fial,” she said.
“YOU ARE HUMAN,” the dragon said. “SO WHY, THEN, DOES MY SON MENTION YOU OF ALLTHOSE HE KNOWS?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Eiltin said. “But I like him, and I guess he likes me, too. I know you probably want to take Dugan away from me, and that’s okay. But, could I at least say good-bye?”
Murchadh was amazed to see tears in his sister’s eyes. She was normally too happy and bouncy to cry. He didn’t like her to cry, especially when it was about something that couldn’t be helped. Or could it? Without thinking, he dashed to Eiltin’s side and looked up fiercely at the dragon.
“Hey,” he said. “Why do you have to take Dugan away, huh? Eiltin loves that guy, and she’s only even known him for an hour or so. Can’t she take care of him for a little while?”
The dragon looked hard at Murchadh, his sulfurous breath washing over the boy. He glanced at Eiltin and Dugan, who had gone to stand by the young girl, and snorted, as much in exasperation as frustration.
“I CANNOT,” he said, “IN GOOD CONCIOUS LET MY SON, SO APTLY NAMED, BE RAISED HERE. WE RAISE OUR OWN, AND SO WE SHALL RAISE…DUGAN. BUT, I WILL NOT WILLINGLY DEPRIVE HIM OF THE ONE COMPANION WHOM HE LOVES. YOUNG EILTIN, WILL YOU ACCOMPANY DUGAN AND ME TO OUR HOME, TO BE HIS EVER-PRESENT COMPANION AND CARETAKER?”
Eiltin was a bit taken aback by the offer. For a few moments, she couldn’t speak. Prompted by Dugan with squeaks and titters, she finally found her voice.
“I—I would be honored,” she said at last.
Dugan squealed happily and fluttered a few feet off the ground, Eiltin catching him before he fell as his weak wings gave out. Dugan’s father crouched down low for Eiltin to climb onto his back to sit in the hollow where his neck met his shoulders. Eiltin spared only a few minutes on a tearful good-bye to her father, brother, and friend before climbing aboard with Dugan.
“Good luck, sister!” Murchadh shouted, waving wildly with Fial and Conall. “We’ll never forget you!”
“I’ll come back someday!” Eiltin called. “I promise! Good-bye!”
All other words were lost to the wind as the great, black dragon sprang up from the ground, expertly covering Laobhan’s remains with a showering of dirt. Fial, Conall, and Murchadh waved until they could not distinguish the blot that was the dragon from that of birds. Murchadh lowered his arm first, tears streaming down his face. His little sister, shyest of all the girls her age, yet also the wildest, was gone.
* * * * *
EPILOGUE: 10 YEARS LATER
EPILOGUE: 10 YEARS LATER
“Papa! Papa! Come quick, Papa!”
Murchadh bolted up from the table where he was figuring the costs and profits of his crops to dash into the yard where his eight year old daughter was jumping up and down and pointing to a large blot in the sky. Murchadh took one look at the blot and let out a loud whoop! His blonde little girl clung to him as the dragon circled around to land, flinging up loose dirt. Dugan was decked out in a fancy harness inlaid with gold, silver, and gems. Seated in the saddle was a tall, well-formed woman dressed in men’s clothes, all made of heavy leather. Eiltin slid down from the saddle and ran into Murchadh’s arms.
“Lord, you’ve grown, lass!” Murchadh exclaimed. “It’s good to see you.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed you, dear brother,” Eiltin sighed. “Dugan was begging me to come for a visit. He so missed you and Conall. You know, he still recalls how you and Conall saved that day. Which reminds me, where is the man?”
“I’ll send for him, never fear, Eiltin,” Murchadh said, ecstatic.
Eiltin smiled warmly at him and stepped out of his tight embrace.
“I did say I’d come back, Murchadh,” she said.
“I never doubted you, Eiltin,” Murchadh replied.
Later that night, Murchadh’s table was full to bursting. There was not only Murchadh, Eiltin, Conall, and Fial, but also Murchadh’s little girl, twin three-year-old boys, his wife, his mother, and Eiltin’s small son that she had brought with her. They talked late into the night, eating a hearty meal and preserving several goats for Dugan outside, who was quite content to curl up and sleep.
“So, my dear Eiltin,” Fial said at one point, his voice shaking with age, “might I ask who your husband is?”
Eiltin merely smiled evasively and sipped her coffee. Everyone laughed at Eiltin’s dodging the subject. The conversation merely became more and more relaxed from there. Eiltin and Dugan stayed a week, recounting their lives of the past ten years after they had left home. Finally, Dugan’s appetite had become too much, and they were forced to return to the dragons’ home. Murchadh was very pleased with how things had turned out. His sister and a dragon, lifelong partners; who would’ve guessed?
THE END
Pronunciation Guide
Conall: KUN al: strong as wolf
Dugan: DU gin: little dark lad
Eiltin: EL teen: deer, lively; nimble person
Fial: FEE ul: modest; honorable; generous
Laobhan: LAY vawn: rooked, skewed
Murchadh: MUR a kha: sea battle
Acknowledgements
There are a lot of people and internet websites I have to thank for being able to write (and finish) this amazing piece of perfection. First off, I must thank the people at http://www.namenerds.com/irish/ who provided all of the names, pronunciations, and name meaning. Also, for the splendid, if odd, curse on page four, a big thanks to all those wondrous people who compiled curses and blessings at http://www.maths.tcd.ie/gaeilge/general.html#A1.3. Info on the Keshcorran caves was from http://www.showcaves.com/english/ie/caves/Keshcorran.html.
And now for the people. I have to thank Nataani_Kade, of course, because she is my best friend and without her my imagination and creativity would surely have withered and died; orcdork29…I guess…because everyone needs a little comic relief in their lives and he was mine; R**** and wolfy_is_a_phreak, because of their odd takes on life and their way off thinking, as well as because wolfy let me borrow books from her (I love you, wolfy!); my mom, because she let me type on her laptop for hours on end, late into the night.
So there you have it. The team (of sorts) behind me has been recognized. Oh, and various books and music that I’ve read/listened to while writing/developing a storyline. Can’t forget that. Thanks, all of you!
