A Dragon's Mid-Knight

Or All Dragons Great and Small

As the subtitle suggests, I’m a big fan of James Herriot’s books. I’e taken them as inspiration for an… unusual fantasy tale.

Sir Gerard the Brave looked up at the Scarred Mountains. He had a job to do, and it involved the great red dragon known as Tyrn the Magnificent. There were stories that Tyrn had been rampaging through the countryside more so than usual. The people needed him, if there was to be any relief. He double-checked that he had the tools of his trade secured and spurred his mount onward. 

By David Demaret, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47322589

He hadn't reached the mountain's top before the roaring became audible. The sounds were those of pain, not just of anger. Gerard had dealt with dragons and other great beasts for most of his forty years. In that time, he'd become expert in discerning the difference in various calls. It meant that there wasn't much time. A dragon in pain was a hundred times more dangerous. He stopped outside of the massive cave opening and dismounted. He shouldered the massive leather satchel and left his sword in its place on his saddle. 

The cave's entrance yawned before him. The stench of sulfur and dragon dung wafted out to him. That was a bad sign. The former meant that the dragon had vomited and the latter meant that it hadn't been maintaining its lair. Dragons were fastidious creatures when it came to cleanliness. He dipped a hand into his belt pouch and when he pulled it back out the tip of one gloved finger glistened. He flipped up his visor and painted his full, curled mustache with the ointment. The scent of herbs filled his enormous nose. 

With his visor flipped back down, he continued forward. The crystals on the inside of his helm allowed him to see even in the darkness of the cave. Its padding kept the creature's noises from deafening him. He hadn't gone a dozen yards into the cave when those roars took on the form of words.

"Creature, I know not who you are, but you have chosen a poor time to explore my lands." Tyrn's words were hardly as clear as human speech. The sword-like teeth and forked tongue made enunciation difficult, but Gerard was able to make sense of them.

"I come with no weapons and nothing but peace in my heart. I am Sir Gerard, known by many of your kind as a friend. May I enter your home?" He projected his words as loudly and clearly as he could.

There was a pause of ten heartbeats. "You may. If you lie, then I will roast you alive."

Gerard allowed himself a smile. Tyrn may yet roast him alive if he wasn't careful. He moved slowly and deliberately. Sudden movement could be a death sentence. He came around the corner, and the massive wyrm filled his vision. Tyrn was truly magnificent, as long from tip of tail to snout as ten men. The wing shape and number of horns confirmed one thing at least. Tyrn was female. He couldn't discern color as well through his magical visor, so there was no easy way to tell if her scales were a healthy ruby color. But he could see a scattering of excrement piles as well as a few clumps of the partially digested corpses Tyrn had regurgitated.

"As you can see, my home is not what one such as you might expect."

Gerard bowed slightly. "You’re not well. I’m here to help you. Can you tell me how long you've been pregnant?"

Tyrn's eyes narrowed as a large cat's might just before it ate you. "How do you know?"

Dragons were very protective of any knowledge regarding their life cycle. When you had as low a reproductive rate as they did, that made some degree of sense. "If you've heard enough stories about me, you know that I have studied your kind my entire life. And I've served one of the greatest masters of your lore among my own kind."

The next words were ones which always sent a chill through Gerard's heart. "Aye, Master Piotr, a great dragon killer." Tyrn's words dripped with venom.

Gerard bowed again. "I can't disagree with you. He killed many of your kind and studied their bodies. He also studied their behavior. I've taken that knowledge and have used it to heal and help. That's all I am here to do."

"Twenty months." The wyrm hissed.

Gerard grunted. "That is a bit long for your kind. You are overdue by at least a fortnight."

Tyrn rumbled. "Tell me that which I do not know." She flexed a massive clawed hand. "If you are here to help, then help."

"I am." He started forward, moving slowly. "I need to examine you." 

She moved to present her side to him and lay upon it, exposing her belly. Many a man had taken this as a sign of submission or weakness. They forgot, to their peril, that it allowed all four of the dragon's claws to be used as weapons. 

He hissed. Her belly was swollen. The amount of discomfort she was in had to be awful. "I must have more light." He lay down his roll and reached into his pouch, moving slowly. The crystal he brought out shone with pure white radiance. He removed his helm so he could use that light to see. Her scales were a sickly shade of pink where the light touched them. He knelt beside his leather satchel and unrolled it. 

Tyrn's head rose and she bared her fangs. "Those are not weapons, I trust?"

He shook his head, sweat-soaked black hair moving as a mass. "Of course not. The tools of my trade." Many of them looked a little like weapons. "I will use them only if I have to. May I approach?"

Her head flopped back down and she groaned. "Yes."

Gerard stepped up to the massive wyrm's belly. The amount of heat it gave off was incredible, like a well-stoked campfire. He put his gloved hand on her. Beneath the scales, there was movement. Many dragons gave birth to live young, unlike smaller serpents. "You child is the wrong way 'round. I can help with that, but you may not like it."

"Anything to give me relief and allow my child to live." She snorted and moaned again, though to the untrained ear it sounded like an angry bull about to charge. 

A lesser man would have soiled himself. Gerard, even after all of his time working with creatures that could bite him in half, nearly did. He breathed as deeply as the foul air allowed and moved towards her tail. He could see her body was prepared to give birth. The dragonling inside her was ready to come out. He suspected it would only take a little manipulation. The tricky part was some of that manipulation would have to take place inside.

He walked back towards her head. "Tyrn. I will have to reach inside you and coax the life in you in the right direction. There will be pain for you and danger for me."

Tyrn lifted her head and looked at him. "I won't harm you."

"I know you say you won't. And I know in your birth pains, you may forget that. I'm less worried about that though, than I am about your dragonling. The life inside you has teeth and claws of its own. And it doesn't have your maturity. I'm willing to risk life and limb."

"You want something in exchange? You will have your life."

"Or I will lose it. Either way, if you succeed in giving birth with my help, I want my weight in gold to be set outside once you are able."

Tyrn's eyes widened and she snorted. "You are a bold human to come in here and demand payment. I should roast you where you stand."

This was the time for true bravery, the kind it took to stand in front of the wyrm and do nothing. "You can do that. If you do, you and your child will die. We will all be dead then." He waited.

"I promise you will have your gold and more. Deliver my child." She lay her head back down.

Gerard walked over to where his bag lay. He reached down and unrolled what appeared to be a thick leather bedroll. He shook it out and drew it on over his right arm. He had worked with a number of craftsmen to make the unusual glove. The thick leather and interior quilting would protect him from the dragon's internal fires. The metal armature extended his reach and grasping strength. The most important part was where the sigils had been painstakingly worked into every square inch. He would be able to feel what he was doing, after a fashion.

He clenched his fist and the fingers of the glove did likewise. "This will be the hardest part."

"Get it over with, human."

After retrieving and donning his helm, Gerard walked to the dragon's rear and inserted his hand into the opening of the birth canal. 

Tyrn screamed at the invasion. The scent of sulfurous smoke filled the already rank air. There existed curses in draconian languages. The filth that left her mouth was among the most vile.

"There's a girl," Gerard muttered. His helm pressed against her flank. Natural secretions made the manipulations that followed easier. He had done similar jobs with cows and sheep that were having problems birthing. After a few minutes of searching, he found what he believed to be a rear leg. The claws on the tips of the appendage would have easily separated his flesh from bone. He marveled at how tough a dragon mother's womb was. "Alright, little one, work with me." He pushed, trying to encourage the dragonling to come around. Much like any human or bovine baby, nature intended for this one to come head first. 

The heat was nearly intolerable. Tyrn's back left foot twitched. With reflexes born and honed on battlefields, Gerard moved just enough for them to miss. "I know you don't mean it, but you have to hold still." He spoke loudly enough for her to hear, but in her current state she may not be listening. Uncountable minutes crept by as he continued to try and encourage the baby to turn. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and Tyrn's powerful muscles threatened to crush his arm. If it weren't for the craftsmanship of his gauntlet, they would have succeeded. Still, his own groans joined Tyrn's. 

Eventually, he had to admit that this approach wasn't working. He withdrew his arm, the leather covered in smoking goo. He breathed through his mouth and walked towards the tools. From one of the leather bag's pockets, he pulled a length of mithril chain. He saw a pair of forceps with arms the length of a sword and hoped he wouldn't have to use them. The chain was the next best bet. He returned to his station behind Tyrn.

He clipped one end of the chain around his wrist. A clever dwarf had forged it so there was almost no chance of it coming loose. He wrapped the length of chain around his forearm again and again until only enough slack was left to hold in his oversized palm. If the end attached to him was clever, this end was ingenious. The chain was so fine and flexible it was almost rope woven from metal threads. The loop would hopefully snare the dragonling's forelimb, and he could pull it out. He opened it over his mystical glove. With a practiced motion, he should be able to grab a leg, shake the loop over it, and jerk the loop closed.

He inserted his fist into Tyrn's birth canal for a second and hopefully last time. 

"Human, if you have to do that again I will find and eat every one of your family..." Her sentence ended in the scream from a contraction.

Gerard answered with a bellow of his own. He shoved the arm in as deeply as it would go. Even his shoulder began to disappear. He thanked the gods that he could feel what was going on at the end of his leather fingertips only after a fashion. The dragonling's claws scratched at every inch they could. He felt what he was certain was a foreleg grasp at him, and then there was an almost unbearable pressure. The soon-to-be newborn had clamped down on his intruding hand with its jaws. Teeth, hardly more than six weeks from sprouting free of newly made jaws, worried at his glove. 

His own curses flew fast and thick. "Your baby is as lively as you are." He jerked his hand free and grabbed for the forelimb. After two misses, he had it firmly in his grip. "Got you, my pretty." He felt the metal lasso move over his closed fingers and around the captured limb. He jerked his hand back and felt it stop as the loop did its work. Now it was time to reel the baby in. Or out in this case.

Gerard took a few steps back and planted his feet. "When I yell, you need to push."

"So tired." The great and mighty Tyrn had struggled with birthing this child for weeks. The process would have killed almost any other creature in creation. 

"You can do this. You are Tyrn the Magnificent." He took the slack out of the chain and gave it an experimental pull. The dragonling would come out, but only if the mother was able to push. He could guide it the short distance it needed to come. Only if he had a block and tackle or a team of men could he pull it free on his own. 

"I can't. Leave me to die, human."

"That, I can't do. If you die then this life inside you will die."

Tyrn shook her head. "It will live. Eventually, it will claw its way out. Such things have happened before."

"It needs you as a mother. If you do not push then I will cut it from you and kill it myself." He hated to speak the lie but prayed it would motivate her.

She raised her head and glared at him. Where her eyes had dulled, they now blazed with life. "You dare to threaten my unborn?" Smoke drooled from one nostril. 

"If it gives up on life as easily as you do, I'd be doing it a favor. Without a mother to rear it, it would be nothing more than fodder for a hunter in a few months, a year at most. Your hoard would be scattered to the wind." 

Flames shot out from Tyrn's maw, bathing the knight in their fierce heat. Thankfully the breath didn't last long and wasn't as hot as it would have been were she a healthy dragon. 

Gerard stood, using the chain as a way to stay upright. "That's it. Get angry. Just push, now!" He screamed the last word and pulled on the chain.

The mother pushed and screamed. The resulting noise could be heard for leagues in any direction.

The knight felt something give and staggered back a dozen steps. When he regained his balance, he could see a pair of paws and a head protruding from beneath Tyrn's tail. He rushed forward and grabbed the young creature behind its shoulders. It snapped at him, but he had it in a grip that made reaching him difficult. The dragonling was covered in blood and birth fluids. Maintaining the hold he had for more than a minute would be challenging. He used what strength he had to twist its body sideways.

It cleared the birth canal completely and landed with a wet thump. The calls the dragonling let out were both pitiful and terrifying. It was hungry, and in a matter of minutes, it would have the speed and strength to do serious damage to a man. 

Gerard freed his chain and threw it and his glove onto the leather case. With a few practiced motions, he bundled it all up and had it ready to throw on his back. 

"Knight." Tyrn's voice grated behind him. 

He turned to see that the dragonling was male, and it had already begun feasting on some of its mother's regurgitations. "Yes, Tyrn."

"You threatened me and my child." Tyrn had the strength to sit upright and move forward a few paces. "That is not something easily forgiven."

He stood still, knowing that he had a tool in his case that would make an effective weapon if it came to that. "I did. It was merely to..."

"Motivate me. I know. I could have killed you a half dozen times. You are brave. What you've done here will be taught to my son and to his sons and daughters. You can leave my cave in peace. Come back in three days, and I promise your payment will be awaiting you at the Scarred Mountains' base." 

Gerard backed slowly towards the mouth of the cave. "I thank you, Great Tyrn." He knew he could trust the dragon. Though they wouldn't think twice of killing man or beast, a promise given freely was never broken. 

"You should also know you've done the surrounding villages no great boon. I have a dragonling to feed, and I'll need to feed in order to regain my strength. If you'd let me die, then you were probably right about my child dying."

He spread out his arms. "You are right. Perhaps I've done them no favor, but both you and the humans who live around you will know a dragon and a human can work together. Perhaps your son will be less likely to eat my grandson. The world is dangerous. All we can do is work to make it less deadly for those around us, no matter what they look like."

Smoke curled from both her nostrils, and she gave what looked like a smile. "True enough." She looked at her son. "Come, Jerd, let mother get you clean."

Gerard hurried and marveled at how closely the child's name sounded to his own. Tyrn wouldn't admit it, but he hoped his help had more of an impact on her than she let on. He couldn't be happier to see his horse or to smell the fresh mountain air. He spurred the charger on to the nearest village. He heard a rumor that there was a clutch of abandoned hippogriff eggs in the Southern Lands. If he hurried, he could get there before they hatched.