The young squire’s eyes flared open.
Pain tore through his midsection as he jolted upright. Dazed and alarmed, he took in his unfamiliar surroundings.
His eyes swept over sandstone walls - illuminated by flickering torchlight from crude braziers set at symmetrical intervals around the circular room. He surmised from the dank air hanging heavy in the cramped space that he was deep within a cave. Blood seeped through a rudimentary bandage wound around his bare stomach: a stark reminder of the gruesome fate that had befallen the rest of his compatriots.
What the squire couldn’t recall was how he arrived here. His last memories were of an arduous trek through a sweltering desert canyon; the whistling of crude arrows raining down upon the band of adventurers; silhouettes of terrifying assailants with spindly limbs and elongated necks; a searing agony exploding in his side when he was skewered by a dragonbone spearhead. After that, all was darkness and oblivion.
He felt the earth shift and quake beneath him; then a rush of scorching, sulfurous air.
“Art thou awake at last, usurper?” a thunderous voice rumbled. “How strange that my children left thee alive.”
“Wh-where am I?” the squire stammered - he had a dreadful feeling that he knew all too well where he was, and who it was he conversed with.
“Why, thou art in the place thee and thy doomed companions so foolishly sought, of course. What wilt thou do now that thou art indeed here?”
“You must know that we came for the Chalice.”
“Ah, of course thou art after my most prized possession: a long lost relic of the Heavens. Have I been dormant for so long that men hath forgotten me?”
“W-we heard stories, but we didn’t believe them.”
“And what dost thou believeth now?!” the snarling query was thick with menace and foreboding.
“I b-believe we never should’ve come here.”
“Thou art correct, foolish usurper. Yet thou art already here, and, soon enough, thou wilt have thy opportunity to claim the Chalice.”
The squire stumbled out into blinding daylight and blazing heat. His bloodstained tunic was shredded, and his armor rent in several places from the beast’s jagged teeth and claws: All that remained of his once gleaming sword was a gory, broken blade.
And - looped to his belt by a leather thong - hung the Angel’s Chalice: glittering and resplendent.
Somewhere, far behind the newly christened knight, the defeated dragon bellowed in rage and anguish from deep within his lair.
Author’s Note: This flash fiction story was inspired by the Dragon prompt from
. While I did my utmost to stay within their 300 word limit, I was entirely unable to tell this story (to my satisfaction) in less than precisely 416 words.If you enjoyed reading my Thoughts™, consider showing your appreciation by helping to make my dream of quitting my day job a reality.
Great short fiction, surprising ending! A perfect example of how the strength of the human spirit can defy the greatest of odds. And while I would really love to see the full thing, not showing the final battle between the squire and the dragon felt fitting for the impact of the twist, and was somewhat reminiscent of the ending of The Most Dangerous Game. Excellent work as always!
Smaug vibes