The sun glistened off the rippling water in the fountain and cast a shadow over the face of the dragon statue standing guard in the center. He hated this time of day, despised the sun shining in his face, detested the scorching heat, and absolutely loathed with every cell of his being that he was helpless to do anything about it.
The dragon, once known as Banning, a powerful Guardsman, next in line to rule the Lunar-White Dragons, could still hear the old crone’s cackle as she sentenced him to a living death nearly two centuries ago. “When the moon turns red and darkness falls on the land, then and only then, will your human form return. But be warned, as soon as the first rays of the sun peak over the trees and the next morning dawns, you will return to bronze, frozen in time. True release, escape from the prison of your hubris and vanity, can only come if the One the Universe has made for you professes her undying love.”
He’d been so young and foolish. His brethren had told him to let her go. Told him she wasn’t long for this world, couldn’t survive without the combined strength of her coven, but Banning would not be deterred. He wanted the victory, craved the glory, needed to feel the power in his blade as he separated her head from her neck.
The hunt had been invigorating, racing over hill and dale, through the densest parts of the Black Forest, following the evil taint of the old witch. Hate had clouded his senses, made him reckless, led him into a trap that had he been in his right mind, the Guardsman would have easily avoided.
Jumping off his horse, Banning sped toward what had once been a work of architectural wonder but now stood in ruins from years of neglect and abuse at the hands of evil doers. Slashing through the wall of thorny brambles growing from column to column, the heels of his black thigh-high riding boots struck the rotting floor boards of the porch a split-second before he burst through the front door, leaving the decaying wood hanging from a single hinge. With his sword at the ready, the Guardsman quickly checked each room from attic to kitchen and was heading for the back door when the sound of steps underfoot alerted him to the witch’s presence.
Using the preternatural senses of his kind, the Guardsman pinpointed her exact location, immediately making his way down the crooked and creaking stairway into the dark, dank cellar. The stench of rancid blood, fetid flesh, and mildewing herbs assaulted his senses as he took in the many jars, vials, and vessels filled with the grotesque tools of her trade.
Following the trail of black magic, Banning delved farther into the darkness. Crouching to avoid running into the rough rocks overhead as the cellar narrowed to a small earthen tunnel, his blade leading the way as the dragon crept ever closer to his prey. The pungent odor of black magic permeated the very air he breathed, its grotesque fingers reaching for him from the shadows. A light flickered at the end of the shaft, quickly followed by a ghostly figure and the whisper of bat wings. Quickening his pace, the thrill of a sure victory fueled his pursuit as the corner of his mouth curled in anticipation.
Bursting out of the corridor, brandishing his sword, Banning found himself all alone in a candlelit cavern as he bellowed, “Show yourself, Crone! You’ll not escape the doom Fate has planned for you.”
Spinning in circles, ready to take on any and all comers, the Guardsman’s perusal slowed as the slithering runes on the wall began to take shape. Painted in human blood, the symbols pulsed with the power of the witch’s malignant mysticism.
Ignoring the apprehension suddenly slithering down his spine and his dragon’s ominous growl, Banning roared, “Enough of the parlor tricks, Witch! There is nowhere to run, nowhere to hide! Show yourself and face your doom!”
The ground beneath his feet began to shake. An evil cackle filled the cavern, rebounding off the stone walls, bombarding his senses with misdirection as a ring of fire burst to life, capturing the Guardsman before he could react. Flames bounced off the ceiling where silver chains dangled like snakes from the trees of the rainforest, the shackles snapping and reaching for his limbs.
“Parlor tricks?” The witch’s shrill screech felt like shards of glass shredding his eardrums. “I will show you parlor tricks, you insolent, insignificant lizard.”
Cuffs snapped around his wrists. Banning’s sword flew from his grasp. His arms were yanked over his head. His feet snatched from the floor. The flesh of his wrists and ankles bubbled and burned from the tainted silver, but through it all, the Guardsman refused to abandon his mission, continuing to taunt, “Mere sleight of hand and childish magic. You are weak. Pathetic. Scared to face me.”
The quaking ceased. The fire extinguished. The flames of the candles surrounding the perimeter of the cave jumped and danced, their smoldering tongues licking at the high stone ceiling.
A plume of smoke, so pungent his eyes watered, sprang from the center of the pentagram Banning now saw on the floor beneath him. A tornado of fiery air howled through the stone enclosure, clearing away the acrid mist, revealing the old crone standing front and center.
With the hood of her tattered cloak thrown back, her gnarled features and onyx eyes were even more pronounced and hideous than he’d first imagined. Black veins, filled with the venom of her dark magic, snaked across her leathery, pox-marked face. Her wrinkles deepened to bottomless caverns as she opened her mouth, revealing rotted teeth and a gray tongue as she spat, “Insults and empty threats will not save you from the repercussions of your imprudence. You are caught like a fly in the spider’s web and now you shall pay for not only your sins, but the sins of all your kind. The blood of my sisters still wet the ground, their heads severed from their necks by the blades of the mighty dragons.” Mockery hung thick in the air, a twisted grin cracking the skin of her thin, black lips. “The Universe’s chosen warriors. Pfft!” she scoffed. “Scaly bastards with an exaggerated sense of self-importance and uncontrollable bloodlust is more like it.”
With a wave of her hand, the circle of fire once again sprang to life, malice tainting her every insult as she continued, “But today is the day I strike back, the day you pay for the injustices thrust upon all my brothers and sisters that you and your kin have slain. Today…”
“Stop your rant, you worthless bag of bones,” Banning jeered, interrupting the crone’s raving, mocking her with his every word. “Spare me your empty platitudes. Kill me. Save me from the torment of your irritating tone. Assault me no longer with your offensive visage. It would be a blessing to ascend into the Heavens simply to escape your presence.”
Leaning heavily on the knotted wood of her cane, the crone tapped the tip of the dirt-encrusted nail of her free hand on her bloodless bottom lip, her grin stretching into an evil smile. Taking a step forward, she chuckled, “Oh, you shall not die, Dragon, for death is too good for the likes of you. No, you shall live forever, suspended in time, watching your kin perish and the world you sought to save destroyed, helpless to do anything but observe. You shall be encased in bronze, only able to take your human form on the infrequent occasions that the earth eclipses the moon and only until the sun dawns on the next day.”
Throwing her head back, the witch’s maniacal cackle once again filled the chamber as she uttered the curse, sealing Banning’s fate, stealing his future…extinguishing the fire in his soul.
A whisper, as soft as silk, as tender as a lover’s caress, reached into the darkness of his hell on earth, breaking the spell of Banning’s memories, returning him to the here and now. Listening intently to the murmured plea, something deep within his soul sprang to life. The Dragon King whom he’d been paired with all those decades ago raised its mighty head as the Guardsman’s heart beat with renewed vigor within the deep recesses of his impenetrable bronze prison.
“I know this is silly,” the woman nervously chuckled. “Making a wish to a fountain. Throwing a coin into a pool of water and praying for a miracle, but I don’t know what else to do.”
He could see her staring up at him, hope bright in her hypnotic hazel eyes, her words gaining confidence with each syllable that crossed her beautiful lips.
“When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me stories of the magic of dragons and of their great heroics. She believed they were warriors for the people and not the fire-breathing beasts told in the tales of most storybooks.”
The sun danced upon the highlights in her long, toffee-cream-colored hair, its waves cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Tiny freckles, like kisses from the angels, swept across the creamy skin of her cheeks and the bridge of her pert nose, but it was the soft pink of her mouth and the pain he felt radiating from the depths of her soul that called to not only the man, but also his dragon.
“So, here I am,” she sighed, her elegant fingers brushing back the tiny wisps of hair flowing around her expressive face. “Standing in the park, talking to a statue, praying Mom was right. Pleading with God, or the Universe, or Fate for some of that magic she used to talk about to heal the unknown disease eating away at her body, slowing her heart, killing her, one agonizing breath at a time.”
Tears streamed down her face as she knelt on the marble surrounding the fountain. “The doctors have no answers. Modern medicine has given up. The machines keeping her alive are only prolonging the inevitable.” Her voice cracked, unshed tears filling her eyes. “But I can’t let her go. I can’t lose her. She’s all I have left in this world.” Her chin fell to her chest, the words of her next whispered plea wrapped around Banning’s heart, threatening to rip it from his chest. “I would gladly give my life in exchange for hers.”
He watched, unable to move, to respond, to do anything as the silver coin she held tightly in her hand slid through her delicate fingers, disappearing into the cool waters beneath him.
“NO!” Banning shouted from the deep recesses of his mind, shocking not only himself, but the woman as well.
“What?” She sprang to her feet, looking from side-to-side, demanding, “Who’s there? Who said that?”
Spinning first one way and then the other, she stopped, blushing as she nervously chuckled, “Oh great! Now, I’m hearing things.” Once again fidgeting with her hair, a gesture he could tell only happened when she was nervous or out of sorts, the young woman added, “Guess I really do need to get some sleep.” Pausing and looking up, she smiled, “Thanks Dragon Man, even though I know you’re just a statue, it really helped to have someone simply listen.”
Watching her walk away, helpless to do anything but stare, the Guardsman cursed Destiny for his impotence and vexed the witch who’d sentenced him to a fate worse than death. He damned a world in which a woman as beautiful and pure of heart as the one he’d just witnessed was made to suffer, but most of all, he waded through a swamp of his own guilt for his foolhardy actions all those centuries ago.
Inspired for the first time in all his years, Banning counted the days since he’d last taken human form. He spoke with the dragon of his soul and called to the dormant magic flowing through his veins. Hour by hour, the two great warriors conspired, so that by the time the sun set on that very day, they had formulated a plan.
Pleased with their progress, the Guardsman once again allowed himself to think of the young woman. The image of her sitting beside him begging for help replayed again and again in his mind, his heart beating more passionately with each viewing.
The success of his plan hinged on his magic and that of his beast filling every cell of his body over the next few days. He needed to sleep, had to conserve his energy for what was to come.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Banning looked forward to the total eclipse of the moon. He couldn’t wait for the darkness to descend, to feel his prison melt away and his feet to touch the cool, dewy grass once more. He’d finally found his purpose…his direction. One miraculous wish from a beautiful woman had breathed new life into his cold, dead spirit, and the Guardsman was holding on to it with every ounce of his abundant strength.
Closing his eyes, the Guardsman’s thoughts whispered through his mind as he forced himself to rest. “Sleep well, my fair maiden. Lay your worries at my feet. I shall not fail you…”