The sound pulled him back through the labyrinth of time and up from the roots of the world. He rolled open the outer lid of his golden orb, blinked once. A sigh expanded his scaly ribs and pushed a wisp of smoke from his snout. He shifted his head out from under his forearm. It sent a cascade of gold coins bouncing down the mound of his hoard.
Silence.
A shuddered sob came from the small cave. They were so fragile these pale human maidens. This one only cried when she thought he was asleep. Most didn’t survive the flight back to the mountain. Others refused to eat the offerings from his fresh kills and had wasted away. A few fled from his fortress only to die on the mountain side ill equipped to travel in the harsh wilderness.
Always the humans left the maidens with the tribute he collected each year; gold for a promise to hunt in other pastures, on other livestock. He didn’t understand their need to sacrifice their daughters. Every year he carried them away.
Metal clad lads with swords girded around their waists and a lance across their shoulders followed some. The bodies littered the rocky base of his fortress. If they had only come to rescue the women he would have gladly sent them back down the mountain with the maid in their arms. Always they thought first to kill the beast. He was too old and wise to become prey to heroes.
Of all the offerings this one he had come to love. Her hair matched the color of his golden treasure. He’d lined her cave with jewels and glittering coins. She had taught him to use his fire on the meat she ate. But most important she sang. She filled the vast chambers of his fortress with music.
He turned his head to peer into her small chamber. Her tiny hands covered her mouth; her eyes filled with horror. “No,” she cried flinging out her arms to him. A flash of light against metal caught his attention as a broadsword pierced the pupil of his eye and imbedded itself into his brain. His lungs disgorged its fire as he writhed in the throes of death. Finally he lay still as his life ebbed away. His weeping songbird draped across his neck while the knight filled saddle bags with gold.
Another Flash Fiction I wrote for a writing contest on writing.com. Genre: Fantasy
