I’m confident that the dragon in question is steel, rather than iron. We saw this beauty at the Scottish Wild Foods Festival earlier this year. I’m not entirely sure why Tir na nog has a massive fire-breathing metal dragon. Now that I think about it a better question is: if you can have one, why wouldn’t you?
The fiend advanced in a shriek of iron against iron that skipped ears and cut straight to the soul. It opened its jaws and filled the air with white-hot fire. The canopy of leaves above the monster shrivelled in the heat then burst into flames.
Arthur’s spear shook in his hand. It seemed too feeble a weapon against this foe. He wished he had the bravery and might of his namesake, the King Arthur of legend who would surely have had no bother with such a vile monstrosity.
He retreated a step as the dragon screeched on past the final trees. In a few short minutes it would be within the fields that bordered his village. Arthur doubted he would last that long.
Shouting for help did no good. The words merely whispered from his fear-clenched throat. It wouldn’t have helped anyway. He was out here as punishment for being the boy who cried wolf one time too many. This evening, his father had told him that if he was so good at spotting wolves he could go out and stop them himself. Everyone else was fed up with him. No help would come. What could he do? Yelling ‘dragon’ was unlikely to change anyone’s mind about him.
Metal screamed into the night again as the dragon flexed its long neck to face Arthur. He raised his spear. If he had to die it should be facing his enemy. The dragon’s hide glowed orange in the spreading firelight. Arthur’s spear tip matched it in that. He spared a glance for his pathetic weapon. A toothpick from the dragon’s viewpoint, no doubt.
An arrow skimmed past his shoulder, between his ear and his raised arm. It plinked off the dragons iron hide which rang like a bell. A second arrow followed a moment later with as little effect.
“Move, fool!” came the shout from behind him. The most welcome voice he’d ever heard. His big sister, Margery.
Arthur dived to the side and flames licked the space where he had been standing. Margery had gone the other way, judging from the path of the next three arrows. The dragon held still as if it was considering which of them it should attack first.
Margery’s next arrow clattered uselessly against the iron fiend’s face. It was quickly followed by another. The arrow cut a whistling path through the air and slammed into the dragon’s burning ruby eye to the unmistakable sound of shattering stone.
The dragon roared. It’s neck writhed in pain as it lashed its head about, spewing flame into the night.
Arthur darted forward. His chance was now or never. Never would probably be the end of him. Also, he didn’t want to be out-done by his sister, who was only a year older. He rammed his spear at the dragon’s face. His aim was true. The spear tip slammed into the burning red eye. Both ruby and iron shattered on the impact.
The roars took on a desperate edge. Arthur thought then that it would be the end of them both. He pulled his spear back. Without its tip it was nearly worthless as a weapon. Just a stick to fight an armoured monster. It was all he had.
The dragon whipped around like a giant snake and screeched back into the forest.
Brandon Lim 