CHAPTER 11: 'The Dragon Corps News'
JONATHON
JOHNATHON STARED AT THE SKY
That small black speck was perhaps a fly.
For a moment, he thought it was Snatchgrin come home,
from wherever it was that the dragon would roam.
He turned as he heard Dag impatiently sigh.
"Come
on, John-John, let's please get this done!
'Snatchgrin returns when our needs he has won...'
You know the saying," said Dag with a smile.
"Don't worry, my boy. He'll be back in awhile.
Then you and your friends can go out and have fun."
Jonathon
grinned, but inside he sneered.
Dag was a fool, but a fool to be feared.
Not a few of the staff of the Dragon Corps News
had soon disappeared for expressing their views.
Jonathon thoughtfully tugged on his beard.
"So
tell me, Dag," the news scribe began,
"how Snatchgrin and you conceived this bold plan
to save a poor island lost in the sea.
You've told it before, but never to me.
Tell me as much as you can."
"You
newsboys ask me the same old things,"
said Dag as he nervously toyed with his big silver rings.
Yet this one was different, he'd been digging around.
Dag was unsure just what he had found.
Much was concealed beneath Snatchgrin's broad wings.
Dagoberto
began where he always began,
cooling his sweat with a small golden fan....
"Snatchgrin remains, the last of his breed.
His glorious race preceded our seed.
Dragons were ancient before the First Man..."
"They
ruled over land, over sky, over sea,
a benevolent race marked by harmony.
A civilization rivaled by none,
they crowded the skies beneath the bright sun.
They skimmed the tops of the tallest tree..."
Jonathon
had heard this maybe ten times before,
in Dragon Corps features, which were always a bore.
Dag continued: "I found one day on an Iberian beach
a large bird-like creature that emitted a screech.
And the rest of the story... but need I say more?"
Indeed,
the news scribe could recite it by heart...
How Dag had discovered the creature was smart...
How it reached out its wing and nuzzled his leg...
How its body still bore some pieces of egg...
How 'Dag, dragonmaster' had gotten his start.
Dag
believed that the egg had come out of the sea,
where shifting sands had once set it free.
It must have been snatched by a long-ago tide,
for the last living dragon had long-ago died.
But here was another -- and Dag heard its plea!
One
day, Dag rode the dragon, he'd mastered the skill.
Riding a dragon is a considerable thrill.
They soared over mountains and skimmed over seas,
they traversed whole countries with the greatest of ease.
They were searching for just the right hill.
Then,
out in the ocean, quite far from land
they discovered a mountain rising up from some sand.
A volcano, really, that was long since dead,
an ideal place for an adult dragon's bed.
A finer nest could not have been planned.
"You
know the rest," said Dag
hurriedly.
"We discovered the city and its dire poverty.
Searching out shipwrecks, we returned with great treasure,
Life on this island turned from anguish to pleasure.
Snatchgrin has altered things drastically..."
Jonathon
tried hard to hold his tongue.
What Dagoberto said was nothing but dung!
The dragon's great treasures all soon disappeared.
Snatchgrin beloved? The dragon was feared!
By the rich and the poor, the old and the young...
True,
there were festivals now and again,
and a little more bread in the stores now and then.
But the ones who lives were now filled with ease,
who now had no fear that in winter they'd freeze,
were the ones who were quietly scorned as 'Dag's Men.'
"Can
we finish this up? I've much work to do,"
Dag said testily. Then, as if on cue,
an assistant appeared on Dag's Turkish rug.
His arms were crossed, just like any good thug.
"I hope," Dag remarked, "that I've satisfied you."
Then,
Jonathon asked what he'd come here to ask.
He took a deep breath to prepare for the task.
"There's one more thing. Some children have found
treasure that Snatchgrin had dropped on the ground..."
Dag's face remained in impenetrable mask.
Then,
he exploded. "You burst
in on my unexpectedly
with your asinine questions while I'm having tea!
No treasure was found, it's an idle report!
And now I'm cutting this interview short.
Curse you and your rude curiousity!"
Dag
stood and turned to address his thug,
who looked at the news scribe
and gave him a shrug.
"Escort him out!" Dag said with a cry.
Then Jonathon noticed a spot in the sky.
This time, it wasn't a bug.
Then,
to the news scribe it all became clear --
Dag was so anxious because Snatchgrin was near.
The folks in the town saw the dragon in flight,
Snatchgrin appeared like a high-flying kite.
Then into his dragon-hole Snatchgrin would steer.
Dag
wouldn't allow anyone to view
Snatchgrin return from wherever he flew.
That was why Jonathon had appeared without warning,
hoping that Snatchgrin would return on this morning.
And also to ask what he already knew.
For
he'd found a youth who'd discovered the sack
(two of the others had never come back).
As the boy had just recently learned how to read
Jonathon had hardly to beg or to plead
to hear the king's words that had come with the pack.
"You
made him mad," said the thug with a smirk --
he had the hands of a butcher, the face of a clerk.
At Dag's front gate, he pushed John-John outside.
"You'd better get lost if you value your hide.
You'd be smart to consider a change in your work!"
The
scribe didn't look back as he trudged down the path.
Still shocked, but quite pleased, by Dag's unhidden wrath.
Could it be true -- the King's note in the loot?
Was Snatchgrin a fraud, and a killer to boot?!
His mind spun as if he were working on math.
He
ducked off the path and into some trees.
The forest was
silent except for
some bees.
He raised his head
and stared at the
skies.
Then his mouth
dropped open, he
widened
his eyes...
Snatchgrin came
riding in on a
breeze.
He seemed long
as a bridge and
the
color
of mud.
His great jaws
were chewing like
a cow
chews its
cud.
As wind whipped
the trees from
the flap
of each
wing,
Jonathon noticed
one other thing...
Snatchgrin was
covered in blood.
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