Chapter 13: Chapter Thirteen – Dragon-Mother

When Wroth was about nineteen years old, he saw his mother coming out of his father’s den. Her tattered garment was torn anew, and her gray lips were bleeding black blood due to the unwanted attention of Calamitous.

Since Rancorous no longer came to the gray-Ancient for the black mushrooms, he now just simply took her by force, and in their struggles, she would often leave as many marks upon him as he left upon her. Moreover, with every violation, her hatred for her husband festered and grew all the more potent.

“Why do we stay here, Mother?!?” Wroth asked with anger in his tone.

“Now that he has defiled me, what other man would have me?” Rancorous replied with a hiss.

“I am the only man you need in your life,” the teenager announced with firm resolution. “No matter where we go, I will take care of you, Mother.”

“I know you will.” Her expression softened, and she lovingly caressed his young face with her gray withered hand. “But in what other land could we live?!? Besides, this is our home too, and I will not leave it to be enjoyed by him alone.”

Wroth sighed with frustration. “Yes, but how do we stop him from stealing you away to his cave whenever the urge strikes him?”

“Someday, you will become a mighty man.” Rancorous replied while kissing her son’s brow. “You will slay your cruel father and rule Fangland in his stead.”

Wroth’s expression darkened. “He is a giant next to me, for I come only to his belt. How could I ever be so mighty that I could kill my father?”

His mother considered this for a moment, and then her black eyes narrowed. “He often grumbles about a she-Dragon who lives in the north. He speaks of her cunning in his sleep. You must seek out this Dragon and ask help of her.”

Wroth recalled also hearing his father cursing a Dragon named Wormtongue. “The creature must be very powerful indeed if she troubles my father,” he mused aloud, and then he seemed to come to a decision. “I will go and ask for this Dragon’s help.”

His mother nodded her agreement, but with a fearful look, she warned him to be wary.

So it was that Wroth traveled north to see the flying serpent about whom his father so often muttered and grumbled. Beyond the idea of usurping his father’s place at the head of the clan, Wroth was also eager to see what kind of creature could have caused the huge giant so much misery.

After leaving the towering pillars of his home, Wroth walked out across the empty gray-desert for two days until he came to the jagged slopes of the Black Mountains.

Without hesitation, he began to climb, and thus he soon found a narrow pass that led into the Vale of Shadows. However, when he came through the pass, he did not find a dark valley stretching out before him. Instead, he discovered that the whole vale had filled so deeply with snow that it was now less than a valley and more like a shallow bowl-shaped plateau.

Striking out across the white seemingly endless plain, he soon found himself wading through many inches of freshly fallen snow with benumbed feet. Moreover, the snow fell so thickly around him that he could see only but a few yards in the distance.

Thus, he traveled for one more day seeking the Dragon, until finally, he came to a place where the snow did not fall, and overhead, the clouds slowly swirled like the eye of a storm. In that place there was a crater where it looked like something huge and heavy had struck the earth long ago.

Approaching the depression, Wroth peered over its rim and saw, for the first time, the Tree of Deepshadows and the she-Dragon who ever guarded it. At the sight of the flying serpent, the young Grayling was immediately filled with a terror so great that it caused him to quake and tremble. He was so frightened by the view that he began to turn and crawl away.

“What brings the son of Calamitous before me this day?” Wormtongue suddenly asked while never opening her black eyes.

Her deep voice was like thunder rumbling out of the crater to Wroth's pointed ears, and the teen couldn’t answer for fear.

“Speak, boy!” the Dragon raised her great head and demanded with a slightly annoyed tone. “Have I not asked you a question?”

The serpent's louder words and her sudden movement caused Wroth to turn with a flinch and spout the words that would not come before.

“My father spoke of you, and so I wanted to see you for myself,” the young man responded nervously.

“Or perhaps, you’ve come to avenge your father; to settle some debt he thinks I owe. Is this not true?” the she-Dragon asked accusingly.

“No!” he replied louder than he intended and then clapped his colorless hand over his mouth. After a fearful pause, he continued in a quieter tone. “No, my father doesn’t even know I’m here. He has nothing to do with me,” he admitted these last words with a hint of sadness.

“And now that you’ve seen me?” she asked tilting her great horned head.

“I… Uh… I…” The teenager struggled to answer, for the Dragon-fear was still so strong upon him that he could not untangle his tongue or even his thoughts.

“You are your father’s son!” the flying serpent cackled. “He has a very dull intellect as well!”

This enraged Wroth, and suddenly he found his voice. “I’m nothing like my father!” He stamped his gray foot in the dust and almost shouted the words. “He’s a giant, but I'm small and powerless! I can’t even eat unless he brings me the food!!”

Wormtongue drew back her horned head, took in a huge breath, and then roared at the teen while thrusting her head forward. The scorching wind from her gaping jaws blew back the young man’s black hair and caused him to stagger. Before her roaring was done, Wroth threw himself upon the ground and trembled uncontrollably with terror.

Wormtongue drew her head back and narrowed her black eyes considering the teen. “Perhaps that will teach you to never again speak to me in such a tone.”

Wroth made no reply, and after a few moments more, the Dragon spoke more gently. “There are more ways to be powerful than great size and strength.”

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Though Wroth still cowered in the dirt, a look of hope slowly grew upon his gray face. “Can you teach me how to overthrow my father?” he asked in almost a whisper.

 “Oh, indeed I can!” The flying serpent let out a hissing laugh. “But can you be trusted? This could all be a ruse to betray me.”

The idea that she wished to trust him caused his terror to slowly transform into something more. It was becoming nearer to reverence, for if a boy is not taught to honor his father, he will inevitably find a more fearful thing to regard with respect.

Slowly looking up, Wroth assured her with an eager expression. “You can trust me.”

“You’ll understand if I can’t simply take you at your word. After all, your father also claimed he was trustworthy, and yet he failed at the very first task I gave him,” the she-Dragon reasoned.

“Just tell me what I can do to prove myself,” Wroth said while holding his hands out in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I would surely need some token of your loyalty; some sign that proves your devotion.” Wormtongue suggested with a shrug. “Only then will I truly know that you’re worthy, and if you are, I’ll be like your great-mother – Your Dragon-mother.”

This idea thrilled the young man beyond measure.

“What token can I offer or what task can I perform that will prove that I can be trusted?” Wroth asked with growing enthusiasm.

“Bring me a tender morsel; some tasty treat, and then I shall know that you’re my friend,” the serpent hissed.

“What kind of morsel?” the teen questioned. “What type of treat?”

Since she first spoke with Calamitous, Wormtongue had learned to deal more cunningly, and so she started off small with her requests. “Oh, any old thing will do … For now.” These last two words were spoken under the serpent’s breath.

Wroth rushed where his fear had caused him to drop his bag and returned. Falling upon his knees, he held up his offering.

“Fruit?!?” the flying serpent snarled with disgust. “What do I look like, a cow?!? Do I low for the produce of plants?!?” Smoke and flame escaped her scaled lips as she erupted into fierce anger.

With great trembling, Wroth quickly cast away the fruit and shoved his face to the ground again.

“Please, don’t be angry with me!” the teenager begged as he continued to grovel. “Other than plants, I know of no other kind of food. In fact, this is the best in my bag.”

“This is the best of what you have?!?” she marveled. “No wonder you’re lesser than your father!”

Again, her words pricked his heart, but his fear would not let his temper be loosed from its hiding place a second time.

“Please, help me be more than Calamitous,” he whispered in a breathless voice while holding back the waves of rage that welled up within his dark heart. “For I wish to kill my father and rule Fangland in his place.”

Wormtongue considered the young man for a moment and then purred menacingly. “Very well, I’ll show you how to be more than he, but you must bring me proper food.”

Wroth gazed up at the massive she-Dragon with sheer admiration. “Tell me what I can get that will please you.”

Again, she was careful not to rush to her true desire, but instead, she gave just enough details to keep any more plant-food from coming before her. After a few seconds of thought, she replied in a gentle hiss. “Bring me anything that has a heartbeat.”

The young man bowed and then rushed away. In less than an hour, he returned with a large black rat. He held the poor creature by his long hairless tail. The terrified rat twisted and scratched trying to get away but to no avail.

“Will this do?” Wroth offered timidly.

The she-Dragon tried to hide her disappointment. She found little in the rat to appease her large appetite, but she quickly decided that she would like to watch the boy kill. “Place your gift upon that flat stone and end his life before he escapes.”

Walking to the table-shaped boulder, Wroth held the rat down, took up a rock in his hand, and then hesitated. No matter how much of an unpleasant child he was or how cruel he had been to his siblings, he had never actually killed another creature. Uneasy, he glanced up at the flying serpent.

Her huge horned head hovered high above him upon her long serpentine neck. From her high vantage point, she eyed him with a skeptical expression.

Deep down, Wroth knew that he could not and would not let the Dragon see him as lesser than his father. Gritting his teeth, he brought the stone down with a crushing blow, and so the rat's life ended with a sickening squeak.

Stepping away quickly, he bowed before the great serpent.

Though she was unimpressed with his offering, Wormtongue was very pleased with Wroth's willingness to kill at her command.

“Since you’ve honored me with this sacrifice, I see that you are indeed worthy. Therefore, I will now be your Dragon-mother, and I will show you how to overthrow your father.” Wormtongue vowed in a growling purr.

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