Dharab’s Mistake

Stories for Another Day

In the early days before Dharab became known as the greatest dragon-slayer in all the seven kingdoms, when he was simply a young man learning his trade, there was a knock on the door of his hut one evening. He opened it to find a messenger from a village far away in the mountains, two days’ journey away.

“Can you help us?” the young messenger, Castor, pleaded. “For months we have been menaced by a dragon who eats our livestock and fouls the mountain stream from which we draw our water. Please, please come and rid us of this monster, if you can.”

“I will do what I can,” Dharab answered. He strapped his sword to his back and took his spear. He wrapped his cloak around himself and set off with Castor at once.

When they reached the village, tired and hungry after days of travel, the first thing Dharab saw was the dragon. Like a fat, black hillock it had ranged itself across the stream on the outskirts of the village, lying at its ease half in and half out of the water.

Dharab approached it warily, and said, “You are making the lives of these villagers miserable. Leave this place, and leave them in peace.”

The dragon raised a sleepy eyelid and gazed at Dharab. “Puny man, why are you disturbing my rest?” it said.

“These people have asked for my help,” Dharab said. With the courage that was ever his great strength, he said loudly, “You have oppressed them far too long. Begone!” and he lifted his spear.

The dragon coughed mildly. The plume of black smoke that came from its mouth sank into the stream and left a thick, dirty stain. “I am old,” it said, “and I do not see or hear as well as I once did. Come closer, puny one.”

Then Dharab made his first mistake. A dragon’s words may be true or they may not, but you should always ask yourself why it speaks them. Dharab came closer.

The dragon said, “Flying is not as easy as for me as it once was. I only wish to end my years peacefully, in a beautiful place such as this.” It carelessly stabbed a sheep with the pointed end of its tail, roasted it with a blast of fire from its mouth, and popped the sheep whole into its mouth.

Dharab tightened his grip on his spear. “Then find another place, far from here,” he said.

The dragon swept its tail angrily back and forth crushing two or three houses. Then it spoke. “You are young in years and in wisdom,” it said, and then it struck. In moments the dragon had caught Dharab up between its jaws and was flying away over the mountains. It was then that Dharab made his second mistake. He struggled with his spear, trying to attack the dragon. The dragon tossed its head as you would if a fly or a mosquito bothered you, and Dharab’s spear fell to the ground far below.

The villagers watched in horror. Castor shouted, “We must help him!”

The villagers backed away, saying, “What can we do against such a monster, if even the dragon-slayer is helpless? Anyway, the dragon is gone now.” They went back to their homes and their work.

Castor would not give up so easily. After all, it was he who had brought the dragon-slayer here. He picked up Dharab’s spear where it had fallen, and trudged up the mountain towards the place where the dragon had disappeared.

Fortunately for both Dharab and Castor, the dragon had told the truth when it said that it was old. It flew only a short distance, to one of its lairs on the mountainside. There it stopped to catch its breath before it devoured Dharab.

Castor, toiling up the hillside with Dharab’s spear, was not far behind them. The dragon had told the truth when it said that it couldn’t see well, but unfortunately its hearing was as sharp as ever. It heard Castor coming a mile off and as soon as he drew near, it struck out with its tail and swept Castor off his feet. It smiled lazily and turned on Dharab. However, it had forgotten that Dharab still had his sword strapped to his back.

While Castor was keeping the dragon’s attention, Dharab had drawn his sword. With the strength that in years to come became legendary, Dharab swung his sword and sliced off the dragon’s tail. Unbalanced, it toppled onto its back. Dharab rushed forward and drove his sword into its heart.

Castor got to his feet, still shaking with fear but his eyes shining with admiration. Dharab put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and said, “You did well. As it happens, I am looking for an apprentice to learn the trade of dragon-slaying.”

Castor shook his head. “That is not for me,” he said firmly. And in truth, Castor had a very different calling, but that is a story for another day. The two went down the mountainside to the village, side by side, and the feast that the villagers gave to celebrate their victory was so magnificent that it lasted longer than a day and a night.