A Dragonstone Short Story
By Mark Even
A long, long time ago, a young orphan boy was living from hand-out to hand-out. What he didn’t get from begging, he would steal if he could, just to stay alive. His name was Mathias PhefVenscen, but he was known to the villagers as Matty.
One evening as he was walking through the woods looking for berries to eat, he heard a loud ruckus up ahead of him. He crept cautiously through the trees until he saw a group of men gathered in a circle. They were making most of the noise, but between their yells, Matty could hear cries of pain as the men were punching and kicking something that they had surrounded. The cries, though they didn’t sound human, tore at Matty’s heart and soul and he burst through the woods with a large stick, shouting, “LEAVE IT ALONE!”
Before any of the men could react, Matty struck one of them on the shoulder with the stick, knocking him into the man on his left and creating a gap in the human barrier. Some sort of yellow-colored animal dashed through the opening so fast that Matty couldn’t even see what it was in the dimmed evening light.
Matty looked at the angry faces of the men and immediately ran in the same direction with the men chasing close behind. Being younger and quicker, Matty outpaced them and instinctively took a turn to his left and then another left turn before scampering up a tree to hide high among its branches.
Pressed against the tree trunk, his dirty clothing acted like camouflage and hid him from sight. He held his breath as a group of the men scurried below him, shouting how they will kill him when they catch him. He heard one of the men say, “I recognized that boy! It was that street-rat called Matty!” As the minutes passed, Matty relaxed as the sounds of the men faded the further away they went.
Suddenly, a soft, gravelly voice came from above, “Thank you for saving me, young one.”
Matty was so startled, he almost fell from his hiding place. He looked up, but with the now-darkened sky, he could only make out a light-colored silhouette near the top of the tree.
“Wha…who are you?” Matty asked sheepishly.
“You can call me Paction,” came the reply. “What name do you go by?”
Matty was somewhat afraid to tell him who he was, so after a short pause, he said, “You can call me Phef.”
The creature suddenly changed its position in the tree branches, then snorted and said, “They are coming back! With more men and torches! Quickly, climb down and run as far away from the village as you can. Then go on as far as you can after you rest. It won’t be safe for you to stay around here.”
Matty began his climb down and started to hear the shouting coming in his direction. He looked up and in a whisper-shout, asked, “But what about you?”
“I’ll lead them away in the other direction,” the creature replied, “Now, GO!”
Matty ran away from the voices of the mob. When he reached a trail that he knew led to a village on the other side of the valley, he stopped briefly to catch his breath. To his left, across an open field, he saw the flames of the torches and he instinctively fell to the ground to avoid being seen. At times, it appeared the flames shot up into the air, or was it the other way around? He wasn’t sure, but as soon as the flames faded into the distance away from him, he got up and ran through the darkness as far away as he could.
Matty roamed the countryside for years, picking up odd jobs in exchange for food. Afraid that the men would somehow recognize him, he continued to use the name ‘Phef’ when he met people. He quit stealing to get by, afraid that he might get caught and turned in. As he got older and grew to a height of over six feet tall and sported a full beard, he relaxed and no longer feared being identified as the ‘street-rat Matty’ and he settled in a village known as Talon.
Matty got hired as a sheep herder for a wealthy baron who lived just outside of Talon. He and two other men would tend the sheep at night, keeping watch for wolves and thieves. For protection, Matty carried a sturdy staff that he had carved from an oak branch he had found in the nearby forest. He also soaked the staff in tree sap and then dried and polished it, making it very hard, yet shiny.
One night, as he was watching over the flock while the other two shepherds were dozing, a brief burst of flame on the hill next to the sheep startled him. He shook the others awake and started running towards where the fire appeared and smelled the odor of burnt wool and meat. As he closed in on the top of the hill, he jumped to his knees and started to crawl over the crest to see what was happening. Just as he reached the top, the other two shepherds came running past him yelling and waving their staffs in order to frighten whatever lurked on the other side of the hill. A burst of flames shot over their heads and they immediately bolted back in the direction of the camp shrieking incoherently but clearly running for their lives.
Matty watched them down the hill and then started to get up to join them when he felt a hot gust of air just above his head. It felt like he had stuck his head into a furnace. He slowly turned his head to face whatever the threat was, preparing his arm to strike it with his staff until he actually saw it and stumbled back in terror.
The dragon stood over him and opened its jaws as if to eat him, but then shook its head and inched his face towards Matty and took a deep sniff.
“Phef?” it said with a deep, gravelly voice, “is that you?”
“Ye..ye..yes,” Matty replied weakly, “I’m Matty.”
“It’s me,” the dragon said with a softness that surprised Matty, “…Paction!”
“But…but…you’re a dragon!” said Matty as he slowly stood up.
“Of course, I’m a dragon, you dolt!” replied Paction. “What else would I be?”
The dragon laid down on the grass next to Matty, its head still towering over him. Matty sat down next to him, facing the golden dragon and they talked and reminisced about that fateful night years ago when Matty saved the young creature.
Finally, Paction stood and said, “You were very brave that night. Attacking those men to save a creature you didn’t even know. I owe you my life, young Phef, and I have a gift for you.”
“A gift?” Matty said, “what can a dragon give a man?”
“I sense great magic within you.” Paction replied. “You have the makings of a powerful wizard, but you have no way to tap your magic. I can provide you the way.” Then after a brief pause, Paction continued, “Do you have any gold or silver?”
Matty initially shook his head no, but then remembered and retrieved a gold coin from his pocket, “It’s all I have. I’ve been saving it to buy a gift for the baron’s daughter in hopes that she would fancy me.” Matty smiled slightly to himself and said, “Her name is Loganna.”
Paction instructed Matty to place the coin on the ground and to back away. Reluctantly, Matty did so and watched as Paction bent its head down closely to the coin and a golden flame shot from his mouth. The flame got brighter and brighter until Paction suddenly stopped. As Matty took a few steps and started to reach down, Paction softly said, “Wait! Wait for it to cool.”
Matty watched as the steam around where his coin had laid faded away and a brilliant white jewel was there in its place.
“That is a dragonstone,” said Paction. “Its magical properties will allow you to tap your inner magic and perform spells and charms.”
“But, I don’t know any spells or charms!” exclaimed Matty. “What good will this be?”
“Ah, but you do know them, you simply need to touch the dragonstone,” Paction explained.
Matty reached down and picked up the stone with his right hand. Immediately, the stone glowed with a brilliant white light that grew so intense, it changed Matty’s hair, and beard, and even the clothes he wore to a pure white color.
And at that very moment, Matty became Phef the Wizard!