Bellyaching

By S. E. M. Ishida

Sir Gregory stepped out from behind the overturned table, dusted the ash off his boots, and exhaled in relief. Not even a scuff on the shiny leather. He ran fingers over his cape made from a manticore’s pelt. That, too, was as luxurious as ever. He stared through the broken wall at the departing dragon. Too bad about Stanley, though. The young squire had begun a brave monologue, but the monster had gulped him down just as he’d started an exposition about justice and virtue.

Oh well. Some things couldn’t be helped. Gregory strode to the mirror to check his golden armor for scratches.

Princess Penelope ran into the hall, tears streaming from her eyes. “Snowflake is gone!”

Gregory did his best to appear concerned. That blasted cat. Penelope fawned over her for hours—hours she could have spent admiring Gregory’s glossy blond hair and bulging biceps.

“I’m sure your beloved pet is hiding somewhere safe, your highness. Snowflake is a skittish creature, and—”

“The dragon has her.” The princess sniffled.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw him gobble her up!”

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, Your Highness.” Gregory rested a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ll rescue her, won’t you?”

“It’s too late for that, I’m afraid. The dragon—”

The princess pushed him away. “I saw the dragon swallow her whole. She yowled all the way down. If you hurry, she might still be alive.”

As members of the royal court came out of hiding, all eyes turned to the indignant princess. Gregory noticed the king’s glare and sighed. As much as he hated getting dirty, tarnishing his reputation was worse.

He bowed dramatically. “I will go, Your Highness, and rescue Snowflake from the belly of the beast.”

Penelope’s pout turned into a smile. “Oh, good!” She clapped her hands. “I’ll cast a spell on you to keep you from getting burned, and I’ll give you my magic lantern that never goes out.”

Gregory mounted his white horse and set off amidst cheers and shouts. After parading out of the castle grounds and through the town, the knight found the dragon sleeping in the forest beside a running stream. He dismounted, drew his sword, and placed the blade against the dragon’s distended belly. Something squirmed under the green scales. He hesitated.

A growl resonated behind him.

Gregory whirled around and stared into the dragon’s open jaws. A forked tongue flicked against his polished armor. He dropped his sword as the dragon wolfed down its latest meal.

Gregory slid through the monster’s throat, saliva and mucus matting his cape and coating his armor. He landed in the dragon’s stomach. His fashionable footwear squelched in the partially digested mush. With his first step, he lost a boot and watched in dismay as it mixed with the malodorous stomach contents.

Gastric juices rained down from above. His cape sizzled where the droplets touched it, and steam began wafting from his golden plate. He almost wished he didn’t have the magic lantern so he wouldn’t have to see his outfit being ruined.

“Sir Gregory, I knew you’d come to save me!” His squire popped out from behind a rotting wooden chest and grinned at him.

“Oh, um, yes, of course.” Gregory laughed nervously. “By the way, Princess Penelope is distraught over her cat. Have you seen Snowflake in here?”

“I think I saw a cat when I first arrived, but come to think of it, I haven’t seen her in a while.” Stanley looked around the confines of the dragon’s gut. “Maybe she went farther down?”

“Oh no.” That would be such a mess.

They squeezed into the dragon’s bowels, and the stench worsened. The princess’s spell seemed to be protecting Gregory from the digestive acids, but no amount of washing would take this stink out of his clothes. Meanwhile, glop sloughed effortlessly off of Stanley’s enchanted salamander jerkin. The garish orange garment had come from a markdown magic market, but seemed to be protecting him just as well.

“There she is.” Stanley pointed at the pitiful, shivering animal curled up beside a rusted goblet. Snowflake didn’t look particularly snowy anymore. “Bilious” might have been a better description.

“Here, kitty.” Gregory reached out, but Snowflake hissed and ran. “Catch that cat!”

Knight and squire chased the cat around the dragon’s twisting innards. Eventually, they herded her back up into the beast’s stomach. The cat jumped from a partially submerged skull to a rib cage barely rising above the goop, then launched herself at a scrap of fabric. Gregory lost his second boot as he sprang for her—and missed.

Bubbles rose from the gastric slurry. The stomach walls began to writhe. Gurgles drowned out the cat’s meowing. The dragon’s belly convulsed, and Gregory fell forward. He reached out and snatched Snowflake. Stanley stumbled in the muck but managed to grab the knight’s ankles.

Then, they flew. The trio hurtled from the stomach and up through the throat. Stanley screamed. Snowflake’s claws dug deep into Gregory’s leather gloves. Did she really have to scratch those up? Gregory’s cape caught on the fangs at the back of the dragon’s jaws. He used his free hand to tear away the constricting pelt and tossed it behind them. The cape vanished down the dragon’s gullet.

The dragon spewed them onto the grass. It made a noise somewhere between a groan and a roar and flew away, belly sloshing.

Gregory lay on his back and breathed. He had no boots, no cape, and his armor would never shine the same way again. He didn’t even want to think about his hair. But Snowflake purred in the warm sun, and Stanley splashed in the stream beside them. A smile crept across his face.

Something glinted in the grass. Gregory picked it up—a dragon scale. He’d heard that they were in vogue in the big city. Perhaps he could get it sewn into a new set of clothes. And, oh, what a story he could tell.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S. E. M. Ishida  is a technical communicator and the author of the middle grade Nick Newton titles and the picture book Birds of the Air. Her published fiction debuted with a short story in a magazine, and her interest in short fiction persists. She has enjoyed dragon stories since childhood and has grown up appreciating stories in various forms, whether books, films, or games.

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