By R. C. Capasso
“Every last bit.”
The words bored into Misha’s head. The captain repeated it at every scene. “Get every last little bit.”
He swept to the thudding rhythm, a brush stroke for each word. Every scale, every sliver of bone, every eyelash of that snake or dragon or bird—whatever it was. Every hint of color that might be a drop of blood lying in the grit of the stone floor, or among the tattered leaves blown from the cave mouth. Every tiny bit of the creature must be gathered and thrown into the flames.
Misha grasped a heavy, sodden bag in each hand and slogged toward the entrance where some other poor clods would trudge to the fire, already crackling, already sending out its stinking smoke.
They said that one tiny drop of the creature, a smear against his hand, could regenerate. Be reborn. If he overlooked even one cell of flesh, a monster could reform, sleek hide stretching over massive bones and taut muscles.
He had cleaned up six sites now, the smell of thick purple blood stuck in his nostrils forever. This would be the last. Extinguish this one, and no dragon would ever walk the earth again. Every single one had been hunted, their treasures gathered.
Last night, as Misha curled his knees up under his blanket, he heard the captain. “It’s almost a shame. No more treasure after this.”
“Haven’t we lost enough men fighting these things?” The other voice growled low.
“Have you seen the gold?”
“Have you gotten to keep any of it?”
There was no more talk, and Misha sank into a ragged sleep.
Now, after the battle, he worked by torchlight in the last corner of the cave, sifting the dirt for bits of a corpse. How did the captain feel today, while his wounded men limped away to reveal no treasure? No treasure, no established nest. A small creature, maybe on the run, just sheltering in a low-ceilinged slash in the rocks like a carved tomb.
This one had barely fought. The full grown, and the ones with young, took many lives in exchange for their own. But this one …
Misha carefully moved from the back wall of the cave until he, a short man, could stand in the center, hair just brushing the cold rock above him. One last look and he could leave.
Someone moved at the mouth of the cave, and a ray of dawning light skimmed along the irregular surface, making the small rocks send shadows like hills in a desolate land across the cave floor. But there—a few inches from his foot—a gleam caught his eye. A flash of yellow.
A jewel? Was it possible that the monster had truly buried wealth? Even just one stone? And if no one else saw it but him…
The others stood by the cave mouth, backs to him, ready to be done with the awful scene. A cleaner shifted, blocking the light, but Misha’s hand already knew the way. He reached down and closed his fingers over something cool and smooth. He turned, holding the thing in his cupped hand, tilting it toward the nearest torch jammed into a crack in the wall.
Not jewel. Not gold. Just another bit of the creature. A tiny scale, smooth and faintly yellow, probably from its belly. Supple, almost soft like worked leather. Young, the scale seemed to say. Quite young.
He’d tied the last bag, but it would be no matter to untie it and cram in this last bit of waste. Or he could walk to the fire and toss it in, saying good riddance as they all did.
Or…
Two steps away lay a frayed leaf. In one movement Misha picked it up, moved toward the cave wall and laid the leaf down. Standing, he yanked the torch out of the crack.
“Finished.”
The men at the cave mouth didn’t even look back at him. Stones clattered as they hurried down the path, leaving the last of those foul caves.
Misha wiped his hands down his filthy tunic, which he must also remember to burn. One scale. How could it live? And if it did, years would pass before it could grow into anything. It would always be the last of its kind. Would it ever have treasure anyone would want?
No matter. The captain and the men who stood above him had more than they deserved. The world didn’t owe them the last precious drop of any life.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“Someone moved at the mouth of the cave, and a ray of dawning light skimmed along the irregular surface, making the small rocks send shadows like hills in a desolate land across the cave floor.”
Such lovely imagery. Nicely done!
Thank you for reading and for your comment!
I enjoyed this a lot. Best story yet in the new Havok launch.
Thank you for the kind words!
Dragons. I love dragons. A story with a lot of internal conflict and decisions to be made. Good job.
Thank you so much! Clearly, I like dragons too.
I really liked your descriptions — very evocative and easy to imagine the scene. And also very cool idea to introduce regeneration as a possibility if the body isn’t properly taken care of.
Thank you! Glad you enjoyed the story.
I like the concept and the story. The only hiccup was the first use of ‘scene’ I thought they were in a theatre at first.
LOVED this – it was so creative!
Thank you! I appreciate your comment.
Oh wow! This was beautiful and tragic and epic! I loved it!