“Oh, bra-vo,” said the dragon, appearing genuinely delighted. “You didn’t even use any real magic.” She shook her head in admiration.
“How do you know that?” asked Rummy, curious.
“All dragons can detect magic—you read as completely devoid of magic, save for your pack. Conversely, that gopher creature over there is like a tiny sun.”
“Gopher? Gopher!” yelled Whiska. “I’ll show you a gopher, you jumped-up lizard-loving—”
“And that one,” cut in the dragon, ignoring Whiska’s tirade. She pointed toward Borg. “Do you have something behind your back?”
“I was just…going to mention…this,” replied Borg. He reached up underneath his loin cloth for an awkwardly long period of time, during which time he issued a series of boisterous grunts. It was uncomfortable for everyone, the dragon included. Finally, Borg held up a small horn, about the size of a cucumber. “I think this…will help.”
Nadi stepped closer and then drew back, coughing. Whiska pushed her out of the way and moved in, but was similarly overcome by a coughing fit. “Gods, man! Did you keep that thing in your rectum?”
“Yes,” replied Borg. We waited for further details, but none were forthcoming.
“Not going to explain that one, big guy?” asked Rummy.
“It is…a convenient…storage place. For…rock giants.”
The dragon wiggled its fingers and a jet of cleansing water shot forth, splashing the horn and dampening the smell.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully.
“I didn’t do that for you,” replied the dragon.
“Still thankful,” I said.
“What is it?” asked the dragon curiously.
“A magical…horn of…plenty,” replied Borg. “Three times per…day, it can…create vegetables.” He paused. “A lot…of vegetables.”
“Does it do anything else?” asked Whiska.
Borg shook his head. “Not that…I know of.”
“That’s a pretty useless magical item,” scoffed Whiska.
“…until now,” I amended. Whiska shrugged. I think she still thought she could destroy the dragon if it came down to it. She is an idiot.
“I could…give it to…you,” said Borg, holding it out to the dragon.
The dragon looked suspicious. “How does it work? Don’t try anything funny.” She got down on all of her legs and showed Borg her teeth. “I may not want to eat you, but I don’t have any qualms about biting you in half and spitting you out. Though it takes a long time to get the taste of humanoid out of your mouth.” She shuddered.
“Like this,” said Borg. “Veggie, veggie…take a bite…make a lot…of veggies…all right?” He pointed the horn toward the ground just in front of the dragon.
A moment later, the thing erupted. Squash, carrots, kale, spinach, beets, radishes, and potatoes came flying out, along with about a dozen other varieties of vegetables I couldn’t name. They piled up at the dragon’s feet and, after a moment had passed, we could have completely concealed even Borg beneath them.
Melvin gasped. She cautiously sniffed the vegetables and then gasped again. “They smell…fresh! They smell…they smell…mmmmm.” She let out a low moan as she gently wrapped her lips around a head of kale and chewed it slowly and softly, moaning again as she swallowed.
Dragons, it seems, eat vegetables in the most awkwardly sensual manner possible.
“Those…are…amazing,” the dragon said after taking her time to work her way through at least one of each kind of vegetable. “The best I’ve ever had. Without question.”
“I’m glad they…are delicious,” said Borg. “I don’t…like vegetables. So…I just use…it as a…rectum spacer.”
I later learned that rock giants have issues defecating if their sphincters get too tight, so they…you know what? It’s way too gross. There’s no reason you care or need to know about that. Let’s just summarize what happened next by saying we all stood around staring awkwardly at each other (but pointedly not looking at Borg), bleached our eyeballs and our noses, and tried to move on by burying feelings that would resurface years later and require multiple sessions with skilled witch doctors to resolve.
“What’s to stop me from killing you now that I have this?” Melvin gestured to the horn, which she held awkwardly in her hand/paw/claw, where it looked like a tiny, tiny seashell.
“That,” I said, “is a very good question.”
“Perhaps you’d care to answer it more quickly than other questions I’ve posed previously,” said the dragon, with the faintest tone of menace in her voice for the first time.
Our collective gulp was, I’m sure, audible to any creatures wandering the mountain tunnels.
“If you kill us, adventurers will keep coming.” Nadi looked the dragon in the eye, her shoulders back, head held high. She looked fearless—every inch the true hero. “If we don’t return to Skendrick, they’ll know you’re still here. They will send others, and others after those—as many as it takes to slay you. Even if you kill them all, you’ll never know peace. Your sleep will be constantly interrupted.” She cast her eyes around the room. “Your treasure will be in constant danger.”
Melvin growled. “It won’t happen that way.”
“Won’t it?” asked Nadi. “How can you be sure? Wouldn’t you prefer to avoid that possibility altogether?”
“How?” asked the dragon, her tone curious.
“We tell everyone in Skendrick that you’re dead.”
Rummy, sensing the import of the moment, gasped to punctuate the statement, then smiled and looked around, pleased with his performance.
Nadi rolled her eyes at him before turning back to the dragon. “Think about it—if they think you’re dead, no more adventurers. No more efforts to kill you. You can sit here with your magical horn and eat vegetables to your heart’s content. It sounds like that’s what you really want.”
“Well, that, and treasure,” responded the dragon.
“Right. The treasure. Well, no one will come looking for it if they think you’re dead,” said Nadi.
“Or everyone will,” said Rummy quietly, almost sheepishly.
The dragon’s massive head swiveled toward the smallest being in the room, who shrank down another size or two under that withering glare. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just…well, if I thought you were dead, and I had a rough idea of where your lair was, I’d be hunting day and night for it, knowing that there was a literal dragon’s horde sitting unguarded.”
Nadi frowned. “He’s right. If we tell them you’re dead, there won’t necessarily be adventurers knocking down your door—though there may be those, too—but the treasure seekers will be endless.” She turned to Rummy and nodded. “Sharp thinking, Rummy—thanks for calling that out.” Nadi’s equanimity in dealing with someone pointing out a flaw in her desperate plan to save us from certain death at the hands (and teeth) of a dragon impressed me. So did my ability to use the word “equanimity” as though I do it all the time.