Wyrm

There was an unusual lull at sea today, and Prince Dylan leaned his elbow against the Triton’s railing, lazily watching the dead-calm sea below. The afternoon sun shone unobscured on the sea, which caused the water to take on the glittering appearance of a solid sheet of uncut glass. They were caught in the doldrums, unfortunately, and the young prince knew the ship was not going to move anytime soon -- until the winds picked up again. Dylan sighed listlessly; when he first decided to join the Royal Navy for one tour, earlier this past spring, he never dreamed life at sea could prove so monotonous at times.

Poor Dylan, caught completely unawares, was startled from his thoughts when he heard a sharp cry:

“Attention!”

Immediately, Dylan turned round and saluted, only to see the pin-straight frame of Captain Samuel Bennett appear on deck, his arms tucked neatly behind his back, his uniform crisp and pristine. Now, Sam was a close personal friend of his mother, the Queen -- Sam was practically family, essentially a second father to Dylan -- but at sea... the captain was business as usual, and a well known sundowner to boot.

Dylan gulped, as Sam’s piercing blue eyes seemed to zero in on him. His fears were confirmed, when Sam slowly began stalking directly toward the young prince. As the captain finally reached Dylan, he stretched out his hand and brushed some specks of dirt off the boy’s uniform shoulder -- his expression conveyed an unmistakably profound disappointment.

“You look bored, Ensign. Can’t seem to find something productive to do instead of skylarking?”

“Oh, Sam --”

“It’s Captain here aboard the Triton.”

“Aye, sir.”

“What’s your assignment today?”

“Splicing rope, sir.”

The captain nodded, “Then haul your ass down to the Bo’sn’s locker, you bilge rat. Make yourself useful, and remember, you aren’t a prince here, Ensign. You wouldn’t rather be scrubbing the poop deck, or scraping barnacles, would you?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Then, go.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Jesus Christ, thought Dylan. Sam’s demeanor at sea was markedly different than his behavior back at home. The cocky, fun-loving, trouble-making prankster he had grown to love over the first sixteen years of his life had completely disappeared, and instead, standing before him, was this stoic, humorless disciplinarian. The prince resolved that it would be decidedly imprudent to press his luck any further, so he’d better hurry below deck right away. However, before he could comply with his captain’s strict order, Dylan was distracted by a another loud call -- this time from high above in the Crow’s Nest:

“Ahoy! There’s something in the water!”

Suddenly, the entire ship rocked with savage violence, leaning heavily toward the port side. Dylan craned his neck over the railing just in time to catch a glimpse of a massive shadow glide underneath them. The Triton shook again, this time teetering perilously starboard.

“Sea monster!” Someone hollered, and chaos descended upon the vessel.

Just a paltry few yards ahead of the bowsprit, a formidable water dragon reared its ugly head, rising from the sea.

“Holy shit!”

The beast was easily fifty feet in length, and its colossal mouth was opened wide, displaying an array of razor sharp, dagger shaped teeth. Two horns rested menacingly atop its head, which was set off by a large frill protruding from its thick neck. Armor-like scales in iridescent hues of various blues, greens, and purples covered its whole body. The dragon roared and hissed as it circled their ship. Where had his monster come from so suddenly, and how were they supposed to escape from this unexpected threat?

The crew stood in stunned silence for just a moment, before the beast helped itself to a generous piece of the bowsprit, spitting out jagged shards of splintered wood. After that, all hell broke loose, and the sailors began running amok and screaming wildly.

“All hands on deck! To your battle stations, men!” the captain cried over the confused din of the panicked sailors, and most of the crewmen sprang into action.

Temporarily immobilized from shock, Dylan remained with his feet firmly rooted to the deck, but Sam roughly seized him by the arm, and dragged the prince over to help man the waiting swing guns.

The dragon submerged again, and Dylan, perhaps naively, thought that the beast possibly decided the Triton and her crew weren’t worth the trouble, and swam off. However, the dragon soon resurfaced, practically directly in front of Dylan’s face. The sea monster stared at him with enormous, feral, red eyes; its pupils were two large black slits. It blinked, and the prince realized it possessed two sets of eyelids -- one being a sort of transparent film that protected its hellish eyes. The beast never seemed to shift its imposing gaze away from Dylan, and gradually, the young prince was overcome by a sudden realization.

“Wyrm?” Dylan whispered in disbelief, tentatively reaching out his hand.

“What the hell, Dylan?” shrieked Sam.

That’s when the first cannon was fired. The heavy cannonball missed its mark, however, and sailed clear over the dragon’s head, landing with a loud splash some ways beyond the monster. The beast, apparently, did not take kindly to this, and roared mightily -- before charging at the Triton. The crew immediately defended her, firing a volley of cannons at the dragon. In response, the creature quickly submerged once more, and disappeared somewhere beneath the ship.

“Stay alert, men.”

Dylan looked over his shoulder, and forgetting the respectful address of ‘captain’, he began, “Sam --”

The dragon soon launched out of the water, its long, tapering, ribbony body twisting acrobatically in the air. It landed with a great splash, drenching the crew with cold salt water, as they stood tensely on deck. The creature was swimming broadside of the Triton now, and Dylan was certain that Captain Bennett was fully prepared to defend his ship.

“Fire!” Sam ordered.

“No, wait --”

Yet another volley was launched against the monster, but seemingly undeterred, it continued circling the ship for some time, until it finally reared almost its full length directly afore the bow.

“Ready, men? Fi --”

“Hold fire!” Dylan shouted over the captain’s command.

“What?” Sam questioned angrily, his eyes narrowing.

“Please, Sam -- I mean, Captain -- trust me.”

“All right,” the captain groaned in concession. “Hold your fire!”

Slowly, Dylan advanced to the front of the ship, attempting to approach his old friend, Wyrm, as gently as possible. Sam, of course, was right behind him when the prince carefully stepped on the prow with the intention of getting as close to the dragon as personal safety and common sense would permit.

“Hey, buddy, it’s me -- Dylan.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Quiet, Sam. Use soft, gentle, calming tones, please,” Dylan warned, never taking his eyes off Wyrm for even a minute. It had been over two years since the last time he had seen Wyrm -- the dragon was likely unpredictable -- and the prince wasn’t taking any chances.

“Come on, boy, you remember me.”

Dylan slowly, and deliberately held out his arm toward the beast. It snorted a puff of hot steam at him, and viciously snapped its serrated teeth. The prince hastily drew back his hand, and thoroughly inspected his fingers -- thankfully, all of his digits remained perfectly intact.

“Dylan, have you lost your mind?” the captain erupted, raising his voice.

“Please, we’re using soft, gentle tones... remember? I’m trying to soothe a savage beast, here.”

“Unbelievable. You're risking your life!”

"Aw, don't worry, he won't hurt me... probably... maybe... hopefully..."

"This feels ill-advised."

"I know what I'm doing."

"If the Queen catches wind of this, she will positively skewer me."

"Wyrm," demanded Dylan, "Look at me, Wyrm."

"You seem personally acquainted with this beast."

“Come on, Wyrm,” the prince tutted at the monster, “remember that chat we had, previously, about not harassing any passing ships?”

Wyrm only snorted an even larger puff of hot steam from its nostrils; so far, their fraught situation did not appear promising.

“Does that thing breathe fire?”

“What a ridiculous question! Of course water dragons don’t breathe fire.”

“Thank Fortuna!”

“Wyrm expels scalding hot jets of water from two tube-like structures lining either side of his throat.”

“How comforting. Why can’t I blast this monster into oblivion?”

“He’s not a monster... he’s Wyrm... and we sort of raised him.”

“We? Who’s we?”

“Me and Cordelia, and --”

“My daughter! You dragged Abri into this?”

“Sam, lower your voice.”

“It’s Captain, and don’t order me --”

Unexpectedly, Wyrm spat out two long jets of that scalding water the prince had just warned Captain Bennett about, and the super-heated water unceremoniously seared a gaping hole straight through the middle of the foresail.

“No! Bad! Bad dragon!” Dylan chastised, clicking his tongue. "Do you see, Sam? I am doing my damnedest to diffuse this unfavorable situation, and now you've gone and set him off!"

"I beg your pardon?"

Then the prince snapped his fingers loudly at Wyrm, as if he could command the dragon’s undivided attention. “Down, boy, down.”

“When did you kids find the time to raise a sea dragon?”

“We found Wyrm half dead on the beach near the palace. We were about twelve at the time -- well, okay, Abri was elevenish... but you get the idea. Wyrm was only a little thing then -- he could fit in the palm of my hand -- initially, we thought he was just an ordinary lizard. We fed him worms we dug up from the palace gardens... that’s how he got his name.”

“Where did you keep it?”

“At first he lived quite happily in a glass tank in Abri’s room, you know, along with her collection of all the other creepy crawlers she holds so dear.”

“Are you seriously telling me that a dragon lived under your mother’s roof, and none of us knew? None of us knew absolutely anything about it? Not me. Not the Queen. Not your landlubber father --”

Dylan shrugged, “In our childish innocence, we truly believed he was an injured lizard, though we kind of figured out he was a dragon when we realized how rapidly he grew. Eventually, we moved him into one of the caves cut into the cliffs along the beach, but in our defense, he was a whole lot smaller the last time we saw Wyrm -- when we released him into the sea, about two years ago. Say, remember Rex?”

“Your Old English Sheepdog, yes.”

“Wyrm ate him.”

“We all assumed the dog simply ran away.”

“Nope. I found Rex’s collar in the cave Wyrm lived in. I found some fur and blood, too. It was a grim scene to stumble upon, for sure. Never told the girls about it, though. Didn’t want to upset them.”

Just then, Wyrm rose even higher into the air, and plucked poor unsuspecting Stanley from his post in the Crow’s Nest. Stanley dangled helplessly by one leg, screaming for his life, as Wyrm mercilessly shook the unfortunate sailor from side to side.

“No!” Dylan roared and stomped his foot as loudly as he could. “Put him back. Deep sea fishing only, Wyrm. Large squids and porpoises... and other creatures like that. No people. No ships. Got it?”

Wyrm snorted another puff of hot steam, but the beast relented and dropped the clearly shaken sailor back in the Crow’s Nest. Stanley, surely wishing to place as much distance between him and the dragon as possible, desperately scrambled down the shrouds, and quickly retreated to the stern of the ship.

“It’s time to go now, Wyrm. Dive deep. And remember... stay away from ships from now on.”

Wyrm blinked its large red eyes at the prince, but finally plunged back into the sea. The dragon’s powerful, rudder shaped tail was the last to vanish into the depths.

“You have some explaining to do, Ensign.”

Dylan simply turned, grimaced, and asked, ”Are you going to record all this in the Captain’s Log?”

“And let your mother know I allowed you to have a dangerous standoff with a sea monster? Hell no!”

“How are you going to write off the damage to the bowsprit and foresail?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Dylan opened his mouth to reply, but yet another cry from the crew suddenly cut through the still, salty air:

“Ahoy! Pirates! Two points abaft the beam, starboard side!”

“Mother of --” cursed Captain Bennett. “Today is not my day. Back to the battle stations, men! Look alive! Be ready for a fight! Goddamn pirates...”

“At least you can blame the damage to the Triton on the pirates, now.”

“Good thinking, Ensign.”