Young Writers Society

Louis followed the woman through a sagging door into a parlour. The lighting was dim, nothing more than a few flickering lanterns set on the bar and candles set on a few tables. There were people drinking, lounging on scruffy couches. There had been a discontented mumble of conversation until he stepped into the room. It made his hair stand on end to be in such a shadowy place so filled with the presence of people. He could feel them, and was sure there were others he could not see lurking in the deep shadows of the place.

It smelled of alcohol and dirty sweaty bodies. He reached for his handkerchief but refrained, lest he offend his hostess.

A door behind the bar swung open and a sweaty young man in a dirty white uniform peeked out to spy on the new visitor. He seemed to Louis to be a cook, and was followed by the rich scent of roasting chicken and warm broth. Louis’s stomach made a peculiar gurgle loud enough for the entire room to hear. Silence, then laughter. Laughter from every corner, and laughter of every kind. Louis felt hot with shame, but couldn’t keep himself from laughing along with them. The woman took his cuff in her hand and pulled him to the bar, seating him on the only stool that wasn’t about to fall apart.

“Marco, make this poor skinny soul a bowl of soup before he starves on me!” she said.

The boy disappeared into the kitchen. Louis’s mind began to conjure all sorts of imagination. What sort of pranks might a young slums boy pull on a gentleman at his mercy. The kid was gone long enough for the doctor to have imagined plenty of ghastly scenarios.

When the boy finally emerged, he was flushed, and even more sweaty. He placed the bowl of soup before him and waited, looking very proud of himself.

Louis, despite all of his manners, halted a moment to regard the soup. It looked fine enough, and smelled wonderful. Indeed he felt that his stomach might eat itself in anticipation, but Louis had the disadvantage of being a doctor and knowing just what sort of vile diseases may have been lurking in the humble broth.

He regarded his cook, and was surprised to see that he was much less dirty than at first, despite being more sweaty. He had changed his uniform for a slightly cleaner one, and it almost looked as though his nails were freshly trimmed. His face, which had seemed so proud a moment ago seemed crestfallen now.

Louis was ashamed of himself.

Such a thoughtful boy. He felt a tear in his eye from genuine gratitude. He hurriedly tucked into his soup, which was just as amazing as it smelled.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, and the boy’s face brightened again.

“Would you like a rum? Or, er, maybe a wine then?” the boy seemed very anxious to make him happy.

“No, no. That’ll be fine. Thank you.” He had almost said he didn’t drink, but again had refrained himself, lest he offend the many drinkers behind and around him.

There was a cheerful, if not slightly drunk, hum of conversation now. Very different from the discontent mumble he remember from earlier. He could tell most of them were talking about him but had trouble distinguishing the words. Then he remembered why he was there, his brother.

He cast about, but didn’t see him anywhere. Not surprising with how dark it was, but then, if his brother was there why hadn’t he joined him?

He looked for his hostess and saw her come down from a stairway he had missed when he first came in.

She seemed to read his mind, “Your brother is upstairs in his room. He seemed happy to hear you’d come, but I doubt you’ll be getting any intelligent conversation from him.”

He followed her up the stairs, a nervous lump knotting his stomach. The stairs led into a very dark hall that smelled of rats, stale straw, and spilled beer. The floor squeaked and shifted beneath his feet, he stumbled and it was all he could do to keep from crying out.

“Mind the floor,” his hostess said graciously.

He wondered what his brother was doing in a rat infested place like this. What could have possibly happened in the year since he last saw him?

A door was opened and a shadowy figure looked out, silhouetted by candlelight.

“Where’s that lousy dragon of your’s?” the silhouette asked.

It was the first time in a year that Louis had heard his brother’s voice, and he didn’t like the sound of it. Tired, weak, and reeking of liquor.

“Why? What’s happened,” Louis pushed his way into his brother’s room.

It stank, to put it kindly. His brother was wearing only under clothes. It was hard to see but he could already tell he had lost weight.

“Agh, you smell of infection,” Louis said with a sniff, and turned his brother towards the light so that he could see him better.

The doctor, who had seen and treated many terrible injuries in his day, nearly fainted at the sight. Sam’s entire middle was an oozing, festering wound. Their hostess cried out with alarm when she saw, and retreated down the hall.  

“What have you done to yourself?” he asked, his voice rich with emotion.

Sam sneered, “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”

“I can see THAT! I know a wound when I see one. I asked what happened?”

“I got attacked by some thugs, what’s it matter?”

“It matters a lot! What sort of weapon did they use?”

“Phsssh,” he tried to lean jauntily against the wall, but instead passed out.

Louis caught him, and lowered him to the scrap of straw that was his brother's bed. Filthy, everything was filthy. His face flushed hot. Just how difficult was it to clean a place now and then?

He had to get his brother out of here or he would never heal properly, if he lived at all.

“I’m taking you home,” he said with finality.

“No,” Sam grabbed at his arm, “Anywhere but home. ...where’s  that lousy dragon of yours anyway?”

“Geofrey is waiting outside of the city.”

“Should have brought the lousy dragon,” Sam’s last word trailed off weakly.

Louis sighed and knelt. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he muttered, more to himself than anything.

He took the lamp down from its place and set it down near his brother to get a better look. It was putrid, about as putrid as a wound on a living man could be, and in the worst of places. At least you could amputate a leg or an arm. He pulled the hair from his brothers face. It had grown long and he looked years older, but then, sickness could do that to a man. At least he still kept his face shaved.

The last man Louis had treated in this condition had died. Not because the wound had been a terrible one, but merely because the man had waited too long to get help. He hated the thought of losing his brother to something that might have been treated easily. If only he had called sooner.

“You daft fool,” he muttered to himself again, then added, ”I should have brought the lousy dragon.”

He wondered if Geoffrey could hear him call from all the way across the city?

“You named me Geoffrey, not lousy.”

Louis near about leapt from his skin, even Sam woke with a start and stared hard at Geoffrey, who was peeking through the gaps in the half shuttered window. He clawed away the shutters and tried to step inside but the floor moaned loudly beneath his foot.

“Lousy dragon’s gonna bring the building down on us,” Sam sputtered. .

Geoffrey stepped back outside and lowered himself from the second floor to the street where he sat looking very much like a kicked dog, if a dog where large, blue, and 10 feet tall.

“Geoffrey, what are you doing here? I told you to wait for me.”

“Waiting is boring, then it got dark, I worried about you. Besides, you need me.”

This was all very true.

“Wait for me down there, do not move, and don’t attract any attention!” There was already a sizable crowd.

Back inside the building Louis knelt beside his brother, “Can you walk at all?”

“Of course I can,” Sam said, but then continued to lay prone.

“Well then get UP!”

“You try being drunk and sick and you get up! Give me a minute.” With some help from Louis he did sit up, and did eventually stand. Together they limped from the room, but the stairs were too narrow for two.

“Here, I’ll go first, you lean on my back,” Louis offered his back, and Sam leaned against it.

Louis couldn’t help but notice the sharp angles of Sam’s light and boney frame. He felt as though he was supporting a old man, not a young soldier. They made it to the bottom easily. The parlour was empty. Every living soul must have gone out to see the dragon.

He carried his brother through the door, and stopped to size up the crowd and what their intent was. Geoffrey walked over to his friend. The crowd parted for him.

He eyed Sam anxiously,

“How is he?” the dragon asked.

“Only time will tell.” Louis replied. He handed his brother to Geoff, who cradled him in his arms with a gentleness that might surprise someone who had never known a dragon.

“He is light!” the dragon gasped, “and his infection is terrible. How could this happen?”

“That is what I’m going to figure out.” Louis said as he climbed onto his dragon’s back, “Skyward Geoff. We’re going to the cabin, the foolish man doesn’t want to go home yet.”

Geoff looked at the crowd. They stood about, hemming him in like a troop of stray cats around a trash can. They were only curious. He imagined they didn’t get to see much beyond the grey cobble streets, rickety buildings, and coal fire smoke. He wanted badly to do something that would delight them, but he had to think of Sam, and besides, there was a hunger in their eyes that put him on edge. A certain intensity beneath their honest curiosity.

He felt a pinch at his tail and flinched, the was a thud and the cry of a small child. He looked back to see a little human knocked back along the ground, clutching one of his scales in his sticky hands.

Why the NERVE!

But the child was the least of his concern. He felt it almost immediately, the shift in the crowd’s demeanor. The dragon had hurt a child, but more importantly, the dragon had scales, scales that could be removed.

“Umm, Louis?” he gulped staring at the eyes of the people. Louis didn’t answer, obviously lost in thought.

Sam moaned, “Run you lousy dragon,”

“Run? Where? How?”

He could not move more than a few feet without stepping on someone. The crowd pressed.

“GET BACK!” he roared, and they scattered, but greed was a powerful tether.

“Geoffrey!” Louis reproached, then, finally, he understood what was happening.

“Run! They aren’t fool enough to let you step on them!”

He skipped forward, hesitated then turned and ran down a likely street, going as quickly as he could on only two legs. The crowd gave way but surged behind him like the tide.

“Bunch of Jackles!” he growled. He tested his wings, there was barely enough room to spread them, and far too much clutter for him to properly  flap them. He jumped, trying to gain air, faltered, jumped, and flailed, spilling rubbish bins and knocking aside a rusting wagon.

 He looked behind him, noting that the crowd had fallen behind, and took a sharp turn down a dark and narrow street, hoping to shake them. Instead, he found himself trapped in a dead end alleyway. 

The crowd caught up with him, and gathered into one large hungry shadow at the alley's mouth.They knew he was trapped, but here they hesitated, none of them quite willing to go in after a cornered dragon. An argument broke out over who should go in first, it evolved into a fist fight. Apparently, someone had called someone a coward.

“We’ll have to climb,” said Louis.

Geoffry looked askance at the oddly leaning brick buildings which surrounded him, then back at the crowd. 

“You always were a louse,” breathed Sam.

He threw Sam across his shoulder… as gently as he could.

“I am NOT a louse.” he said with a sniff, and as best he knew how began to scale the building. He could feel it sigh and shift beneath him. Luis lost his seat and wrapped his arms about Geoff's neck. It took every ounce of strength he had, but Louis held tight, the building did not fall, and he made it to the top.

He was surprised to see that the sun had not yet finished setting, as dark as it had been on the street.

There was a storm boiling. Dark and angry clouds cast in flame red light. A strong breeze carrying the scent of rain brushed across them, and sent a shiver across Geoff’s spine. Louis rubbed Geoff's neck affectionately,

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it will be behind us all the way. A brisk wind is never an enemy.”

Geof laughed(more of a cough in a dragon’s mouth, but unmistakable). His Louis always did have a terrible sense of direction.

“What? Don’t tell me the cabin is that way?” Louis breathed.

Sam chuckled weakly, “Where else would it be brother? Where else?”

“No, absolutely not. Geoff cannot fly in that! Why won’t you just let me take you home. Mother and Father would-”

“NO!” Sam said, with as much force as a sick man can, “Anywhere but there.”

Geoff sniffed at the air, and scratched his chin in thought, “Perhaps the library then.”

“Library? What Library?” Louis asked.

“The one you took me too when I was a hatchling.”

He scoffed, “Geoff, that place is a ruin by now. No one has been able to enter it in years”

“Rum is there.”

“Rum is a senile old dragon with a habit of attacking guests.”

Geoff twisted his neck to look at Louis, “I’m sure I could talk to him. He’s got to be lonely by now. He can’t mourn forever. Besides, he taught me the old tongue, and the old stories. I’m sure he’d love to hear that I had remembered them.”

Lightning streaked across the sky, and rumbled over the horizon.

“Alright! Fine! Let’s go! Anywhere is better than on a rooftop in a lightning storm.”

Geoff could feel Louis trembling. Lightning had that effect on him.

He stood as tall as he could, straining at the tip of his claws and stretching his wings to catch the breeze, when suddenly the roof gave in beneath his feet. He scrambled, then plunged from the roof, heart in his stomach, praying the breeze would catch them. One second, two seconds! His wings beat furiously at empty air. Louis yelled fearful encouragement. Sam laughed wildly. Then his wings caught the wind and he climbed raggedly into the sky. Lightning streaked and roared above them. The sky broke with rain. Pouring drenching rain.

Geoff could feel Sam’s laughter against him, but he could barely hear it above the storm. There was a moment where Geoff lost his sense of direction, a rare thing for a dragon, but a streak of lightning made night day and he caught sight of the earth. They had been flying right into the storm. He chuckled ruefully.

Lightning shattered the air beside them. It occured to all three at once that being in the air during a storm was not much better than being on the street in Down Town.

But, there was nothing for it.