Early 15th Century. somewhere in the North Atlantic...
He should have never been there in the first place, but his curiosity got the better of him. It was just a brief trip below decks, to the cargo hold. he only wanted to see it for himself, that heavy iron chest brought aboard this voyage. he wondered, as he slipped off from his shipmates and the watchful eye of the captain, if the rumors were true: that the chest contained riches unimaginable.
Taking great pains not to be detected on this frigid night at sea, one crew member – the navigator to be exact – found himself below decks in the hold. Pitch blackness met him. The only light came from a weak lantern nailed on a wall; the only sounds were the squeaks of an occasional rat and the creaking of the rocking vessel itself. Even in the confining bowels of the ship he could feel every movement, and those movements became more pronounced as the ship drifted into the path of a savage early spring storm. However, he paid it no mind; he wanted to find this chest, perhaps break into it and take a few riches for himself. No one will miss it.
So here he was, aboard the Doña Lucia, pondering ways to save face in wake of mishap upon mishap. They said they needed a navigator on what was supposed to be and extended hunting expedition, perhaps do some exploring on the side. Well, he was available but possessed only the rudimentary skills. He lied and said he'd been on numerous voyages despite his young age. Just shy of twenty-three summers, Facio chose not to reveal much about his background.
Now, only a few weeks into the voyage, it was time to face the bitter truth: the Doña Lucia was hopelessly lost at sea, but the young man never told a soul. Fumbling in the darkness, Facio worked oh so quietly, endeavoring to break that latch which was easier accomplished that he thought. "Stupid fools!," he muttered.
"If this chest supposedly contains costly gems, then whoever locked this didn't do a very good job." The ship rocked more roughly in the restless waves. Within the quiet darkness of the hold, Facio could feel the ship tossed about. A bad storm, he thought with a shudder. We must have drifted into its path. Not a good thing, because, in his summation, the weather conditions had grown windier and colder ever since early this morning.
It was now early afternoon, and Facio didn't know the foggiest of where they were or how to return home. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Facio ever so cautiously lifted the lid; his breathing labored under tremendous anticipation.
******
Oh please, don't let anyone discover I'm missing; somebody could come down here and...
Facio let out an exasperated sigh. The chest was now open. What a disappointment for this man! No jewels, no coins, no gold. There was nothing inside that chest but a curious looking egg; at least to Facio it looked like an egg, but unlike any egg he'd seen before. It was large – Facio thought it a good twelve inches around – shiny, greenish in hue with blue and gold speckles. What kind of bird lays something like this, and why is on board this ship?
Facio heard his name called from above. "Facio! Facio! Where are you?"
In disgusted frustration, Facio hastily left the hold – he never bothered to close the chest's lid – and stealthily made his way back up on deck without ever casting suspicion. The cold rush of wind and snow – yes, snow – whipped through his heavy woolen clothing. Thanks to God that no one questioned his absence. He just offered an excuse, "Oh I was taking a much needed nap," and was glad they believed him. But what did it matter, anyway? Facio stole his way to the hold in search of riches, yet his clandestine trip was for naught. He cursed his luck and began to focus on the task at hand. Facio had to put on a brave face for his captain and crew who were in grave danger.
The storm grew stronger, more fierce, but there was a glimmer of hope. Apparently the ship had neared land because the lookout spotted a rocky coastline in the far horizon.
"Perhaps, Facio, if Providence is on our side, we could reach landfall before," said Björn, an old Norse sailor who came along for the adventure and became one of Facio's first friends. He helped Facio try to stabilize the huge billowing sails, a rapidly failing task.
"But I wouldn't count on it. This storm is getting worse by the moment. I don't think she can hold out much longer."
Tossing and rolling about like a child's toy in a bathtub, the Doña Lucia held up surprisingly well considering the gale force winds and fading visibility due to heavy rain, snow, and surge. The air was sharp; the frigid air coursed through bodies despite many layers of heavy woolens. Nothing had prepared them for this. Many men fell overboard as the ship rocked and reeled from surge and wind. Now, if only Facio could be in that hold again...
******
Deep within the cargo hold, the egg began to stir. Perhaps it was the rocking motions of the ship that stirred whatever animal inside its prenatal shelter. Perhaps it was the sudden warmth it felt just a few fleeting moments ago. Whatever it was, it was enough for the baby to crack through its shelled home. If only that man had remained in the hold in few moments longer, then he would behold something remarkable, something in this slice of time people still considered real, not imaginary.
The pecking sounds came faster and louder. The shell cracked as the infant creature emerged. Still covered in amniotic fluid, it looked around, its eyes registering marked puzzlement. What was this place? This is not the mother's nest; it is not even remotely familiar, at least from what this little creature gathered during its incubation.
Now growing stronger, its curiosity getting the best of it, the creature hopped down from the chest and remains of the egg. What it saw was nothing familiar – a foreign place with crates and barrels stacked form floor to ceiling. And this "home" rocked and rolled, sounds from above – winds howling, waves crashing, men screaming for dear life – alarmed the little one to action. For survival instinct took over and, without thinking of the consequences, the baby spread its wings, took a deep breath and exhaled a potent flame which lit up the hold like daylight. Those little flames landed on nearby crates, setting off a fiery chain reaction. Then it closed its eyes and vanished in a puff of smoke and a blaze of fire.
So many questions to ask: How did a dragon egg end up on an ill-fated hunting expedition? How would it brave the elements and survive to see land? Finally, would any of the men on deck see this thing, and what would they think if they indeed should witness a baby dragon in their midst? These questions would be answered in time, but first a neophyte navigator and his first real friend on this doomed ship would soon find themselves in dire circumstances.
******
Suddenly the ship stopped rolling, as if the hand of God reached out to still the foundering vessel. Somehow, during the course of the storm, the Doña Lucia was blown far to the west, sending it crashing headlong onto the rocky shore of an unknown country.
And what of the captain and crew? All gone save a handful of brave souls who survived the tempest. Never, in all their years of seafaring experience, had they encountered such fierce winds and cold.
Now it was only a matter of time before the two remaining men would succumb to the elements, but not before one would at last see what exactly was in that mysterious iron chest.
******
Where were they? That was a good question. Looking about for anything remotely familiar, the neophyte navigator, the one named Facio, all the same thanked the Almighty for letting him live yet cursed his luck that he was allowed to survive. Why, he asked himself, was he spared, since it was he who caused the catastrophe in the first place.
No, he didn't blame himself on the storm, but Facio did take blame for misreading the signs of approaching doom. Surely, even with the most rudimentary knowledge of reading and interpreting signs of impending foul weather, Facio could have seen it coming.
"Do not blame yourself, my friend." This was uttered by Björn, who by now pulled himself out of icy waters only to collapse on the rocky snow laden shore. Yes, they were doomed if warm shelter and food were not found soon. Nothing, not even a village or road, could be seen for miles.
Perhaps the ship crashed onto the shore of an unknown country. Perhaps, to Björn, this is the legendary "New World" which was rumored to be full of gold and riches beyond the imagination. No, this is no Paradise; in fact, this strange land is nothing more than a barren, windswept wasteland. How will they ever survive this with no shelter, food, or potable water?
With only the clothes on their backs, and those garments were quickly icing up in the frigid air, Björn and Facio knew that death could come not soon enough. As a sign from a divine Providence, Fabio spotted smoke rising in the distance.
"Look, Björn!," he said, "perhaps that smoke is from some village or encampment. I say we start walking. It will be all right, for the walk will keep us warm. Perhaps we could find food and shelter for the night."
Björn agreed, and the pair soon found themselves walking along the rocky shore then into the dense forest far off in the distance. What greeted them was a sight unprecedented, and neither man would survive to tell of their adventures to the folks back in the homeland.
******
It was a long, bone-chilling, arduous walk to what Facio and Björn thought was a village situated deep within the forest further inland. What greeted them once they reached the origin of the smoke wasn't remotely a village as they knew it. Instead, they found a clump of rocks and series of grottoes. From where is that smoke coming?
"Who cares?," said Facio to Björn. Their still-wet clothes had already frosted over from the cold air, their feet swollen and sore from the long walk from shore to forest.
"It is shelter, and we're need of warmth." Björn agreed, adding, "Perhaps whoever is in that little cave will kindly let us spend the night, even let us partake some sustenance."
A shivering Facio nodded in agreement. Never in his life had he experienced such cold in his native land; Björn, being from oft-frigid Norway, took his predicament much easier, but he was in decided discomfort. To the cave they approached, calling out to whoever would be there to share some food and warm shelter.
When they reached the entrance, even managed to enter, they found just what they've been seeking: a warm crackling fire with the roasted remains of some small animal.
However, there was not an obvious sign of a human presence. This puzzled both men, but Björn said, "Perhaps whoever was here has gone hunting for more. Surely he would not mind us being here."
"Yes," added Facio, "and perhaps he may be kind enough to tell us exactly where we are, even provide us a way home."
So, not knowing of their benefactor or of the consequences of their actions, the shipwrecked pair settled before the comfort of the fire and enjoyed the remains of freshly roasted rabbit. A very resourceful Björn snapped off a few icicles from the trees, allowing them to melt, thus giving him and Facio a little but much needed fresh water. Facio managed to scour the forest for more kindling.
Their hunger and thirst partially sated, both men stirred the embers to blaze anew then huddled together before drifting off into a deep slumber, the first real sleep they had in two days. Neither man knew of their fate for as they slept; the snow started to fall again, this time more heavily.
Along with the heavy snowfall came howling winds and rapidly dropping temperatures. The tiny grotto's entrance would soon be blocked by snow and ice, thus sealing Facio and Björn in a frigid tomb.
Only Facio would wake momentarily to size up their fatal predicament, and he would get a good look at the mysterious benefactor. He would remain conscious long enough to recognize this creature and give it a name.
A half-conscious Facio, his companion already succumbed to the elements saw it, then saw the snow clogging the grotto's entrance.
"Neve" and "il drago", was all he said before passing from this life to the next.
What became of that creature who emerged from that egg, only to fly to safety before the ship crashed onto shore? She remained in that grotto long enough for the storm to pass, then she looked sadly at the man who set her free.
Now she knew she finally had a name, and a destiny to fulfill. In a tiny voice, she said "Neva...my name is Neva."
Then she closed her eyes, spread her wings, and vanished in a blaze of flames.
>TO BE CONTINUED...To Chapter 2!
Copyright©2003 by P.R. Parker