For as long as Alysha could remember, the people of her village had lived in fear of the great Dragon. Only the oldest of the elders still remembered his coming, and they had been but children when the terrible wyrm had flown down from the north, full of wrath and made his lair in a deep cave at the north end of the valley. To its mortal inhabitants, the dragon gave a stark choice, offer up a yearly tribute to their new overlord or perish in flames. A few villages defied him and for that he flew over and burnt them and all their inhabitants to ash. The rest of the settlements, out of fear complied, though it was a terrible thing he demanded: each month, on the full moon, one of the villages must offer up one of their young maidens as a sacrifice to the dragon.
Over the years that followed, the great dragon was seen less and less in the skies over the valley, but memories of the burned village and fear should his wrath be roused again meant the villagers continued offering up the sacrifices, once a month leaving a beautiful young maiden bound outside the dragon’s lair, to face a terrible fate. This year, the terrible burden of being her village’s sacrifice, as determined by the tribe’s shaman, had fallen on Alysha.
The shaman came to her family’s hut, a few days before the next full moon. After delivering the awful news they’d taken the young maiden into custody, lest she try to escape her face and so doom the village to fire and ruin. She was kept locked up in the shaman’s hut until the day of the sacrifice came.
Just before sunset, some of the village women came to prepare Alysha. The maiden was stripped of all her garments, then ritually bathed and painted with the marks of sacrifice. While the women garlanded her hair and naked figure with flowers, the shaman bound the girl’s hands. A strip of cloth was tied across her lips to keep the girl silent. Not all sacrifices could be expected to maintain the silent decorum appropriate for the moment and their desperate pleas for mercy would only distress the rest of the villagers.
When she was ready, Alysha was led out of the shaman’s hut. The rest of the village had formed up, wailing and moaning for the doomed girl as she was paraded past. The small procession left the village, the shaman in the lead, followed by the sacrificial maiden and then the shaman’s two assistants, flanking the bound maiden a pace or so behind. Silently, they followed an old, but seldom used path which wound down to the northern end of the valley, where lay the cave of the terrible dragon.
For most of the journey, Alysha had gone stoically enough to her fate, but as they came in sight of the cave itself, fear overtook her. She faltered, breaking the silence with gag muffled sobs. No sooner had she done so, though, then the men on either side seized the maiden by her arms. She was carried, struggling and pleading, the rest of the way.
Just before the yawning, dark maw of the cave, there stood a stout wooden pole, planted firmly in the ground. It was carved with the faces of spirits and demons and, at the top, the fanged maw of the great wyrm himself. Taking strong cords, the men lashed Alysha to the pole, as was done with all the girls chosen for sacrifice. The shaman said a quick prayer for Alysha’s spirit to help on its journey into the next world. Then, bowing once to the cave and its terrible inhabitant, the three men turned and fled, covering their ears to the maiden’s piteous cries.
For a time, Alysha thrashed about, struggling against the cords lashing her to the sacrificial post, driven by fear of what was coming, but the young maid had been lashed too tightly and her feeble efforts accomplished nothing. Overhead, the silver disc of the full moon rose inexorably higher and higher into the sky.
When it had reached its zenith, Alysha became aware of a sound, coming from deep in the cave. A horrible, scraping, dragging noise, as some enormous mass dragged itself across the stone towards the entrance. The stygian gloom of the cave took on a distinct form as something started coming out of it. There was a sound of rushing wind and a burst of flames briefly broke through the darkness. A second later, a head poked out into the moonlight. At the top was a crest of long, curved horns, below was a pair of burning red eyes and, most frightening, a huge, fanged maw, large enough to swallow the maiden whole.
Alysha screamed in fear, struggling against the ropes with fresh vigor, but there was no escape for her now. The dragon now emerged fully from the cave, its large batwings slowly flapping up and down, its clawed legs moving as the scaly bulk slowly closed the distance from the cave to the post and its squirming sacrifice with an odd, waddling motion. As it came within range, the dragon gave a bellow, like the blowing of a war horn. Then, its head came down in a long arc…and jerked to a stop inches above the dirt a couple yard to the left of the sacrificial post.
Alysha waited, confusion warring with fear. For a long moment, the Dragon stood in place, its wings and legs still flapping, but otherwise not moving. Then, by ponderous jerks, the head and neck rose back up to its original height. The whole body stiffly rotated, then the head dropped again, coming to a stop a few feet from the maiden. To her amazement, a small, oddly shaped head stuck out of the maw. It turned and looked at her with large yellow eyes, then suddenly disappeared back up the dragon’s gullet. A moment later, the head and neck ponderously winched up again and the body rotated another degree. This time, when it came down again, it was right on target, the mouth enveloping the pole and its struggling occupant.
Though she’d started the suspect, Alysha cried out in fear anyway, seeing the terrifying fanged mouth descend upon her. Once inside, though, she saw her suspicions were correct. The inside of the ‘dragon’ was a wooden frame with scaly hide stretched across it. It was hinged to allow the mouth to open and close. A pair of red glass lanterns were placed at the openings for its eyes, while further down, a set of brass bellows, containing some sort of flammable liquid was positioned behind a flickering candle. Nearby an ordinary war horn hung ready to unleash the dragon’s ‘roar’. Sharing the inside of the mouth with Alysha were several small figures. They were not much bigger than children, but with thin, wiry bodies and unusually large heads, batlike ears and wide mouths filled with small, sharp teeth.
Climbing nimbly from their perches in the frame, a couple of the goblins leapt to the sacrificial pole and began cutting the cords lashing the maiden to it. The fragments of ropes were then used to tie her legs together at the ankles and knees. Seizing the startled captive, the goblins lifted her up with surprising strength. Higher up in the ‘dragons’ throat, more goblins waited to grab and pulled her further up to where the next set of goblins. She gave a cry of fright as she was ‘swallowed’ the whole length of the throat.
Down in the belly of the ‘beast’ Alysha saw more goblins, dozens of them, around the wood framed interior, busy working a variety of devices. Levers to make the wings flap, the legs waddle, the tail to swing back and forth. Once she’d left the gullet, a couple started on a winch, cranking the head back up to its raised position. Another set of goblins started turning a set of wheels, turning the dragon around to head back into the cave, its monthly sacrifice ‘devoured.’
Some years before the goblins,driven from their caves by a bigger, stronger tribe of rivals, had accidentally stumbled up into the old dragon’s cave. It might have ended with them as a snack to tide the evil wyrm over till the next full moon, only the dragon lay still, taking no notice of the interlopers. Once they’d bullied one of their smaller number into going down to check, he reported that the beast was dead. Perhaps some adventuring hero had done the deed, only to succumb to wounds before getting the chance to tell anyone. Perhaps the last sacrificial maiden had proved feistier than those before and made sure to choke the beast on her way down. Or perhaps dragons were simply not as immune to the ravages of time and illness as most thought.
Seeing this, the goblins had an idea. They knew of the dragon and the tribute he demanded and saw an opportunity. With the old beast’s scaly hide stretched on a wooden frame, they found a way to secure high quality captives from the people of the valley each month, at no risk to themselves. Their latest prize, Alysha, was deposited in a cage, ironically where the dragon’s stomach had once been. She would fetch a fine price from the goblin’s contacts with the slaver dealers.
Up on the hills above the dragon’s lair, the shaman and his assistants watched from their hiding place as the great and terrible beast disappeared back into its lair. Solemnly, they observed a moment of silence for the poor maiden, whose sacrifice had saved her village from the fear of the dragon…for now at least.