Excerpt from the story “Dragon Springs & Other Things” in Dragon Springs & Other Things: A Short Story Collection Book I by Raven Oak – RELEASE DATE 6/1/2023
“A dragon? Why a dragon?
“The real question is why not a dragon. I mean, can’t you see it?” I asked.
My father frowned, his bushy brows climbing further towards his receding hairline.
“No, no—just picture it! Robo-wings in gold stretched out across the blue skies of Gharmon. What a sight. Everyone would love it!”
My father sighed. “Now Jonna, wouldn’t this time off from your studies be better spent developing something of…well, better use? Perhaps fixing the plumbing at the academe or working on that new steam powered contraption—that rolling thing. What did Bron call it?”
“A train, Father,” I muttered and repressed the urge to roll my eyes.
“Yes, the train. Why can’t you make something like that? His Majesty would be sure to notice us—your work.”
“Just what I need. Another man telling me what to do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I waved a roughened hand in the air. He wouldn’t understand even if I tried to explain it.
“Besides, what would you make a dragon out of?”
I grinned. It was a question I’d contemplated for years, ever since I’d been apprenticed to Bron. “Springs and…well, other things you wouldn’t understand—it doesn’t matter. I’ve got the plans drafted and a space in Bron’s workshop ready to go….”
He leveled a new stern glare. “I had hoped you were beyond such…frivolous ventures, Jonna. You’re fifteen and ’prenticed to one of the best tinkerers in the kingdom. It’s a high honor, not one to be taken lightly or squandered away on a fantastical nothing.”
“But a dragon would be a boon to the crown! A guardian and means of travel both. Imagine, Father—flying!”
“And crashing to the rocky ground below. Dead. What would I do if I lost you?” His voice trembled as he spoke, and he gripped my shoulder tightly.
Have to make your own tea for once.
“Promise me you’ll put your time to something more worthwhile. Something…safer.”
A picture of the train popped into my head. Twelve people had lost limbs developing it—a fact my father either ignored or was not aware of—and I nodded. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
At least not yet.
