Snake Eyes

The crowd erupted in angry jeers and insults. Someone threw a stone and it hit him in the throat. He put his hands to his neck, choking.

“If I find out who threw that, I’ll ride out and report you myself,” I shouted.

“Reasonable prices of course,” said Wiggery, “We’ll be almost giving it away.”

More shouts and curses flew.

“Just calm down, everyone,” I said. “Now listen. These two men have lost an entire field of crops because of this. I proffer they give half of the demon to the village, and keep half themselves to sell as compensation. That way, you’ll still get your Feast of the Demon—”

“Dragon!”

“—whatever it is, and they might survive to plant another season.”

There were grumbles but the atmosphere was far less hostile. I whispered to Prattle.

“Help me out, priest, I’ve just prevented a bloodbath.”

Leopold Prattle looked disgusted to have to agree with me but he had no choice.

“Delly Duke is right. The Feast of the Dragon will go ahead as planned. All we have to do is divided the dem…dragon in two. Praise be to the Great Father.”

There was a muttered and unenthusiastic ‘praise be’ from the crowd. By now they were tired and overheating. A few of the women had fainted because of the sun and the stench of the demon. In weather like this the cadaver was likely to be flyblown and rotting before the day was out and Rickett and Wiggery would never sell a single cut of meat. I didn’t see any reason to point out such details.

That was when I took my first close look at the ‘bounty’ we’d been ‘blessed’ with. The crater it had made was large, a good fifteen strides across. The creature’s wingspan was about ten strides; it’s body length something like six strides. Its naked skin was as red as ripe chilli peppers and looked tougher than leather. The legs resembled a dog’s but were far longer, with hooves instead of paws. They were still drawn up as though someone had tickled the demon just before it hit the ground.

Its arms were long and curved, the hands elongated with grasping hook-like talons. Every joint of bone to bone was visible and the sinews that strapped the creature together were as thick as woven cables. The ribs protruded and the muscles were spare. No fat inhabited any part of the creature’s body. Relative to the demon’s own frame, its muscles looked thin and scrawny. But beside it, the strongest man in the village would have looked like he was made of matchsticks.

The wings were membranous things. The dirt and rocks pressed up through them and in some places the impact had torn them.

The face of the thing was even redder than the rest. In profile it looked somewhat like the shape of a new moon, a crescent in which the forehead and chin conspired to meet. The nose hooked downwards and its nostrils were flat and broad—I could easily imagine it snorting furious bursts of smoke out through them. Its skull pressed outwards against its skin and every angle of the face was hard and aggressive. The horns were black, short and hooked inwards.

Its lips had drawn back to reveal the demon’s yellow teeth— every one a needle sharp canine and not a molar among them. It looked like it was smiling, which I found hard to overlook. Its yellow eyes, with the oblong pupils of a goat, were also open. This, too, concerned me. Had anyone even checked to see if the demon had been killed by the impact? Perhaps it was only stunned. Worse, perhaps it was just pretending to be dead.

Finally—and this was one detail that, like the smell from the thing, had escaped no one’s attention—the creature’s ‘demonhood’ was not only enormous, it was also studded with fleshy, backward-pointing barbs. And it had three testicles. This made the men of the village darken with jealous anger, the women darken with unholy fantasies. It made the children laugh and point.

It was decided that everyone depart until the worst of the midday heat was gone. At that time Rickett and Wiggery, with the help of Reginald Cleaver, the village butcher, would divide the demon into two equal pieces. Cleaver would then make the necessary incisions and removals to produce ‘edible’ cuts for the first ever Feast of the Dragon.

By the time I got back to Velvet, my lunch was well past its best and though she threatened with great sweetness to paddle my bumcakes rosy, I didn’t have the will to take her up on it. The sun was high in the untouchable and the whole of Long Lofting was either ready for or already enjoying its afternoon nap.

Headless