Dragon's Lair

James Sherman sat in a pew and considered the intricate stained glass window. It depicted a medieval knight in full armor on a rearing steed, the knight's lance having pierced the heart of the three-headed dragon, its eyes rolling in its final agony. Good vs. Evil, with Good triumphant. A riveting story with heroes and villains, plenty of action, and a happy ending. Perhaps someday, James thought, life will imitate art.

It was just the third church he had visited on his trip - a therapeutic quest to heal and renew himself as his therapist had put it - but this was easily the largest and most detailed and intricate stained glass James had seen so far. He guessed it was easily fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide with thousands of pieces of glass arranged in the strange geometry of the grooved lead carnes. The knight in golden armor, his lance with a silver shaft, edged in black, flecks of red bursting from the dragon's wound. His mighty steed white with matching golden armor. The scales of the dragon in greens, its eyes a sickly yellow. Orange and yellow flames shot from between the white daggers of its teeth.

"Buenos días, hijo mío," the priest said.

"Buenos días, uh, padre," James said.

"American?" the priest asked. "May I join you?"

James nodded. "James Sherman," he said and extended his hand.

Taking his hand, the priest said, "I'm Father Teodoro. Welcome to the Church of San Jorge the Redeemer." He took a seat next to James.

"Thanks," James said. "Your English is very good."

"Not nearly as good as my Portuguese or French," the priest said. "Or my Latin, of course."

James smiled. "Impressive. But I'm afraid you're stuck with English with me."

"I'll make do," Teodoro said. "Are you Catholic, my son?"

James hesitated. "I'm a tourist," answered. 

"I see," Teodoro said. "What are you looking for?"

James looked back at the stained glass window. "Dragons."

"Dragons? You've come to the right place, then," Teodoro said. "Do you have a horse?"

James looked back at Father Teodoro. "You're kidding, right? I mean, you didn't think I was seriously looking for dragons, did you?"

"Aren't you?" Teodoro asked. 

"No, of course not," James said.

"I think you are," Teodoro said. 

James' little joke had backfired on him, trapping him in a conversation he didn't want to have. He wasn't sure what he was looking for; perhaps he was looking for something to look for, a quest that could give his life meaning. Perhaps he only wanted to shut up his therapist, to take a break from reliving a moment that had left nothing but desolation in its wake. Perhaps he was just running away. He had survived a horrific tragedy, a plane crash that had taken the life of his wife Lynn and their two children, Catherine and Albert. For his trouble, the universe had written him a check. Thanks to the lawyers and the insurance policy, he had more money than he had ever imagined, but it could not ease the hurt in his heart or erase the thoughts that haunted him, that consumed his life like a fire burning wood to ash. It had been one year to the day since the crash. James had decided that at least in one respect, Einstein had been wrong. God does play dice with the universe. Sometimes it comes up snake eyes. He looked back up to the stained glass knight.

"The dragon is merely a symbol of evil, or even a proxy for the Devil himself," James said. "A mythic monster. A variation on the serpent in the garden. A character in a story meant to scare ignorant peasants and little children, a marketing campaign for the church. The dragon is like the Geico Gecko, only with sharp teeth, fiery breath, a fondness for gold, and a taste for human blood."

"You don't believe?" Teodoro said. "In God? The Devil? Good and Evil?"

"I believe in Evil," James said.

"And so you search for dragons," Teodoro said.

"Really, Padre, I was kidding when I said that," James said.

"Finding a dragon would be actual proof that Evil exists. Yes? And wouldn't the existence of Evil prove the existence of Good?" Teodoro asked.

"Does the existence of oranges prove the existence of apples?" James asked.

Teodoro smiled. "Apples and oranges," he said. He bowed his head and James thought for a moment that he was praying. "I believe you have been wounded by the dragon's tooth. Something terrible happened to you. Something you will need to face - by slaying the dragon - to prove that Good - that God - still exists in this world. And in you." Teodoro returned his gaze to James. "I can take you to La Guarida del Dragon - the Dragon's Lair."

James smiled nervously. As long as his fear was held in the shackles of his subconscious he felt in control. Was that just an illusion? Was he ready to have the shadowy dread that crouched inside him dragged out into the light of day? He tried making another joke. "But I don't have a horse."

Teodoro smiled in return. "I have horses. It's a short ride into the woods and Cueva del Diablo where we will find the Dragon's Lair. We could be there in twenty minutes."

The church bells chimed. James stood up. "Thanks but I have to get back to the hotel. Dinner plans." It was a lie but his discomfort was edging toward fear.

Father Teodoro stood. "I understand." He placed his right hand on James' left shoulder and said, "I will remember you in my prayers."

James didn't think that would do any good but he thanked the priest and left.

*****

The next morning, James found himself standing before the front doors of the Church of San Jorge the Redeemer, wondering why he had come, or more precisely, fighting with himself as he tried to deny why he had come. Nightmares had wracked his sleep. Jet airliners on fire. Houses on fire. There was a dragon in his nightmare and James realized he was the dragon. His wife and children on fire. 

He took a deep breath and was about to enter the church when he heard a voice call out to him. "James!"

He turned and saw Father Teodoro approaching, leading two horses. "Good morning!" he said. "A beautiful day for a ride, yes?"

"How did you know I'd be back?" James asked.

Father Teodoro glanced up at the sky, then said to James, "I know a guy." He smiled. "I know you're in pain. You feel lost and alone."

"And you know this how?" James asked, immediately regretting the anger in his voice.

"Because it's how we all feel," Teodoro said. 

"It wasn't how I felt before your God threw a flock of birds into a jet engine," James said.

Father Teodoro's face brightened again. "So," he said. "You do believe?"

"In a God that crashes airplanes full of innocent men, women and children?" James asked. "Sure. That I do believe."

"You're angry with me," Teodoro said, "for presuming to know you. How you feel." He took a deep breath and let it out. "I'll put the horses away."

"No," James said. He hesitated. "It's just… I've never ridden a horse before."

"It's okay," Teodoro said. "The horse knows what to do."

*****

For the first kilometer of their journey, the conversation was focused on keeping James on his horse, Francisco. Francisco seemed largekt indifferent to James' presence as he walked along the trail, to the right of Father Teodoro on his horse, Miguelito. James tried hard to emulate the ineffable cool of the cowboys he'd seen in the Westerns that were a particular favorite of his father. It was a beautiful morning, sunny but still cool, but James was too busy waiting to fall to notice.

"How much further?" James asked.

"A few more minutes," Father Teodoro said. "Unless you would like to pick up the pace?"

"This is fine," James said.

"What brought you here?" Teodoro asked.

"I told you," James said. "I'm a tourist."

"Looking for dragons," Teodoro said.

"I'm on vacation," James said. "Sometimes you just need a break, you know, to get away from things."

"What things are you getting away from?" Teodoro asked.

James hesitated. He was struck by the cliche of confession to a priest. He felt like the set up to a joke. A priest and an atheist go for a ride on horseback… looking for a bar and a punch line. He took a deep breath.

"You were right the other day," James said. "Something terrible happened to me."

"The plane crash you blamed on God?" Teodoro asked.

James nodded. "We were flying home after a family vacation at Disney. Lynn - my wife - was a big Disney fan."

"Was?" Teodoro asked.

"She died in the crash," James said. "Along with our two kids, Catherine and Albert."

"I am so sorry for your loss, James," Teodoro said.

"Yeah," James said. "I mean, thank you. Anyway, Lynn wanted to take the kids to see Mickey, Space Mountain, everything. I was kind of a jerk about the whole thing, but the kids seemed to have a good time. The happiest place on earth and all I wanted to do was go home and get back to work."

"Work?" Teodoro asked. "What is your profession?"

"I'm, uh, I was a systems architect. I worked in the IT department at Allstate. Did you know that approximately 60% of all technology projects fail? That's what I wanted to get back to. An acceptably unsuccessful life." James paused. "I didn't even ride the tea cups."

"So you feel guilty," Teodoro said. "You blame yourself for their deaths."

"No," James said. "Not exactly." He paused again. "I'm a thief. I stole moments of happiness from the woman I loved and our two children. And now I can never, never give them back."

"So, you decided to tour the churches of Spain in search of dragons?" Teodoro asked.

"This conversation is not making the journey seem any shorter," James said.

"No?" Father Teodoro said. "Because we are arrived."

James had been too deep in his own feelings to notice the changing flora along the trail or the darkening skies above. The vineyard next to the church had become tall pine and beech trees bracketing the trail up the hill to the cave mouth that yawned before him, deep and black and large enough to swallow an elephant. The muscular, gray clouds crackled with lightning as thunder rolled down the mountainside.

"The Dragon's Lair?" James asked.

Teodoro nodded. "Cueva del Diablo. The Devil's Cavern. This is where you will find the dragon you've been seeking."

"I told you that was a joke," James said. 

"Was it?" Teodoro asked.

James glanced at the sky as lightning flashed in the clouds. He felt a shiver. "Maybe we should be heading back."

"It's just a passing storm," Teodoro said. He got off his horse and began walking toward the cavern. 

James hesitated. Not wanting to, he felt compelled to follow Teodoro, dismounting with some difficulty before leading his horse to where Teodoro stood, waiting for him. James peered into the cave mouth. There was nothing but blackness; nothing but nothingness.

"So," James said. "What do we do now?"

"We?" Teodoro said. "This is your quest, James. From this point on you make your way alone."

"Alone," James said, not at all happy that he couldn't hide the fear that cracked in his voice.

"But I do have something for you," Teodoro said as he turned and reached into his saddlebag.

Expecting a Bible or a cross on a chain, James said, "Thanks, but that stuff only works if you believe, right? And I don't -"

Teodoro turned and held out a black handled flashlight to James. "I think all you need is enough light to see where you are going."

James nodded and took the flashlight. "Right. Thanks."

"I'll wait here for you," Teodoro said. "Go with God, my son."

Go with God? What am I doing here? James' mind raced like a car's engine, with the gearbox in neutral and the gas pedal pushed firmly to the floor. He had never thought of himself as a brave man but courage seemed even more elusive in this moment than at any other time in his life. He didn't believe in dragons any more than he believed in God. No. Believe wasn't the right word. This was about fact. Or fiction, in the case of dragons and deities. Myths.

James took a deep breath. Why am I so afraid? Of dragons? Of dying? Of living? He switched on the flashlight and stepped into the cavern.

He moved at a slow, careful pace, uncertain of his footing. He had been walking for about five minutes when he kicked something that clattered along the stone floor of the cavern. When the beam of the flashlight found it, James recognized it as the knight's breastplate from the stained glass window in the church. How could that be? James started to walk further into the cavern then stopped. He walked back to where the armor lay and picked it up. Don't be ridiculous, he thought. He looked into the blackness ahead and then considered that maybe it's not that ridiculous after all. He slipped his arms through the straps at the shoulders of the breastplate, then buckled the strap at the waist and continued on into the cavern.

He smelled the acrid odor of sulfur just before he caught the glint of metal in the sweep of the flashlight's beam. It was the knight's lance. He peered into the blackness. He could feel heat all around him, embracing him, weighing him down like a heavy coat. That smell is a warning, James thought. Or… a sign? Dragon sign? He had never thought of himself as a hero. The sidekick, maybe. Comic relief. He took a deep breath. But if that were the case, he thought, I'd probably already be dead. He picked up the lance and continued on into the cavern.

After a minute that felt like an eternity, James heard what sounded like the bellows of a smithy, followed by a burst of orange and yellow light deeper in the cavern. He hesitated. The smell was overwhelming, stinging his nostrils. His eyes watered. This must be a dream, he thought, a nightmare. He wondered if it was true that if you died in a dream that you died in real life. You always wake up just in time, don't you? You must… James had had recurring nightmares since the plane crash but he had always woken up, hit snooze on the alarm (twice), showered, shaved, and gone to work. Every day. Just like nothing happened. Who wants to be the hero of that story? The bellows exhaled again. Orange and yellow light glowed in the distance. He took a step and kicked something that clinked and clanked across the rocky floor. It was the knight's helmet. This time there was no hesitation. He picked it up and put it on. He continued on into the cavern.

He could see light ahead. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, he thought. An oncoming locomotive, breathing fire, the fate of the unfortunate. There was no running away from this. He dropped the flashlight, no longer needing it, certain at this moment that he would not be making it back and feeling… relieved? That wasn't quite right. He felt a calm that he hadn't known before in his life, a resolve. A moment later he entered a monstrous chamber, larger than the nave of the Church of San Jorge. It was bright with the fires that burned on the walls. James did not see the dragon at first, even as it watched him, its yellow eyes appearing as if they were flames on the chamber's walls. 

Then it moved. It rose to its feet, shaking off the camouflage of the cavern's rocky floor, its onyx scales rippling in the light. It rose up on its hind legs and spread its wings; its three heads pouring fire straight up to the ceiling of the chamber, the flames flexing, boiling, then rolling down the walls on either side. 

James summoned every ounce of courage and strength he could muster. He raised his right arm, the lance gripped tightly in his right hand. He took a deep breath and cried out as he ran toward the dragon, its six yellow eyes now fixed upon him. 

He threw the lance.