Deadly Nightshade: There Be Dragons

Dark fantasy meets sly humor in this short story of dragons, princesses, and unlikely heroics

Every so often, I like to step away from my Unlikely Murder Club mysteries and play in a different sandbox. Today, I’ve got a dragon tale for you. Meet Nightshade, who may not be quite what you expect…

Deadly Nightshade

Morning light slanted into the cave’s shadowy mouth. Within, Nightshade stirred, opening a single saucer-sized eye. Steam wafted from his nostrils as he scrambled from the cave, centuries of claw gouges defining his path. 

Once outside, he yawned and stretched, extending his leathery wings across the charred and blackened clearing. He passed a scarred wooden pole driven deep into the ground as he waddled to the cliff edge and leaped off. High above the ancient forest, he rode the thermals, heading out to sea before spiraling down to the white-capped ocean. Folding his wings tight against his body, he dived beneath the waves to where his breakfast swam in schools.

A short time later, hunger sated, he clambered onto the beach where he shook himself, water sluicing off his bronzy scales. He coughed and hacked, spitting flames and a charred bone onto the shore. Seagulls descended, their harsh cries like the screams of the damned. With his clawed feet sinking into the soft sand, Nightshade opened his jaws. A few brave birds hopped inside, pecking the remaining fishy bits from rows of dagger-like teeth. 

A shake of his enormous head scattered the birds. Nightshade shuffled to a sandy spot above the waterline where he settled, spreading his wings, letting the sun warm his icy blood. 

He awoke to find the sun high overhead. Sand drifted from his scales as he lumbered down the beach, muscles bunching like giant fists beneath his gleaming hide. He leaped into the air and made for home. 

But first, a quick errand. With bat-like wings flapping, he soared to Barronshire Castle, third kingdom on the left. A quick spin around the perimeter set the archers scurrying to the battlements. Nightshade shot a thin stream of flame, singeing the King’s standard. It flapped in the breeze as it burned. A few arrows bounced off Nightshade’s scales. He roared once for good measure before turning toward home.

He landed near his cave, folding his sun-warmed wings. A scream reminded him of the occasion. And sure enough, as happened every year, the local kingdoms had gifted him a birthday present. 

He lumbered toward the young woman, angling his head to meet her gaze. She trembled so hard he was sure she would have fallen to her knees if she hadn’t been tied to the post.

She screamed again before shrieking, “Please don’t eat me! Please don’t eat me!” She repeated it over and over until it became a garbled plea. Nightshade opened his mouth, wisps of steam escaping.

And the princess fainted. 

Well, that wasn’t a problem. If she were unconscious, she couldn’t struggle. 

Nightshade plodded around behind her, his spiky tail dragging in the dirt behind him. They’d bound her with homespun rope. Once they’d used chains. He’d chipped a tooth, and it had taken fifty years to grow back. But today, one dagger-sharp claw made quick work of the ropes. The princess tumbled to the ground, a heap of silky fabric and auburn tresses. 

He wrapped one huge taloned foot around her hips, then, sitting back on his haunches, clasped her shoulders with his other front foot. Spreading his wings for balance, he hopped like a vast bird of prey to the edge of the cliff and soared off. 

The princess awoke once during the flight, screamed, and fainted again. She was still unconscious when they landed on the tiny island. He dropped her onto the sand. 

Day had waned during their journey, the nearby village only dark shapes in the gloom. With shouts and cries, the villagers charged from their huts, torches in hand, encircling Nightshade. 

The tribal elder moved forward, leaning on her staff. She bared her toothless gums, but before she could speak, the princess awoke. Seeing Nightshade looming over her, she began screaming again. One brave villager darted to the princess, whispering reassuring words, helping her stand, and leading her away. 

Nightshade watched her go before turning his attention back to the elder. He dipped his enormous head. 

A smile split her wrinkled face. “Happy birthday, old friend. Thank you for saving another princess. She shall live out her days here on this island paradise among the other princesses and occasional prince you have saved over the years.”

Nightshade roared, fire shooting into the sky. The children oohed and aahed.

The old woman limped closer, laying a hand on Nightshade’s head where it now rested on the sand. “We are eternally grateful. And yes, we have cake. Although we’ve learned by now that you cannot expect a dragon to blow out the candles.”

The rest of the evening included feasting, music, dance, and the occasional roar. As many as six children could ride on Nightshade’s back at once, so everyone got a turn. 

Nightshade would remain on the island for the next six months, long enough for the brave knights intent on slaying the dragon and saving the princess to lose interest. Then he’d return to his beloved cavern, singe a few flags, and await his next birthday present. Maybe a prince this time. 

Thanks for Reading!

If you enjoyed Deadly Nightshade, you might like the misadventures of Agatha Shadewell and her friends in The Unlikely Murder Club series. Start with the free prequel, Agatha’s First Murder, available here.

And don’t forget to check back on the blog for more short fiction, behind-the-scenes extras, and updates from the town of Unlikely.