R. L. Copple

         "I plan to expand the Angel Guard's Tactical Manual.” Earl patted the bulky book on George’s desk. He had ideas and knew he could make a difference. “It hasn't been updated in eons."

         "This is your first assignment, Earl. How on heaven can a newbie angel think to change the manual?" The corner of George's mouth turned up as he shook his head.

         "Simple, my friend. I'm going to marry my assignment, Christopher the dragon-slayer, to your assignment, Argu the dragon."

         George's mouth fell open; his eyes bulged. "Do you have any idea how silly that sounds? You're crazy if you think that'll work."

         "George," Earl said, "These days a good guardian works outside the box to keep his assignment alive."

         "Outside the box?" George shook his head. "You've been listening to nineteen-eighties, self-help seminars again, haven't you?"

         "Hey, you should listen to them. Like, totally mind expanding stuff. Rad to the max, like, fer sure." Earl chuckled and seated himself in an easy chair constructed of clouds.

         Earl swept his hand in front of him. "Just look at your office, George. White walls, white desk, white chairs, white staples and pens. The only color here is a photo on your desk of your Martian family vacation and the black coffee in your white cup. Face it, you're locked in a box."

         George stared at his coffee cup and chuckled.

         Earl continued, "I have a responsibility to keep this dragon-slayer alive. He's in a dangerous business and needs intervention. I believe this will work. Then I'll stand out from the pack and Michael will beg to promote me!"

         George moved toward Earl. "You'll stand out all right. Listen, these people's lives are not a stage you can play out your innovative scripts on. Study how the previous guardians protected him and do what they did. They succeeded."

         "So if Christopher kills your assignment, Argu, I'll be successful?"

         "Well, no, but you know what I mean. I've my assignment and you've yours. Argu's longevity isn't your concern."

         "I see where you're going with this." Earl pointed a finger at George. "You desire him to be her dinner. Why am I talking to the competition?"

         George sighed. "Earl, I'm not your opponent. You don't understand how this will affect other lives. The interwoven threads of heaven and earth are more complex than you think."

         "All right then, how would you propose I handle this, huh?" Earl crossed his arms.

         George paused. "Here's my best advice:  Mercy's power towers above all else."

         "See, instead of practical help, you spout platitudes."

         "But it's true." George sat at his desk and sipped his Jehoshaphat Java. "Well, how do you propose to accomplish this marriage? I can't wait to hear this."

         Earl didn't care for George's opinion, but his stare bore into him. "With the help of a wizard."

         "A wizard? You know a wizard?"

         "Yes and no. I don't know one, personally, but I can be one."

         Earl stood. He raised his hands, cupped them, and formed a ball of light. He drew his hands apart and threw it over himself. Earl checked his clothing. It had changed into an old tattered cloak dotted by small stars, complete with a hood. He raised a hand to his face. He felt wrinkles and aged skin under his fingertips.

         "Tada!" Earl said, "It's Dante, the greatest wizard of all ages!"

         George shook his head. "You've got to be kidding. You'll do more damage than good. I say dump this idea before you create messes I'll have to deal with."

         "Watch and learn my dear friend. Watch and learn what new ideas can accomplish!" Earl vanished before George could speak another word.

 

         Argu focused on the drip, drip of water in distant caverns. She yawned; a puff of fire escaped her nostrils. She stretched her red, scaly body and then curled her tail around her. Argu closed her eyes and drifted between sleep and wakefulness.

         Sounds of footfalls rang in her sensitive ears. Argu's ears perked up. She watched the entrance through a nearly closed eye.

         A hooded head peered into the cavern; its body followed. Argu could only see illuminated eyes from the face, but a beard flowed down to the creature's waist. Pale light from the entrance backlit the form and created a temporary radiance around the figure. It examined the treasure on the floor.

         Argu tensed. She sprang to her feet and spread out her wings. "You're dumber than I thought, dragon-slayer. After I'm done with you, I'll enjoy your roasted flesh for dinner and pick my teeth with your leg bones." Argu displayed her razor sharp teeth in a grin. "Do you have any last words before I cook you for my evening meal?"

         "Well, well. What a wonderful display, my Argu," the strange old man said.

         "Your Argu? Who do you think you are?" Argu lowered her wings and raised her head.

         The man pulled back his hood to reveal a scarred and wrinkled face. Unkempt, gray hair flowed over his shoulders.

         "I'm a wizard. Can't you tell? And since I happen to be immortal, you can't kill me, so cool off. I'm here to help you after all. I'd appreciate more hospitality."

         Argu stared at the old man. He displayed every stereotypical description of a wizard she had ever seen or heard. "Why would you decide to help me?"

         The man scanned the room and sat on a rock formation protruding from the wall. "Because dragon-slaying breeds violence. It's so twelve-hundredish, time to dump this outdated practice."

         Argu smiled. "Well, I'm for that." Her smile faded. "But how do I know this isn't a trap?"

         "For starters, my name's Dante. I happened to pass through, advertising my wizardly services when I overheard talk at the tavern. They said a knight named Christopher plans to kill you."

         "Yes, he's the one." Her face flushed at the mention of his name.

         Dante pulled a pipe from his cloak and filled it with a heavenly-smelling tobacco. He patted his pockets then stared at Argu. "Do you have a light?"

         Argu smiled, showing her teeth.

         "You know what I mean! You may not be able to kill me but you would still burn off my clothing. My naked cunning would be revealed." Dante smiled.

         "Don't tempt me." She leaned her head close to Dante and pursed her lips. She puffed and a blue flame appeared from her mouth.

         Dante placed his pipe under the fire and puffed until smoke floated over his head.

         Argu waited while Dante puffed. She frowned. "Well, I assume you have a plan? Speak up wizard. Otherwise I'll go back to sleep."

         "Yes I do, dear Argu. It'll involve a spell. You may not like it."

         "If it will keep me from getting killed, I'm for it."

         "Then let's refine our plan tonight. You, my Argu, will need to marry Christopher."

         "What!" A flash of flames escaped her nostrils. "Are you out of your mind, wizard? Even if I could marry a human, the very thought of marrying him turns my stomach. And let me tell you, it takes a lot to turn a dragon's stomach."

         "I knew you wouldn't like it," Dante said.

         "Even if I decided to do it, how would you convince a dragon-slayer to marry me?"

         "Argu, Argu. Are you not aware that wizards can brew love potions?"

         Argu paused. "Well, yes, but tell me why I would desire him to fall in love with me?"

         "It's quite simple. Once he's married you, he'll not be able to kill you. It's like an alliance. Then he'll leave you to live your life in peace for he cannot live with you."

         "That's crazy. Exactly what are you smoking?"

         Dante remained silent. He puffed on his pipe; the smoke rose to the cave ceiling.

         Argu smiled. If he could do what he said, she could use this wizard's silly scheme to destroy the knight. "Lord, what a fool this immortal is."

         "What?" Dante stiffened and glared at Argu.

         "Oh, I said, ‘what a foolishly clever plan of this immortal.'" She gave Dante a big grin. "But do you think this love potion of yours will make him love a big, old, scaly dragon like me?"

         "No, but it should be sufficient if you're turned into a beautiful young woman, just his type." Dante smiled.

         If he could do this, it would be perfect. She would have no problem getting close to the love-struck knight. He would then become the slayee instead of the slayer. "You have a deal, wizard. When do we start?"

         "Right now. I have the potion and spell with me. I overheard in the tavern he's planning to attack in a week. You'll have to seduce him into marriage before then."

         "Then it's time to prove you are indeed a wizard by changing me into the woman of his dreams."

         Dante drew one last puff from the embers of his pipe and put it away. He stood and removed a book from under his cloak.

         "Hum, let's see." Crisp paper flipped through his fingers. Dante separated a couple stuck pages. "Here we are." Dante held out one hand toward Argu. "From the scales of a dragon to the pale color of a...," Dante raised the book closer to his eyes.

         "What's wrong?"

         "Oh, this is a new book." Dante glanced at Argu with an unsure smile. "I need to read the footnotes to ensure I change you into the right thing."

         Argu rolled her eyes. He appeared old but acted as if he had learned magic yesterday.

         "Ah, here it is, now hold still, this won't hurt a bit."

         Hurt? Argu tensed.

         "From the scales of a dragon to the pale color of ale in a flagon, make this beast enough for the love of man to feast!"

         The wizard blurred for a second but sharpened back into focus. "That's horrible poetry. The meter's all off."

         "It's not meant to be poetry. It's a spell you silly woman. The point is it works."

         "It did?" She realized the wizard had grown to her size. No, she had shrunk to his size. Her voice sounded sweet instead of gruff. Her body had morphed into a woman's, like many she had seen. It seemed so thin, as if an ordinary beast could chomp right through it.

         "I hope I don't have to fight in this body. It's not designed for it."

         "No, but it is designed to attract Christopher's love." Dante stared at her. His lips formed a smile. "Yes, it's very well designed. I think we'd better obtain some clothing for you."

         "Why?"

         "You're attempting to attract one particular man, not every man in the village."

         "Why would lack of clothing cause that?"

         Dante threw up his hands. "Look, you'll need pockets to carry the potion."

         "Oh, okay. Why didn't you just say so?"

         Dante shook his head. "You remind me of Salome. Here, hold this love potion while I find a spell to create clothing for you."

         "Salome?"

         "Oh yea, an old ang—I mean, witch friend of mine. I guess you can use the name if you wish."

         "Salome." She felt the way it rolled off her lips. "I like the sound of it. Salome it is." Argu smiled. It wouldn't be long before she'd have Christopher at her mercy.

 

         Christopher ducked as the broad sword swooshed over his head. He thrust with his weapon to the chest, but missed. Christopher swung in a figure-eight pattern. Still, he struggled to gain the offensive. Frustrated, he fell for the feint to the right. He grimaced at the cutting pain on his belly.

         "Owch! Mom, that hurt. Can't you be more careful?"

         "Oh I'm sorry, dear. I lost myself in the moment." Her smile didn't communicate any regrets.

         "If you slice my liver out, the dragon will be the least of my worries." He scanned his wound. She had drawn blood, a deep scratch.

         "Neither will you fight the dragon well if your sixty-year-old mother can get the best of you."

         "But I'm not sword fighting the dragon."

         "How about your fiancée?" A sweet voice sang behind him.

         Christopher turned to see Salome gliding over the grassy yard. Her reddish-brown hair shimmered in the sun like fire. His eyes followed her every move.

         "Hello, Henrietta, how's your family?" Salome said.

         "Oh fine, just fine. And yours?"

         Salome opened her mouth, paused and then said, "Thank you, they're fine. They would like to meet you, but they're always too busy with their, ah, hearth business to travel much."

         "Are you staying for dinner?" Christopher said.

         "I would be glad to dine with you. I even brought more of the wine you like, dear." She lifted a bulging wineskin.

         "Wonderful," Henrietta said, "I'll go get dinner ready. And don't you two be late either. Cold food makes for a cold heart."

         Wineskin in hand, Henrietta left for the house.

         As soon as Henrietta was out of sight, Christopher's arms locked with Salome's. Her skin felt like velvet. Her hair whipped around his head in a gust of wind, embracing his heart and soul. Her lips pressed upon his and sent a tingling buzz through his limbs. It seemed like hours passed before they broke the spell for air.

         "You're an answer to longing desire." The words flowed from the stirring of his heart.

         But, instead of a loving response, loathing emanated from her expression.

         Christopher wrinkled his brow. Did she love him or not? "Are my whispers nothing?"

         He followed her eyes to the sword still in his hand. He placed it back in its sheath. "You've never liked this sword."

         "I've no use for violence. I find it barbaric."

         "I admit killing is ugly. We should avoid it if possible. Yet sometimes one has no choice, kill or be killed. That dragon's a killer."

         "How do you know?" She stepped back, hands on hips.

         "Because people often disappear for no reason. It must be the dragon. He has to eat."

         "Maybe those disappearances aren't related to the dragon. Maybe she eats animals like you."

         Christopher huffed. He couldn't believe she was taking the dragon's side. "Look, it's the way things are. Dragons burn and pillage. Someone has to stop them before people die."

         "Have you or anyone else seen this dragon burn and pillage?"

         Christopher scratched his head. "Well, no, but it doesn't matter. We all know he will."

         Salome rolled her eyes. "I don't know that. You don't even know the gender of the dragon. You might be killing an innocent animal, a very misunderstood animal."

         She seemed to have plenty of maybes and mights. "I have no choice. I have a reputation to uphold."

         Her eyes narrowed. "That reputation is nothing and you'll get nothing from it."

         Christopher clenched his teeth and turned his back to her. She had questioned his chosen profession. Yet, he lacked valid counterarguments to answer her common-sense points. Then he heard a sigh and felt her hand on his back.

         "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frustrate you." She rubbed his neck. "Let's join your mother. Perhaps I can help her with dinner."

         He felt the tension drain from him. She had a magical way of helping him over his emotional frustrations, even those she created.

         A week had passed since they'd met, yet they acted like a couple who had been together for years. He couldn't wait to marry her.

         "You go ahead." He squeezed her hands. "I'll be there in a moment. First I need to pray and think."

         "Very well, my love, I'll see you after a while." She glided toward the house. Christopher watched trance-like until she disappeared from view.

         Christopher turned and strolled alongside the forest's edge, head down. "God, what am I to do about this dragon if not prevent him from killing innocent people? Or, could Salome be right? Did the dragon kill people? Is my job pointless and cruel? Is the real choice before me whether to be a dragon-slayer or not?"

         He spent several minutes in prayer before he retired to the house for dinner.

 

         Salome talked long into the night with Christopher and Henrietta. As Salome had hoped, Henrietta invited her to stay the night rather than take the dark road home. She huddled under blankets in a spare bed. Less than an hour passed before Henrietta and Christopher snored away on the other side of the room.

         Salome arose and tiptoed across the floor to Christopher's bed. Her plan had succeeded so far. Now she would finish it.

         She stared at the snoring knight before her. She had not expected him to be so charming and loveable. She longed to marry him and live happily ever after.

         Yet, even if they did marry, once he found out the truth, there could be no happily ever after. She sighed at the lost possibility.

         His sword hung on a peg by his bed. She unsheathed it and held it in her hands. It shimmered in the moonlight. A feeling of authority and respect, confidence and safety coursed through her heart. What a wonderful sword!

         Then in her mind, she heard the distant dragon voices this weapon had killed. Joy and power morphed into revulsion and fear. She held the broad sword over his bed. The voices grew louder: "Blood for blood, give us justice."

         The weapon rose into the air; it quivered in the moonlight. If she killed him, wouldn't she bear his guilt? Maybe, but at least no more dragons would die at his hands. She could not allow her desire for him to prevent the execution of justice. She pulled the sword up farther and tensed her muscles.

         She plunged the weapon to its target. Before it could draw blood, a bright light burst forth between her and him. She lost her footing, fell backwards, and collapsed with a thud without losing her grip on the sword. The light formed into what Salome could only call an angel.

         "My dear," said the bright man, "Sorry I scared you, but I couldn't let you kill him."

         "Who are you?" Her heart pounded in her chest.

         "I'm your guardian angel. The name's George."

         "You mean, dragons have guardian angels?" She stood.

         "Of course, all living creatures do."

         Her voice quivered. "How come so many die then? How come you don't stop people like him from killing dragons?" She stared at the knight. His peaceful sleep contrasted with her chaotic emotions.

         "He'll die in due time, but you shouldn't ruin your life."

         "What if I decide it's his time to die anyway?" Her grip on the sword tightened.

         "You see, that's why so many dragons die. I can divert you temporarily or try to convince you not to kill him, but I can't stop you anymore than I can stop all the other dragon-slayers from killing their prey." George moved closer to her. "A dead dragon-slayer will not solve anything."

         She relaxed her grip on the sword, the tip lowered. "You're right." She faced the angel. "If I killed him, it would only provoke others to arise and take his place in greater numbers. I let my emotions get the better of me." She shuddered at what she had almost done. Her heart welled up for Christopher. "I'll not kill him, he's my only love born from my only hate."

         George peered into her eyes. "You should be all right now." George vanished and the room darkened until her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight.

         She examined the sword in her hand and then Christopher. He wouldn't be able to slay dragons without his sword. Even if he bought a new one, he wouldn't be comfortable going to the dragon's cave with an untried weapon. Superstitions about such things abounded with knights.

         With sword in hand, she slipped into the cool night air. Cricket-chirps filled the forest along with an occasional hoot from an owl. The moonlight lit the trail back to her cave.

 

         A warm sun hung on the horizon. The crisp morning smelled of daffodils. The trees bordering the yard rustled in the gentle breeze. Christopher knew he would win a unique victory today; he felt it in his bones.

         He swung his sword in patterns his teachers had taught him. Sleepiness disappeared and blood flowed in his veins. The time to face the dragon in battle drew near.

         He halted his practice when Salome appeared over the hill. She had a bounce in her step and a smile on her lips. But by the time she reached him, she wore a frown and wrinkled brow.

         "Ah, my dear Salome, there you are."

         "Hi." She stared at the sword in his hand. "Your sword seems different than the one you had yesterday, isn't it?"

         "I did clean it last night for the coming fight." He turned it over in his hand. "However, I keep a practice sword by my bed for protection. When I awoke this morning, I found an empty sheath. I don't recall having used it lately. Did you see it when you left this morning?"

         "Practice sword?" Her eyes widened.

         "Yes, this one I've taken into every dragon battle and it has never failed me. Without it, I wouldn't dare attack the dragon." Christopher jabbed the weapon into the air. "With my faithful sword that dragon doesn't stand a chance. Heat up the kettle, ‘cause tonight we'll feast on dragon stew!"

         Her face burned red. "Sure, a new sword will stop you, but not the killing of innocent life."

         Christopher groaned. "Do we have to rehash that again?"

         "Oh no, let's not bother with stupid things like reason and kindness. Just kill, kill, kill!" She turned and stomped up the hill.

         "Where are you going?" Christopher wondered at the sudden changes. She reacted like an unpredictable beast. Your best friend one moment and biting your head off the next.

         "I just remembered something I need to do. I'll see you later," she said without turning around.

         He figured a little levity might calm her down.

         "Until we meet again. Separation is such a bright sadness!" He swung one arm into the air and placed the other on his chest. She still didn't turn around.

         Christopher shrugged his shoulders. He'd have to deal with her later. The coming fight with the dragon demanded his attention. He swung his sword in an arc but lost his grip. It sailed through the air and embedded in an oak.

         "Hum, at least I've struck fear into the trees."

         Christopher peered into the clearing. The cave opening burrowed into a two-hundred-foot barren hill. Tuffs of grass dotted the otherwise dirt and rock floor. The afternoon sun heated Christopher's armor. The smell of pungent sweat filled the cramped suit.

         "Argu, O Argu, where are you Argu?" Christopher whispered as he tiptoed toward the entrance to the cave. He listened for the crack of twigs and the crunch of dry leaves as he scanned the area.

         "Christopher." A voice from behind startled him.

         Christopher slipped as he turned and crashed to the ground in a heap. He saw Salome over him. "So much for surprising the dragon." He banged his fist on the ground. "What are you doing here, Salome?"

         "I'm waiting to find out myself." She seemed to hold back a laugh.

         He reached out for her hand and she helped him back to his feet as his armor clanked and rattled. Christopher wondered why the dragon hadn't stirred from his lair.

         "You should go back to the village. You could get hurt here," he said.

         "Tell me about it. You're the one intending to do the hurting."

         "When are you going to drop that argument?" He felt like a weight had fallen on him. "You're distracting me. Go back to the house and wait for me."

         "I'm waiting for someone."

         "Who? The dragon? Are you friends with the dragon? Is that why you're against me killing him?"

         "You could say—"

         "Salome, I see everything's going according to my plan." Dante appeared from behind a tree.

         "You know this man?"

         "Only for a few days." She faced Dante. "Whether your plan will work remains to be seen, wizard."

         "He's here now. We can conduct the marriage."

         "Marriage!" Christopher jerked his head toward the wizard.

         "Yes, you heard right." Dante nodded.

         "Are you crazy? The dragon could dash out and eat us alive while we kiss. Besides, you're not a minister, you're a wizard."

         "Though this appears crazy, I have a logical plan. Now let's begin." Dante pulled a book from under his cloak and flipped through pages.

         He rubbed the crease open and read, "Gather together an eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, tongue of dog—oh, I'm sorry. This spell turns handsome princes into toads. Oh dear, that was close." He flipped through more pages.

         "But that's not a spell," Salome said.

         Dante ignored her.

         "Look, Mr. Wizard, I don't think this is a good time for a wedding." Christopher glanced at the cave.

         "Don't worry about the dragon. I guarantee you she'll not be appearing." Dante's head popped up. He smiled. "At least not till we're done."

         Christopher opened his mouth but paused. "Well, if you say so." Christopher faced Salome. "I planned on marrying you after finishing this job. Since the dragon's not here, I suppose we can tie the knot now."

         Salome didn't say anything but only nodded with a weak smile. He thought she seemed nervous, but who wouldn't be before a marriage.

         "Very well," Dante said, "let's get this underway. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God—" He glanced at the sky. "And man, to join together this man and this dra—I mean, woman in holy matrimony. Do you promise to hold each other in sickness and in health, yada, yada, yada? Of course you do. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

         Christopher wrapped Salome in his arms and kissed her with joy. Then she changed. His arms could no longer hold her. Her skin sprouted rough scales. Instead of soft lips, he felt hard teeth. Christopher stumbled back.

         In place of the beautiful woman, a dragon stood before him, the very one he planned to kill. "What devilry is this? Where is Salome? Did you eat her?"

         "Christopher, my love." Argu's gruff voice vibrated him. "I am your wife. I am, or was, Salome."

         "No, this cannot be." He stepped back to steady himself against a tree.

         "It is her, I assure you Christopher," Dante said, "I cast a spell on the dragon, turning her into a woman and gave her a love potion to seduce you. She has succeeded very well. Now she's your wife, therefore you cannot kill her." Dante stuffed the book into his cloak and prepared to leave.

         Christopher fixed his eyes on the dragon, then on the wizard, and back again on the dragon. "No, I cannot accept this."

         "Love should look with the mind, not the eyes," Argu said with a grin, "I'm sure we can obtain a very big bed for the cave."

         Christopher narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "I'll have none of it. If a wizard can conduct a marriage, then a knight can execute a divorce." Christopher unsheathed his sword and charged.

         Argu leapt and a gust of wind pushed against Christopher with the beat of her wings. He launched into the air. His sword tip only touched her scales as she rose. He crashed upon a rock formation, armor banging together.

         "I told you this wouldn't work!" she said to Dante.

         Dante pulled his hood tight over his head. "Oh my, oh dear, what went wrong with my plan? Ricky and Lucy never had fights like this. I don't understand."

         Argu circled high into the sky and dove to the forest opening. "If you'll not leave me alone, even as your wife, I've no choice but to kill you, dragon-slayer." Argu flew low over the clearing and exhaled a trail of fire-breath.

         Christopher flung himself out of the fire's path and into the cave entrance. He watched Argu climb for another pass. Christopher sheathed his sword and climbed the hill.

         "Crazy fool," Argu said, "you cannot easily dodge my fire while climbing the side of a hill in a suit of armor."

         She swooped to the ground; dust billowed under her. She raced up the side of the hill toward Christopher and exhaled a stream of fire.

         Christopher jumped backwards from the hill. The rear and legs of his armor grew hot as Argu flew under him. He grabbed her neck and landed on her back with a loud grunt.

         "Wow," Dante said, "Impressive!"

         Christopher squeezed tight around Argu's neck. Wind rushed through his helmet. She flew high, dove to the ground, careened through turns and spun upside down. He barely kept his grip; his arms ached.

         Two minutes seemed forever. But Christopher sensed the dragon weakening. He pried his right arm from around the dragon, drew his sword and placed it under her neck.

         "Off with your head!" His muscles tightened and he pulled up, but his sword only found air. He discovered his legs now straddled Salome's back; she had changed back to a woman.

         Without the advantage of wings, they both plummeted to the soil. Grunts and screams poured forth as they slammed into the ground. Flying sections of armor rattled and a wall of dust arose. They rolled for several yards until they crashed into the trunk of an oak tree.

         Christopher arose and gritted his teeth against the pain. He picked up his sword from the ground and limped toward Salome. The love potion had worn off.

         "You wouldn't kill your own wife would you?" She begged with her eyes.

         He refused to melt. "You may be my wife, but you're not a woman. I cannot be married to a dragon." He prepared to drive the sword through her heart.

         "Dante, do something! Why did you change me back?"

         "It wasn't me. There must be something wrong with this spell. Oh dear."

         "No." A voice echoed from the other side of the clearing. "Dante didn't change her, I did." An angelic light grew in the clearing until a man in white robes stood before them.

         "Who are you? An angel of some kind?" Christopher said.

         "My name's George. I'm this dragon's guardian angel."

         "This dragon has a guardian angel? No wonder I'm unable to slay him." Christopher glanced at Salome. "I mean, her."

         "There's your guardian, Christopher." George pointed to Dante.

         "A wizard is my guardian angel?" Christopher wrinkled his brow. "What happened? Does God now barter the job of guardian angel to mercenaries?"

         George waved his hand toward Dante. The black cloak turned to white robes; the hood melted into silver hair and light dissolved the dark appearance.

         "Eh, hi Christopher," Earl said.

         "You're working for him!" Salome's eyes burned toward Earl. "If I had my dragon-breath now—"

         "What kind of guardian angel are you?" Christopher said, "You married me to a dragon. What were you thinking?"

         "I thought you would both live happily ever after. Love stories always end happily." Earl displayed a sheepish smile.

         "You've been watching too much television," George said.

         "Television?" Christopher stared at George. "Whatever your television said, it doesn't change what I must do." Christopher turned back to face Salome. She cowered in fear against the tree as Christopher raised the sword.

         "Hold on, Christopher," George said, "She can never go back to being a dragon. I permanently changed her to this form."

         Christopher remained fixed on his prey. His sword hovered in the air. He moved his hand toward her, but an invisible force pushed back. He tried again but could not bring the sword's tip more than a quarter inch from her heart.

         "Stop preventing me from killing her!" Christopher said.

         "We're doing nothing to stop you," George said, "You can't kill her because you love her."

         Such a thought hadn't crossed his mind. Christopher dug into his heart. He tore through the hate of dragons, through the fear of death, through the prestige of his position as dragon-slayer, down into the core of his being and the beat of his heart. There he found true love aflame for Salome.

         Christopher felt his determination softened to compassion and then to love. A love concocted not by spell or potion, but a love born from a person he cared about rather than a beast to kill. He lowered the sword and slumped against the tree next to her.

         Relief beamed on Salome's face. She hugged the battered knight and he responded by drawing her into his arms and kissing her forehead.

         Salome settled her eyes on Christopher. "When I agreed to this deception, I hated you. Yet, you won my heart for who you are. If you'll have me, I could think of nothing I desire more than to live my life with you."

         "The angel spoke the truth. I do love you." He held her tighter. "Even though this means my dragon-slaying days are over, I have no choice. I can do nothing else but be your husband."

         She responded by hugging back. Joy radiated from her face. "Real love flows over sharp rocks before it meanders into pleasant lakes. So our love has flowed."

         Christopher smiled. Then his eyes widened. "My grandfather forges metal. He could teach me to forge swords."

         "So people can go out and kill more dragons?"

         "People use swords to kill people more than they do dragons."

         "Oh. Then I'm okay with it."

         Christopher hugged Salome. "Come, let's return to my house. I'll tell Mom, ‘Look, I went to slay a dragon and I came back married to one.'" They both laughed as they arose. Salome supported the knight as he limped home.

         Earl watched as Christopher and Salome hobbled out of sight.

         "Now see, George, it all worked out just like I planned. They're happy and both still alive."

         "What a piece of work this angel is." George gazed at the sky and shook his head.

         "What?"

         "You really think they're going to live happily ever after?"

         "Sure, all's well that ends well."

         George turned to face Earl, a smirk on his face. "Just wait till you see their children."

 

        

Once you have tired of trying to find all twenty-one Shakespearian quotes, you can use the Shakespeare-Dragon Stew Key at < www.copple.us/DS-ShakespeareKey.html > to see how many you found and which you missed.

 

 

Copyright 2006, R. L. Copple

R. L. Copple is a father to three children and a husband since 1982 to his wife, Lenita. He earned a B.A. in religion from Southern Nazarene University in 1984, has served as a pastor, and written on many religious topics on a small scale, including his own web site for Christian Orthodox questions and issues. Having a lifelong interest in fiction, it was 2005 that he focused on writing stories to capture the imagination, beginning with writing a YA sci-fi adventure novel, which is still in the editing process.