Gilbert Guttlebocker,

Defender of Dragons

10. Brother Barkley

Should be fully functional now,” Archibald announced. “We should be as safe here as we can be. From dragons, at least.”

Gilbert smiled. “Just in time. We need to get downstairs to orientation.”

Fear passed over Archibald's face.

“Maybe if we stick together, we'll be okay,” Gilbert offered hopefully.

“We don't have any weapons, Gilbert.”

“They'll give us weapons at the orientation.”

“I know that, but we have no training yet. At least, I certainly have no training yet — I don't know about you.”

Gilbert shrugged.

“But even if we do get weapons there, and even if we somehow knew how to use them, we still have to get there safely and survive the whole meeting. I'm sure all the dragons on staff will be there. And Barkley too. And who knows what else.”

Gilbert looked down at the floor, disheartened. “This is... why we came here,” he mumbled.

Archibald stared at the contraption he had just completed, wishing he could bring it with him. “It's too bad this thing is so unstable. I could change the radius and just carry it around everywhere.”

“It wouldn't protect you from Barkley,” Gilbert pointed out.

“Barkley. If that kid had half a brain I could easily out-think him. But since he has no brain it's impossible to figure out what he might try to do.”

Gilbert giggled.

“Okay,” Archibald said, suddenly self-assured, almost leaping from his chair. “Let's go.”

But Gilbert just stared at his roommate, puzzled at the sudden change in his attitude. Archibald, heading confidently toward the door, realized Gilbert was standing still, confused.

“Well, I just realized that I can probably out-think everyone in this academy if it comes down to it. Dragons included.”

But Gilbert didn't look so sure.

“I bet you could too, present company excluded,” Archibald told him, smirking. He turned toward the door and opened it.

Gilbert shook his head and chuckled. “You haven't met Yiiri yet,” he mumbled.

“What was that?” Archibald asked, turning back around.

“Nothing,” Gilbert told him, thinking better of his comment. “Nothing.”

“After you, sir,” Archibald offered, holding the door for his roommate.

Gilbert stepped through the door and into the hallway as a flood of other students passed by, headed for the stairs. Archibald followed.

The two boys walked quickly down the hallway, descending the stone steps. Surrounded by other boys they had not yet met, Gilbert wished he had an opportunity to talk with them all. Archibald, on the other hand, wished they would all disappear.

On the first floor, the flow of boys was joined by a trickle of girls from their dorm rooms, the stream of students growing into a river.

“Perfect,” Archibald muttered cynically. “They're herding us all to the butchering room. I couldn't come up with a better dragon-feeding plan than this if you paid me.”

Nevertheless, he and Gilbert continued down the hall with the masses of boys and girls until they came to a vast, open doorway along the interior wall of the circular building. The flood passed through this archway, and Gilbert and Archibald were carried through it, along with all of the other students.

They found themselves inside an immense, round open area in the center of the building, folding chairs spread out evenly across the dirt ground. The diameter of a football field, it was encircled by arched stone walls along the ground floor, with stone seating on the second floor and the third floor, all the way up to the top of the building.

They discovered they were in the center of a great coliseum.

Archibald passed by the green dragon Doop as the boys entered the arena. “At least it won't be lions that rip us to pieces,” he quipped.

But then he stopped short, his heart skipping a beat.

Gilbert had continued walking with the other students but realized immediately that Archibald was no longer with him. He too stopped and turned, finding his roommate just a few steps back, other students pouring around him on either side. Totally pale, mouth gaping, Archibald stood immobile amidst the flood, staring fearfully at something above the wall on the far side of the coliseum.

Following the other boy's gaze, Gilbert looked across the gigantic circle, above the wall, and toward the stone seating on the second floor that overlooked the arena.

Two massive red wings flexed and stretched, reaching almost to the top of the building. A long, spiked, scaly red tail curled over the railing, flitting this way and that absent-mindedly. Smoldering, cavernous nostrils displayed blackened voids of deadly heat, below which, white, pointed fangs rose and fell in a jagged array like the electrocardiograph readout of a terrified patient. And behind the smoke that rose in wicked curls from the monster's nose, two glowing red eyes welcomed everyone in the coliseum as a crypt welcomes a corpse.

Both boys stood, unable to move, staring at Yiiri.

Snapping himself out of it, Gilbert leapt toward Archibald, grabbing the boy's dangling arm. “Come on — don't draw attention to yourself. Let's find some seats.”

Archibald quickly ducked his head, following Gilbert through the crowds to a couple of empty seats towards the back.

“Meet Yiiri,” Gilbert whispered ominously after the two had taken their seats.

Archibald couldn't help but stare at the terrifying creature. “I can't believe we're still alive,” he muttered. “That thing could toast us all in a heartbeat.”

Pulling out his inhaler, Archibald gave himself a spray of corticosteroids to help him breathe.

The monster pulled in its wings and slowly surveyed its empire. The boys stared at their headmaster, transfixed, too terrified to look away. Several other scaly creatures of various sizes filed in on either side of the ancient Yiiri.

“Oh, let's sit over here with Gilbert!”

Bernice suddenly plopped herself down in the empty chair beside Gilbert, Dolores following, sitting on Bernice's other side. The older girl kept her head down and her phone out, continuously pecking away at it with her thumbs.

Almost every chair was now filled, and the crowd was beginning to quiet down.

“I was looking all over for you, Gilbert,” Bernice whispered. “I assumed you'd come by our room to pick us up and make certain we arrived at the orientation safely, but you never showed up. We finally had to leave, or we would have been late. Would it have been so hard to stop by? Surely you passed right by us on your way.”

Only vaguely paying attention to the girl, his eyes still focused on the fiery red beast atop the far side of the building, Gilbert offered a conciliatory, “Sorry.”

“Oh honey, it's no problem. I know you don't always remember things so well. But that's the reason you love me, isn't it? Because my memory is as close to perfect as anyone you know! I'm always here to correct you. Fifty years from now, you can still count on me to point out everything you forget! Won't it be grand?”

The monster moved forward, closer to the rail, closer to the field, closer to the students. He lowered his head, clearly preparing to take some kind of action.

Gilbert and Archibald each held their breath. Neither of them noticed Barkley sit down next to Archibald.

“Look at you goons,” he breathed.

Archibald jerked his head to the side, only now realizing who had sat beside him. Gilbert was still unaware.

“Welcome, students,” the great dragon hissed.

“Oooooh, I'm so excited!” Bernice whispered. “On Monday classes will start and we'll all be learning new things and becoming better people and enjoying everyone's company, and we'll have so much fun work to do that we won't have any time to be bored, and I hate being bored, so that will be lots of fun. Usually, when I'm bored, I just talk to whoever is around…”

“You are about to begin…”

“...but sometimes I just run out of things to say — does that ever happen to you? And then real boredom kicks in, and that's just the worst because instead of talking about important things I have to just go on and on about things that no one cares about…”

“...one of the most important phases…”

“...but fortunately, that doesn't happen very often because I have so many important things to say to virtually everyone I know and my mind generally just keeps on going, a million miles an hour, and I almost always have something to share with someone…”

“...of your very young lives.”

“Bernice?” Gilbert whispered. “Please stop talking.”

Bernice stared at Gilbert, stunned. Then she crossed her arms, an offended look on her face, and pointed her eyes toward the ancient dragon.

“In years long past, it became apparent that your ancestors were doing very little to prevent the terrible scourge of monstrous dragons that had infected the land.” As Yiiri breathed, smoke poured from his nostrils.

“Your knights had become lazy, self-indulgent, and cowardly. Seeing the terrible danger facing this planet, we built this school — the only one of its kind — to train noble young men to become fine swordsmen and archers, to transform the fearful into the courageous, to provide the kind of training that every dragon-slaying knight should have.”

A few excited whoops and cheers emerged from the crowd.

“As long as this academy stands, the great dragon scourge will be kept in check! As long as this academy stands, fair maidens will feel safe in their homes! As long as this academy stands, your young men will be brave, your lands will be free, and your fathers will live to see their great, great-grandchildren!”

The entire crowd were on their feet, clapping and cheering.

The great red dragon stretched out his enormous wings. With two beats of the air, he had lifted himself above the coliseum. He paused in the air, wings extended, observing the crowd below, and then, with another powerful thrust of his wings, Yiiri soared over the crowd in the coliseum, disappearing over the rear wall.

While virtually all of the students were jumping up and down, Gilbert and Archibald cowered in their seats. On the other hand, Barkley sat relaxed, absent-mindedly twirling his sword, its tip resting on the ground, the hilt directly above it vertically as he spun the weapon like a top.

A second dragon, also winged, significantly smaller than Yiiri, more orange in color, wearing a set of spectacles on its nose, moved to the fore.

“Children,” he began, steam rising from his nose, “you've each already been assigned to your rooms. The doors will only open to your touch or that of your roommate. Classrooms will be open to any of you during regular school hours and also to any of the staff. After hours, though, we keep all of the classrooms locked. Now, allow me to introduce your dorm dragons. Ladies, the dorm dragon for the first floor is the lovely Cassiopeia.”

A turquoise, wingless dragon, bearing a striking similarity to Doop, stepped forward. Her long neck was clad with several hundred gold rings, and the nails on all four of her elephantesque feet were painted a shiny purple. She gave the crowd a disarmingly friendly smile, and Gilbert was quite confident she could never hurt anyone.

“For those of you on the second floor, I give you Cassiopeia's twin brother, Doop.”

Doop lumbered forward and raised one of his four gigantic feet, a token wave to the crowd of students. Gilbert, immediately feeling far more comfortable, actually smiled.

“On the third floor, Dromaeo.”

A small creature leapt forward, standing on two legs and without wings. His clawed feet were proportionally the size of a rabbit's, large compared to his small, clawed hands. A wicked smile displayed long rows of razor-sharp teeth, and Gilbert was suddenly relieved that his room was on the second floor instead of the third.

Twenty-one different dragons were introduced, some enormous like Yiiri, Doop, and Cassiopeia, and some about the same size as an average person, as Dromaeo was. Gilbert found some to be terrifying, yet others he found to be genial and almost certainly harmless. Some of the dragons had wings, while others were grounded. Some breathed fire, as evidenced by the smoke that billowed continuously from their noses and mouths, but others seemed to be the kind of non-smoking dragon that would not incinerate anyone.

Archibald too found an unexpected diversity amongst the leaders of the academy. But for Archibald, the difference spanned ground from the scary to the petrifying, along with everything in-between. He had been uncomfortable enough around Doop. Encountering Yiiri was certain to give him nightmares for weeks.

Once the last dragon had been introduced, the orange, spectacled speaker shuffled some papers in his long, clawed fingers.

“My name, for those of you who have not yet met me, is Pedagogus. I am one of the Chivalry professors for first-year students. Many of you children who are new here today will be seeing quite a bit of me over the next year.”

“I ain't no child, grandpa,” Barkley breathed.

Archibald turned his head slightly to see the expression on the large boy's face, taking care not to be noticed by him.

“Classes begin on Monday at exactly seven o'clock in the morning. Do not be late. Keep in mind that weapons are not permitted in the classrooms. You will need them in the arena here, but never in the classrooms.”

Pedagogus surveyed the students seated throughout the open-air arena, as if judging the worth of those he would be dedicating so much of his time to.

Gesturing behind the students with a long, sharp claw, he continued, “Now, each of you, please proceed to the rear of the arena to receive your weapons and rolling pins, your class schedules, and also to get an entry badge that will allow you to enter and exit the academy with ease. If you should ever find yourself outside, needing to come in, simply display your badge to the sentries on duty, and they will allow you to enter the building.”

Slowly the crowd rose, chatter growing as students began conversations with new friends. Some quickly headed to the tables where they would find their badges and other school paraphernalia, while others took their time, getting to know one another first.

Barkley jumped to his feet. “I'm getting my weapons,” he said, hefting the sword he already coveted off the ground. He tore off to the tables as quickly as he could.

“Why did he sit here?” Archibald asked. “I thought he hated us.”

“No idea,” Gilbert agreed.

“Why would you think he hates you?” Bernice asked, as Dolores, thumbing her phone, also quietly disappeared in the direction of the tables.

“He attacked Gilbert in the stairwell,” Archibald explained.

“Ran right up and shoved me into the wall. Held his sword out like he was going to kill me. And he keeps calling me names. Mean names.”

“My brothers always called me mean names,” Bernice offered helpfully. Then, suddenly, it was as though a light came on in her head. She asked excitedly, “Is Barkley your brother?”

“My… no!” Gilbert insisted. “I… I don't have any siblings at all. Certainly not Barkley.”

“I didn't say he was your sibling; I said he was your brother, silly! Now, just because our brothers beat up on us, that doesn't mean they don't love us. Mother has told me that over and over again, so I know it's true. Believe me, I know what it's like to have brothers who beat up on you. I have twelve older brothers, and all of them picked on me all the time and called me all kinds of names, like blabbermouth and windbag and chatterbox and motormouth…”

Archibald closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head.

“Barkley isn't my brother,” Gilbert insisted.

“Oh, I know how it feels sometimes, and you just want to tell yourself that you're an only child, but living in a world of imagination doesn't actually change the world we really live in. Saying he isn't your brother won't fix the problems between you. In fact, that may even be how they started.”

“What…?” Gilbert asked, puzzled.

“I think you should go to Barkley and apologize,” Bernice suggested. “Put the whole thing behind you and move forward, like good brothers should.”

“Apologize for what? And… he isn't my brother!” Gilbert shouted.

“Calm down, Gilbert sweetie. Getting upset won't make the problems with your brother go away.”

“But he's…”

Archibald grabbed Gilbert's arm. “Let's go get our stuff and get out of here.”

“But I…” Gilbert argued, tugging against his roommate's grasp.

“Bernice, it looks like the girls are supposed to go to that table on the right side. And we'll head over to the left,” Archibald insisted.

Realizing his friend was doing him a favor, Gilbert stopped fighting and reluctantly followed the other boy toward the tables.

“My brother — can you believe that? Barkley, of all people,” Gilbert fumed.

“We need to get our weapons,” Archibald insisted.

As they approached the table, Barkley was leaving. The boy's new name badge hung on a lanyard around his neck. His class schedule was stuffed into a pocket and stuck out behind him awkwardly. Multiple sets of brass knuckles wrapped around the fingers of his left hand, which somehow still managed to hold three knives, five throwing stars, and a scimitar. In his right hand, the boy carried a lance, a Remington Bushmaster, an AK-9, and a Beretta ARX160. Over his shoulder hung several loaded ammunition belts, two katanas, a rondache, and an M9A1 Rocket Launcher. On his hips were pistols, more swords, knives, nunchucks, and a Nerf Blaster.

With a solid metal armet now covering his head, Barkley didn't notice Gilbert or Archibald. They stared at him as he left the arena.

Immediately following him, Dolores walked by, one hand holding her phone, her thumb tapping away, the other hand holding a rolling pin.