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Bolivar. I first heard the name when I was a small child. It was burned into my mind and body almost as if it was a brand that covered every part of me. I was a tenth-generation dragon's assistant, which was a fairly boring title for a job that my family took very seriously. The assistant part, at least. The dragon part of it, well, I wasn't even sure that they actually existed beyond the stories my parents had raised me on.
In the last three generations, none of us had ever been called to Bolivar as I was now. He'd sent a letter to me, requesting my aid. I'd grown up on the stories and been trained, but I still had no idea what I, Wesley Adams, a twenty-year-old human, could actually do for him.
Now, with my great-grandfather nearing death just shy of his ninety-eighth birthday, it seemed that it was my turn to be called to duty to replace him. My great-grandfather had already left Bolivar, off to enjoy what remained of his life in his retirement. I had no idea why he'd stayed with Bolivar so long, only that he'd been called when he was about my age and had done the dragon's bidding the whole time. I'd never met my great-grandfather or even heard from him, so to me he was nothing more than a stranger whose place I was taking.
To be called to Bolivar's side was exciting. I was looking forward to serving him, but I was also nervous. What I was most afraid of though was failing. Failing my family, my obligation to them, and also failing Bolivar. Who failed a dragon? Who even got to serve them? No one I'd ever met, that was for sure.
I was never the best in my class at anything and always the last one picked for whatever teams the gym teacher had forced on us. I was small and thin, barely over five feet, and a hundred and ten pounds. I'd been made fun of for how tiny I was most of my life. I looked like a classic stereotypical geek, but I sucked at debate and had no idea how to play chess. I also sucked at chemistry, so if Bolivar wanted me to balance somechemical equations for him we were both out of luck there.
And yet my family, for some reason, thought I was ready to take up the position of honor to go serve this dragon. It was crazy, but I knew I'd do my absolute best to make my family proud of me.
My father came into my room while I was finishing packing up the last of my suitcases. I could only take three suitcases, and by some miracle, nearly everything I owned fit. It wouldn't be my last time in this house, if I wanted to come back. My great-grandfather apparently hadn't chosen to come back to his home, but I wasn't him. I was just going to work, not giving up my life, and I was glad I didn’t have to leave anything I absolutely loved behind. All of my comic book shirts were able to come with me. I had been worried about that.
"Are you almost ready to go? We don't want you to miss your plane. That wouldn't make a very good impression on Bolivar now, would it?"
I quickly shook my head. I had to be on time for my first meeting with him. “I just need to do final checks to make sure I have everything that I’ll need.”
“And you remember everything we’ve taught you? Right?”
I'd never seen my father looking quite so worried before. “I’ll be fine. I promise.” I may have sucked in school, but I'd memorized absolutely everything I could about the dragons, and especially about Bolivar. I knew that he'd been a fierce warrior and he'd once held a grand empire before he'd lost a battle with an even larger dragon, Imrel, sometime in the sixteenth century. The dates were a little fuzzy in the old journals I'd been told to study as a child, but their meaning had been absolutely clear. Bolivar was not a dragon to be taken lightly, and if I failed to impress him there would be dire consequences, beginning with how I'd bring dishonor on myself and my entire family line.According to the journals, Bolivar didn't play with things like that, and I intended to do everything I could in order to win the dragon's respect.
“Why do the dragons need us?”
I definitely did not have time for an impromptu quiz from my father right then. Not when I couldn't remember if I'd already packed my toothbrush or not. “Dragons are territorial and often aggressive. We run errands for them so that they don’t accidentally cross into another dragon’s land without meaning to and set off another round of the dragon wars.” The wars had ended in the eighteenth century, but some dragons still clashed on occasion.
“Yes. And what is Bolivar’s favorite food?”
I knew this, just like I knew everything else about the dragon, instantly. "Chocolate truffles." It was a strange thing for a dragon to enjoy, at least in my mind, when I thought dragons should enjoy whole cows or something, but I wasn't about to start questioning him.
“And what must you never, ever do?”
It was another easy question. “Piss off the dragon.” Because Bolivar would more than likely kill me for that, which would bring dishonor to my family.
My father came forward and gave me a tight hug. “I know you’ll do well. He’s a fair dragon, all of the journals say so. Be good for him and he may send you to college still. Be strong, be humble, don’t be afraid of him. Don’t be stubborn, don’t be reckless, always be on time. Don’t—”
I shook my head. “I know. I’ve studied the same books you did when you were growing up, just like your father did. I’ll be okay. Trust me. I can handle this.” I was terrified, and I had no idea if I could actually do this or not, but right then my father needed to know how strong I was, not how worried I was.
My father gave me one last hug. “Good. The taxi should behere any minute. I’ll help you get your bags downstairs.”
“Thank you.” I forced a smile.
Seven hours later I had landed in Maine. The air was cold and clean, and the taxi Bolivar had hired to come pick me up drove right to a house on the edge of the coast. It was a small ranch house, whereas I had been expecting a large castle, or at least something bigger than the home I'd grown up in. But I checked the address and it was right. I grabbed my suitcases and dragged them to the front door.
I only had to knock once before the door was opened for me. A guy stood there, pale with bright amber eyes and short brown hair. I was barely over five feet, but he was even shorter than me, and he looked only a year or two older than me too.
"Uh. Hi. I'm looking for Bolivar. This is the correct address, right?"
He nodded and stepped back, letting me inside. "I'm Bolivar," he explained when I didn't move.
I didn't believe him for a second. "Uh." I continued to stand on the porch. The taxi was already gone, leaving me there with some guy at the house that was supposed to belong to Bolivar. "No, you're not."
He looked completely unfazed by my disbelief. Bolivar was supposed to be this huge dragon, not some little guy that was barely older than me. "Okay. Suit yourself." He rolled his eyes, and then he left me there as he went inside. He hadn't closed the door, so I watched him go into the living room and sit on the couch.
"So you're Wesley?" he called to me as he started watching something.
"Yeah. I am. When is Bolivar getting back? And who are you?"
He looked at me for a second or two, then went back to watching his show. "I told you. I'm Bolivar. Are you coming in,or not?"
