Child of the Dragon (chapter one)

Chapter One1

Amara didn’t know when her memory started. She had vague recollections of strange and foreign places, but had no idea where they came from. All she knew was the sandy mountains and hills she inhabited with Dao-Sing. Perhaps those recollections were all dreams of an overactive mind.2

Incidents of her childhood stuck out in her mind. When she was four, she had nearly drowned in the lake near their cave. Dao-Sing was out hunting when he heard her screaming. She didn’t remember how she had gotten in the lake, only that Dao-Sing was very upset. He gave her swimming lessons the next day.3

Perhaps her worst memory was two years later, on her sixth birthday. She was walking to Urga’s home when she came across a pear tree. Odd, she had never seen in there before. In her childish curiosity, she climbed the tree (already at that age, she could climb most anything as one had to when they lived among mountains) as attempted to get a pear for Urga. They were so pretty that she couldn’t help it. But the moment before her fingers touched a pear, Dao-Sing swooped down, grapping her by the collar of her tunic with his jaws. He took her back home and exploded. Ranting and raving in mindless anger, he berated her and struck her with his clawed front foot. His talons cut four deep cuts in her, the first starting below her right eye, the second started next to her ear and went down, vertical to the first, then a third starting on her shoulder and the last starting midway down her upper arm. The four diagonal wounds all ended just above her waist.4

Her scream and injuries must have brought Dao-Sing out rage, for he immediately calmed and cradled her in his arms, shushing her fright before taking her to Urga for healing. When the old witch saw the girl’s wounds she instantly knew what had happened. After she dressed Amara’s wounds, her fury had been terrible. She wouldn’t let Amara go home, fearing another attack that would result in permanent injury or death. Amara was only able to get away by sneaking back home in the dead of night, after Urga had too much bala wine.5

Dao-Sing had been most happy with her return, and apologized profusely and warned her to never touch a single fruit on that tree. No one could ever touch it.6

Urga came over the next day to find Amara, but she wouldn’t leave. As much as Dao-Sing had frightened and hurt her, she still loved and trusted him and felt lost without him watching over her. He was her guardian and she could forgive him of anything. Although the scars of his attack were still there eight years later.7

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Amara clambered down the old paths that led down from her cave home, expertly climbing over rocks and in between prickly bushes that lay in her path. The sun was already at its peak and sweat poured down her back beneath the leather sleeveless tunic she wore. The Polavno region was known for its rambling sand colored mountains, covered in shriveled, harsh shrubbery. There were valleys here and there, and in the valleys, villages of humans. Of course, Amara had never seen the villages, she was forbidden to ever go beyond the Ridge; a mountain so long that it was like a wall. Evil humans lived beyond that.9

Amara soon came to the small lake she had almost drowned in as a child. Amara smiled as she reflected on her childhood memories. She had always been a curious child and still hadn’t overcome that. Always exploring, chasing lizards, getting into trouble and then Dao-Sing would have to help her out of whatever hole she had dug herself into. Afterwards she’s always got a long winded lecture from the great red dragon, to which she only half listened.10

She always got in trouble again anyways.11

She walked along the banks of the lake, watching a water snake slither in the shallows. She caught her reflection, a small, lanky, stick of a girl with wild black hair barely tamed by a strip of leather. Her huge, black eyes took in every thing she saw, including the scars on her face and arms. Pale, white scars whose size and color stood prominently out against her tanned skin.12

Amara was not a vain person, but she hated her scars. They reminded her of painful memories, of how dangerous Dao-Sing is. She would rather think about how wonderful he is, always taking care of her, seeing that she had enough to eat, quelling her nightmares. And he told the most wonderful stories. But Amara would never forget Dao-Sing’s attack, as her scars served that purpose.13

Desperate to alleviate the haunting memories that plagued her, Amara picked up a rock and threw it at her reflection, destroying her image in clouds of sand and ripples. The snake she had been watching slithered off in fright. Amara remembered the first lesson Dao-Sing had taught her: to not fear creatures smaller than yourself, for they are more frightened of you than you are of it. Amara felt guilty for a moment for hurting the frightening the snake and whispered apologies.14

“Amara, will you stop dawdling and get your skinny behind over here,” came the old croaking voice of Urga. Amara turned and saw a grey old woman with curved horns, dressed in blue wool standing just outside her cave, hands on her rather large hips. Although she wouldn’t admit it, Amara knew that Urga was jealous of her lanky frame as Urga was rather curvaceous, especially on her seat. “I have a lot of work for you so to and there is no time to sit and watch the grass grow.”15

Amara ran towards the ground level cave, jumping over rocks and bushed in her path, to meet the angry woman. She was panting and out of breath when she got there.16

Urga looked critically at her, as if she were a woven blanket. “Hmm, you’re a bit dirty today; you should take better care of yourself. And isn’t it time your started wearing shoes?”17

Amara rolled her eyes and sighed. This was the usual routine with them. She would come see Urga twice a week to receive her education (or at least learn the things Dao-Sing couldn’t teach her) and it would always begin with Urga criticizing her looks and behavior and Amara would have to counter each of them. Then the lessons would begin.18

“I’m always dirty and my feet are hard enough to go barefoot,” she countered, sitting on her mat by the fire in the center of the snug cave. The walls were covered in wool tapestries depicting the many stories and legends of Kuwanka. Amara’s favorite though, was the map of Kuwanka. When she first saw it, she had no idea how small the Polavno region she liven in was, just a small patch of mountains, surrounded by a forest three times its size. And from there, grass plains, roads, great cities and the Never Ending Ocean. There was an island in the middle of the ocean on the map. Amara had once asked Urga about it and the old witch had visibly shuddered and gone tense, telling her in a terrible voice to never ask about that place again.19

She was later lectured on the dangers of her curiosity.20

Urga humfped and walked in her funny little waddle over to her jars of herbs. “You’re almost a woman now; you should start acting like one.”21

“Why?”22

“Because,” she said a little breathlessly as she was squatting to pick up a rather large jar. Amara knew better than to help her; Urga hated being helped. “Because you are getting older. You’re changing, physically, mentally and emotionally. In a few weeks you’ll be fifteen and at that age, most girl are already married and have a child on the way.” She paused to allow her words to sink in. Urga was right, Amara was changing. Over the past year, her once stick like frame had developed small, soft curves and her skinny legs became a bit more shapely. She had developed a sense of modesty; embarrassed to be naked in front of anyone. She was more prone to extreme mood swings and had been gradually losing interest in old childhood pleasures. And would she ever forget the night she woke up bleeding in her most intimate area thinking she was going to die and having to be calmed down by Urga? Yes, she was changing.23

“I have tried to tell Dao-Sing many times that it is time you came brought into the human world, but he just won’t listen.”24

“Dao-Sing says humans are evil.”25

“Dao-Sing is a stubborn old dragon who holds grudges to the point of insanity.”26

Amara cocked her head. She had always wondered why Dao-Sing hated humans as much as he did. He couldn’t hate all of them, as he had saved her from trolls that had destroyed her village27

There was a silence between them, as if Urga was challenging Amara to ask for the reasons of Dao-Sing’s grudge. But Amara kept her silence, aware that Urga did not give out secrets that weren’t her own.28

“Well, we’ve wasted enough time in idle talk so let’s be on to our lesson. You remember at our last meeting we were discussing how to counteract poisons…”29

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The sun was blood red when Amara headed back home after her lesson, rubbing the tourniquet on her forearm. She had spilt a rather powerful acid in her lesson today, a tribute to her overlong legs and natural clumsiness. She was sure that the burn would leave a lasting scar, and that Dao-Sing was going most definitely going to exchange words with Urga about their lessons. 31

She grabbed a bunch of wild grapes on her way up the mountain she lived in to quell her stomachs pleas for food, knowing it would take awhile for her to cook whatever game Dao-Sing brought back. He was so lucky, being able to digest raw meat.32

Upon reaching the cave near the top of the mountain, Amara was assaulted by a rather large fur ball.33

“Jem, Jem, stop it, I’m going to fall over,” Amara told the fur ball, a curtan named Jem, while laughing as he liked her face. Jem looked at her with his pleading, muddy eyes, his short paws petting her legs. Amara smiled and picked him up, entering the large cave she shared with Dao-Sing. 34

“Dao-Sing, I’m home,” she called out, scanning the main room for him. She heard him before she saw him.35

“Yes child, I heard you come in,” he said in his deep, raspy voice. Amara loved that voice. It sounded like the strength of a thousand swords mixed with the softness of a gentle stream. His beautiful voice made her feel both protected and loved at the same time. 36

Dao-Sing appeared out of one to the tunnels that lead into the heart of the mountain. His great, triangular head appeared, amber eyes flickering in the firelight. Then his long, elegant neck, strong body and legs and finally his powerful tail. He was covered in shining blood red scales, smoother than the lake on a windless day. Over ten feet tall and nearly twice as long, Dao-Sing had to be the most beautiful creature to ever walk in Kuwanka.37

He smiled at her, speaking again in his beautiful voice. “There is supper for you,” pointing at a small badger. “I suggest you cook it before Jem steals it. He’s already tried to once.”38

Amara laughed and gently scolded Jem, setting him down to prepare the badger. She cut of a piece of meat for him and put the rest on the roasting stick, turning it as she informed Dao-Sing of her day. Amara loved the evenings. This was on routine she would never tire of. Coming home, telling Dao-Sing of her lessons, then listening to the wonderful stories he told as she ate. Amara was willing to admit it: she was a creature of habit and greatly upset by huge changes. After all, she had grown up in a relatively unchanging world, never meeting new people. Urga always said she was a walking paradox, with her insatiable curiosity and abhorrence to change.39

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The sun set even further as the shadows became long and night settled, the orange glow of the moon bathing the mountains in eerie light. Jem was chewing on the bones of the badger, his and Amara’s meal long since finished. Amara had curled up next to Dao-Sing’s side, listening to his tale about an elf pirate who fell in love with a mermaid. Amara had heard the tale many times, as it was her favorite. Actually, she had only heard the whole tale once, and as it ended tragically, Amara had no wish to hear the end again. Dao-Sing always told this story right before she went to sleep, so she would be fast asleep when the end came. As it was, her eyelids were drooping and she was nodding off to sleep. Soon, she fell into oblivion, dreaming of mermaids dancing with badgers and a great red dragon falling onto a black, foreboding island somewhere in the middle of the ocean.41