Child of the Dragon - Chapter Five

Chapter Five- A New Life1

The sun rose and set, days upon days went by, and Amara was still with Sophos and Coran. She adjusted to her new life, abandoning her old “barbarian” lifestyle, as Coran called it, for a quiet, domestic life as a peasant girl.2

Indeed that is what Sophos and her son lived on. The morning after she arrived, Amara went out of the dwelling for the first time and found herself amidst something she had only seen in pictures. It was a village. Small, with only a handful of families all living wooden thatch roofed hovels much like Sophos. They formed a circle and in the center was a large corral that enclosed animals called sheep and cows and pigs. Amara found this imprisonment rather crude and barbaric.3

Surrounding the village were flat plains of grain fields, enclosed pastures and fields of other plants that apparently humans ate. Things like potatoes and carrots and turnips. To Amara’s pleasure, there were vast orchards filled with sweet fruits, including pears which she had craved since Dao-Sing had forbidden them to her. 4

But this new found pleasure was crushed when Coran pointed out the tall looming fortress like castle the main road from the village led to.5

“The fruit belongs to the Lord Ketos,” he said in a hushed and fearful tone while pointing out the castle. “None of us are allowed to eat it. We only harvest it for him.”6

“You mean you don’t get any of the fruit?” Amara said shocked. It hardly seemed fair that the villager who worked so hard would get no reward for their labors.7

Coran smiled gently at her, shaking his head. “I see you need to be informed about the way estates work,” he said, but not in the usual patronizing tone he used when she showed her ignorance. Instead, he sounded as if he was truly afraid for her life if she did not receive this vital information.8

“You see Amara, we are peasants; hardworking, poor, slaves to the Lords and Barons that live in comforts in their great fortresses. We till their land, make their food, cook and clean and do everything that requires a bit of effort. In return, we are protected by the lord’s men, we are given homes to live in.”9

“It doesn’t seem like a very good deal to me,” Amara said with confusion mingled with disgust. How could this be possible, this unfair life of toil all for a lethargic baron who lived in comfort? Amara could not, no matter how hard she tried to wrap her mind around it, understand why this was so. “Why do you accept this and do nothing?”10

Coran smiled a twisted grimace laced with bitterness and anger. “Do you see those men on the walls of the castle?” he asked Amara, pointing to the battlements. Squinting, Amara could make out small moving.11

“Those men have spears and swords and crossbows that would kill all of us in the village in at least ten minutes. That is what keeps us as lowly suppliant cattle, fear,” Coran said in a low, serious tone, hollow with resignation.12

The pair fell into silence as the men finished working in the fields. The sun was setting directly behind the castle, the rays of the sun blackening it in shadows and giving it the appearance that it was ablaze. 13

The trod of heavy boots alerted Amara and Coran to the presence of a small band of soldiers coming directly towards them. They hastily rose to their feet, Amara brushing the leaves and grass off her blue dress.14

Amara was about to leave, but Coran’s hand on her arm halted her. She felt a pair of eyes on her; the leader of the soldiers was gazing intently on her.  15

With squinting eyes, Amara scrutinized the leader. He was a burly tanned man, covered in scars, worse and older then the ones that marked herself. His leather tunic and heavy chain armor seemed to be straining due to his ropey muscles that wrapped about his limbs. Lank black hair hung in strings and matted patches that brushed past his shoulders, with a matching beard and moustache covering his face, giving him the appearance of a vicious mountain dog. His face was made of harsh angles and a squashed brow that made his shinning eyes all the more prominent16

It was those eyes that unnerved Amara; yellow eyes that seemed to suck all the light it came across, emitting only a dark sort of shinning. They were trained on Amara, lying mostly on her scarred face with a mix of awe and wariness.17

“Peasant,” he said with a gruff bark, again not dissimilar to that of a mountain dog.18

“Aye, Captain,” Coran said with his eyes averted, meaningly respectful, but actually fearful.19

Amara stared back at him defiantly.20

“My lord has received intelligence that a barbarian hill girl was taken residence in the village a little more than a month ago. It this true?” the captain said, though Amara could tell that he knew full well the answer he sought. It was the only way to explain why his eyes never left her.21

“Aye, this is she,” Coran answered, gesturing to Amara.22

The Captain nodded, meeting Amara’s eyes for the first time. He drew back slightly. Amara did not know what he saw in her eyes, but it was enough to unnerve the man.23

It was something they both had in common.24

“You, girl!” he barked, regaining his composure.25

“Aye,” Amara said, but not in the dull, cow like way Coran had, but with challenge and contempt for this dog of a man.26

His bushy brows became fused together in his barely contained fury. “You are to come with me. The Lord Ketos would like see you.”27

The other soldiers pushed Coran away and into the dirt, forming a tight ring around Amara. However she scanned and assessed, Amara was forced to admit that there was no way to slip loose of this pit of snakes. With her head held high and defiance still present in her eye, Amara went with the surly lot of leather and chain armor clad soldiers.28

She did, however, spare Coran one last glance, and met his fearful eyes with a silent whisper that told him he needn’t fear. She was, after all, a “barbarian hill girl” and a wild dog in a human body was not about to send her crashing. 29

Secretly, she wondered if this feared Lord Ketos would.30

*********************31

“Look sharp, girl,” the captain barked at Amara as they came to the old wooden grill that served as the gate of the castle. It seemed to Amara that the one who built this fortress was lacking in intelligence. All it would take was one flame of fire and the entire gate would become a pile of ashes.32

Amara glared at the captain, masking how nervous his yellow eyes were making her. In retaliation, he growled and pushed her forward with the butt of his spear.33

“Watch yourself girl, Lord Ketos is now as tolerant as myself.”34

“I can only imagine,” Amara muttered, so as her face would not betray how truly frightened she was of her upcoming meeting with this lord.35

The old wooden gate was lifted and Amara was jostled through the great stone archway. Looking up, she saw several holes dotted along its surface, burned scorch marks surrounding the edges. Amara shuddered, wondering the use of the holes. Perhaps the builder of this place was not as daft as Amara assumed.36

Amara began to breathe easier when the came out of the stone archway and into the open courtyard, but even that relief was short lived. While there was nothing over her head and the cheerful blue sky shone with a few cotton clouds, the courtyard was cold. The grass was matted from being trodden on and only a few scraggily bushes grew. But it was the numerous windows gazing out into the courtyard that made Amara tepid. She felt as though there was a pair of eyes gazing out of each, fixed upon her.37

The soldiers left Amara alone with the captain who led Amara by her forearm down dark corridors filled with shadows and an occasional person cloaked in misery. At an almost running pace, the captain pulled her down a much more opulent corridor, better lighted, but much colder. At the end was a huge wooden door, richly carved with scenes of conquest and battle, bloodshed and women carried off. And in the center of it all was the largest scene; a huge dragon, ran through with the spear and sword of an armor clad warrior. The warriors face was painted with an expression of sadistic glee and triumph. Amara shuddered and turned her face away from the gruesome carving.38

The captain rapped sharply on the door, gruffly shouting, “Milord!” He quickly assessed Amara’s appearance, sweeping his eyes all over her form. With lightening speed, he freed her from its confining strip of leather, allowing it to tumble down her shoulders and around her face in midnight black waves. Amara noticed that he made sure her hair covered her scarred cheek. Then, with an ominous creek and ghoulish squeal that sounded to Amara’s ears like one in mortal pain, the horrible doors (for it turned out to be a double door entrance) opened out, cracking the image of the wounded dragon and its slayer in half. What they revealed, though, was hardly better. 39

Amara found herself pushed into a cavernous room, dark and shadowed, but not like the corridors. In the corridors, it had been a kind of sad dark and shadowed atmosphere. This one was evil.40

Amara felt small in this room of stone, with a ceiling so high, Amara could not see it. Blood red hangings adorned the walls, rich gold embroidery adorning it. Huge stone pillars rose and disappeared at the top, serpents twined around each. A fire roared a great inferno in the blackened fireplace, but brought Amara no warmth. For directly above it was something that made Amara’s very soul freeze within her: a severed dragon’s head.41

But it was no ordinary dragon’s head, rather great and majestic, with a proud face and glittering dead amber eyes. Covered in red scales.42

It was the head of Dao-Sing.43

All sound disappeared from Amara’s ears and time stood still to her. There was nothing but the horrible truth of the dead head looming before like a red beacon in the darkness. An emptiness flooded Amara, her blood converting to poison which burned her as deeply as the salt tears which were cascading down her face. She did care if the captain saw her cry; she didn’t care if she appeared weak. She let her utter anguish that could not even begin to be described with words pour from her, though she was never empty of it.44

It was of the utmost injustice and cruelty that her beloved father and deepest confident was now the trophy of some selfish, tyrannical lord who thought himself on the level of the Guardians! Amara felt her insides begin to churn just thinking of the proud Dao-Sing reduced to this level. Any contempt for him that might have hidden in the deepest parts of her after he left was gone and replace by the deepest grief.45

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”46

Amara was jerked out her daze and lifted her tear burned eyes to a man dressed in deep blood red robes. They gave off a rather metallic scent which made Amara believe it was blood that his robes had been dyed with. Bound round his waist was a belt of pure gold, studded with red stones. It angered Amara to see her beloved dragon’s murderer adorned in Dao-Sing’s colors.47

She drew her eyes away from Ketos’ robes and gazed intently into his face, which Urga had told her bore a human’s soul. With a gasp, she recognized it as the same handsome, yet cruel face of the dragon slayer carved on the door.48

He was of a dark beauty, this Ketos; high, elegant cheekbones and a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were a vivid shade of grass green, a color Amara had never seen in any eye. Shoulder-length dark hair crowned his head, falling about his face in a casual, yet alluring way. As for age, Amara thought he could be no more than thirty.49

“Can you not speak?” he asked in a cultured and smooth voice. It was higher than Dao-Sing’s had been, but musically beautiful nonetheless.50

Amara tore her eyes away from the beautiful man before her and back to the dragon’s head, hatred flooding her again and washing away her fascination with him. Looking into the amber eyes, she steeled herself not to give him the satisfaction of answering him.51

“Are you mute girl?” Ketos asked, anger rising. Amara risked a glance at him. Ketos’ face was reddening like a setting sun, taking away from his allure. She used this opportunity to her advantage, face defiant and mocking. She was not going to give Ketos the satisfaction of answers.52

Luck, it seemed, had sided with her, for Amara’s defiance only served to anger Ketos more. Amara’s mouth broke into a smile, albeit it was a fake smile. She would show this murderer she was not one of his peasant cows who bent prostrate at his feet.53

'I am a daughter of the dragon Dao-Sing and I shall not give you the satisfaction of my suppliance.'54

Ketos seemed to have noticed his loss of power and quickly became all handsome smiles and charm again. “Chaun,” he said without his previous anger, although Amara detected a thread of exacerbation and wounded ego.55

The captain, whose presence Amara had forgotten, answered his master. 'Like a dog', Amara thought scathingly.56

“Take this barbarian incendiary to the servants’ quarters. She is too…”Ketos paused, choosing his words carefully. “Too individual to live amongst the peasants.”57

“Aye, milord,” the captain, Chaun, answered.58

Ketos met Amara’s eyes a final time before turning and disappearing into 59

another chamber.60

Amara knew why he did that; the way his smoldering eyes met hers insured that she stayed under the spell of his charm. 'Why must Dao-Sing’s murderer, a destroyer of beauty, posses such enthralling beauty himself?' Amara thought as something primitive inside her stirred with yearning in spite of her deep hatred of Ketos.61

“Come girl,” Chaun said, grasping Amara’s arm, though she noticed his gripped was considerably gentler than before. Perhaps there was a trace of a soul in the calloused captain of Ketos’ guard. And where his eyes shining with a bit of kindness? There was more to Chaun than Amara thought.62

Down the dark corridors and past the ghostly faces, Amara was led again, but this time with a heavier heart. She had never fully believed that Dao-Sing had truly abandoned her. In fact, she had toyed with the idea that he would come and sweep her out of this hell and take her back home. 63

Chaun led her to a long, narrow room of stone. Pallets lined the floor with blankets atop of them.64

“This is where you shall sleep,” Chaun said, showing Amara a fairly unused pallet. She was disappointed to see it had the thinnest blanket. She nodded her understanding to Chaun, remaining mute. She felt him clap her shoulder. Unfamiliar with the gesture, she looked questioningly at Chaun.65

“This is a gesture done for reassurance and a sort of transfer of strength,” he said, demonstrating the shoulder clap again. She smiled weakly, thankful for his caring.66

A silence fell between them, neither knowing what to do.67

“Well, I best get back to my rounds,” Chaun said, once more becoming the cruel military captain Amara now knew he pretended to be. She knew there was something more to him. “The housekeeper Bertha will be here in the morning to assign you your chores. For now, sleep,” and he turned away, retreating out of the cold sleeping room to do whatever it was that captains did.68

Alone, Amara finally crumbled. She collapsed like a falling tree onto her pallet, crying with such force her whole body shook. Never had she felt so lost and small and helpless, alone in this cold room with out a heart, her only flame burned out.69

Eventually, her tears faded into sleep, but not before her night visitor took her into his arms, softly caressing her hair and scars.70