Motherheart Dragon Priest

Chapter 1b - Dragon Feast

Desert Stillness squatted over the tracks and puzzled at them. “Booted devils eh Leaner,” he said to his stripedback who snuffled at the scent trail distractedly. Leaner was very wary of strangers and would disappear into the surrounding scrub if he didn't like whoever Desert was talking to, then return when all was quiet.

Desert stood and looked in the direction of where the tracks led. They were booted foreigners who cared not where they trod and had no local guide with them. He looked skyward to assess the sun’s position and how much light was left for the afternoon. He had wanted to make camp at his favourite hillside campsite but this was an unwanted distraction that could not be ignored.

Traders or hunters were not allowed to wander unguided across country. Desert let the song he knew of this part of the land fill his mind and he quietly sang it to himself and Leaner. It told them of the hills and the forests and where the best water was in the dry and which tracks were the driest in the wet.

Where the best place was to spear longtail and where the best goose eggs could be found, where the soil was softest to dig the big yams in the dry and which swamps had the best reednuts after the wet. He listened closely to song as it told him of the hills and the axetooth and shearbeaks and the dragons.

The boot tracks led toward the lowest range of the hill dragons. These were fast and  too small to ride but foreigners often tried to collect their eggs to raise for hunting or to train soldiers against dragon attack. Desert frowned and turned westward to take the steeper trail which would help him get in front of them.

Stillness Desert gained the top of the first hill just before twilight but he could already smell the cooking fires before he saw the campsite across the valley below him. He smiled to himself and whistled in mimicry of the black hawk. The call was returned and he waited for the local warriors to come out of the scrub and come and stand behind him. Together they stood in silence and looked across the valley. They were all dark skinned like him but with black wavy hair unlike his tight red curls.

“Good you come, Stillness Desert. You take back coast, put em boat, go home!”

The oldest of the warriors said in a strong dialect. “Save you spearing?” he replied.

“Hungry dragon not need spear!” said the youngest of the warriors. They all laughed quietly in the gathering darkness. How many times had hunters come ashore unbidden and gone unescorted inland to hunt, only to be hunted.

The locals let the predators feed this way as it kept them wary of people yet capable of taking those who had broken the Law and come inland uninvited. Rarely did such hunters carry the weapons necessary to take down dragons or an ambushing axetooth. Only those who knew how to hunt were successful in the Land of the Mother’s Naked Heart.

“We go eat, you take em boat morning!” directed the elder. Desert smiled to himself, happy to take direction from the local elder. As they walked to their camp Desert heard the older man singing quietly to himself and he recognised a song of dragons. Of telling them not to hunt them on this warm night but to go watch the strangers and keep them from trespassing further into their country.

They rounded a rock outcrop further along the ridge from where Desert had made his way to the vantage point over the valley. Desert knew of the deep water rockhole nearby and was heartened to have this time to spend with an elder and his sons of these foothills.

He saw the longtail haunch and large yams in the coals and their aroma made his mouth water. They leant their spears against the rock wall and sat on dry dirt around the low fire. The elder pointed at the bed of coals and told his middle son to get the food ready for their honoured guest.

So they ate and talked and laughed and told stories and Grand master Stillness Desert of the Temple of the Mother’s Naked Heart; who had walked the halls of the Soong Imperium, who had been a captain in the successful war against the Monqhul and who had returned to his homeland to become a grand master, sat in the dust of the camp fire and felt truly at peace.

He belched his thanks for the food and drew a water bottle from his pack. He passed it around. “Dragonwort, from Motherheart,” The elder slowly drew its bitter pungent aroma into his nostrils and nodded then took a small mouthful and passed the bottle to his eldest son. The elder held the concentrate in his mouth and slowly let it trickle down his throat.

The rest did likewise and slowly savoured the strong flavours and waited for the surge of sensation as it entered the blood. Desert chuckled when the youngest gave up and swallowed too much then coughed and spluttered.

“First time?” asked Desert and the young warrior nodded. They might all be used to chewing pituri but sipping the concentrated extract of Dragonwort as made by the master herbalists of the Temple was a different test altogether. The herb was brewed for hours and slowly simmered down to a thick brown-black liquid. Desert always carried a bottle of it wherever he went and it was most appreciated at gatherings such as these.

He saw the smiles form on their faces as the Dragonwort found its way into their heads. It would make them feel stronger and heal faster than even the great manroot herb that the Jomon and Soong so revered.

The old man leaned across the firelight and said in very precise Katithan.

“You made this yourself didn’t you grand master, it’s just like you are. Dark skinned, simple in appearance but a complex after effect that unites everyone you sit down with,” and the old man laughed. Stillness didn't blink but started laughing with him.

Everyone spoke four or five languages and Desert always spoke in kind to whoever he was addressing. Locals liked to use their own language first as part of their greeting on their country. Desert had forgotten how many dialects he could converse in or at least understand the rudiments of and he was always honest about his knowledge.

If you didn’t know something you sat down and listened and learnt what you could.

All the warriors stopped and turned their heads. Desert heard it as well. Voices raised in the night, fearful and angry at the same time. They stood as one and rushed back along the track to the vantage point over the valley.

The camp was alight and a number of small fires had begun to spread out from it. Desert could see shapes running and moving in the flicker of the fires while smoke began to give the scene that horrible otherworldliness that Desert disliked. Other shapes also moved -- long low ones and then the screams came to them.

It would take them a hand span of moon to get across the valley in the dark, so nobody moved. They watched in horror as dragons surged among the firelight taking whatever they thought edible. More screams and then silence. If anyone was alive they would have climbed a tree and kept silent. Dragons needed a warm night to hunt and could see well enough in the dark but followed their noses even more. The smoke, the cooked food, the human shit, and now the blood and torn bodies would cloud their senses.

Desert and the warriors turned back to their camp to sleep. They would find the survivors in the early dawn when the chill of the day was coldest and the dragons had returned to their nearest lairs. Desert would escort the survivors back to Dragonharbour.

Perhaps after such a choosing by the dragons, the survivors would make excellent workers and servants of the Temple. He would sing them the Song of the Mother during their two day journey back to Dragonharbour. He would start their induction into the Temple in such a fashion, yes that would make the delay in seeing the King worthwhile.