Divided Lands

Chapter 9

The dragon-man looked over his shaking hands with wide eyes. He lifted his gaze to Sho trembling on the other side of the room, and his eyes narrowed into angry, hate filled slits. Every muscle in his body tensed as he crouched and then sprang through the air, landing on Sho and knocking him to the ground. The pain caused by the hard hit rushed across Sho’s skull in waves.

“What the hell did you do, you bastard?” the man roared. He slammed Sho’s head against the wooden floor again and again until he could feel his brain vibrating in his skull. “YOU FIX ME RIGHT NOW OR I’LL…I’LL…”

He ogled Sho for a second, briefly ceasing his banging to take in the priest’s black hair that barely grew past his ears and his bright brown eyes. Shaking his head, the dragon-man let go, dusted himself off, and stood to his feet.

“Alright, you’re not the guy. But if you know a monk with a serious attitude problem, you’d better point me in his direction now.”

Sho struggled to his feet, his head aching and his vision slightly blurred, and held onto the back of his skull with one hand. 

“Are you a dragon?” was all he could manage to say, his wits not exactly being about him at that particular moment. 

“Do I look like a dragon?” the man asked, his arms crossed over his chest and his facial muscles tensed into the ultimate frown.

Sho’s vision began to sharpen, and he looked the man over from the two horns on his temple to the tail wrapping around his naked torso. “…um…almost.”

The dragon man threw his arms in the air and grumbled, “Well, then I guess I’m almost a dragon.”

He paced the floor, his wrists crossed behind his back, and grumbled under his breath. Sho couldn’t hear a word he was saying for sure, but he thought he heard “kill”, “fucking”, and “monk” thrown in a few times.

The man stopped. “So, since you’re not the guy who put me in that egg, I suppose I should thank you for getting me out and apologize for bashing your skull in. I do have one question I’d like answered, though.” 

“What’s that?” Sho grunted. He sat down on his bed and rested his head in his palms.

“Where the hell am I?” the man asked.

Sho sat up straight and motioned for him to sit down in a, “Why the hell not?” sort of way. The dragon-man lowered himself into a sitting position on the bed, taking a few moments to position himself correctly as if he wasn’t entirely sure how the whole sitting thing worked. 

“You’re in Highland City.” Sho said.

“Ah.” The man said. “Year?”

Sho rubbed the back of his head. “1901 years after the divide.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” the dragon-man asked.

“That’s just how we measure time in years around here.” Sho waved his hand. “No one really knows what it means, or at least I don’t think so.”

The man nodded. “What’s your name, kid?”

“My name’s Sho. I’m a priest. Your’s?” Sho asked. He got up, walked over to the mirror and basin in front of his bed, and splashed some water from the pitcher into his face. His eyes were a bit cloudy, but other than that, Sho deduced that he was looked alright.

“Fafnir. People worship me.” The dragon man said, his voice so flat and bored Sho was surprised he didn’t yawn.

“So, you’re like, what, a god?” Sho asked. 

Fafnir grinned. “If that’s what they want to think, hey, more power to them.”

“I still can’t believe you’re even real.” Sho shook his head. He turned to face Fafnir and looked at him, really examined every part of him, and shook his head again—this time faster, as if trying to wake himself up from a dream. “I guess I owe Djordi an apology.”

He cocked his head at Fafnir. “Ugh. You need clothes.”

Sho wheeled around and opened his closet door. He began sifting through the garments hanging up for one that didn’t look too “priestly.”

“You know…” Fafnir began, “…I know enough about humans to figure that you didn’t free me out of the kindness of your heart of some shit like that. What do you want?”

Sho pulled a long green tunic, the one he wore to confessionals that no one really ever saw him in, off of the rack. 

“Help.” He sighed. “I’m not beating around the bush. In fact, I’m sick of beating around the bush.”

He draped the tunic over Fafnir’s lap, still apprehensive about coming too close to the man who had just repeatedly bashed his head into the floor. 

“Ah. With what?” Fafnir lifted up the tunic and looked at it with a wrinkled brow. He had never worn clothes before in his entire life. 

“A dictator.” Sho whispered. His eyes darted to the door as if he expected the Warlord to burst in at any moment and cut off his head. When he didn’t, Sho snatched up the tunic and stuck Fafnir’s head through the neck hole. “Your arms go in the other two holes.”

“Oh, so you want the big bad dragon to fight the scrawny, mean old human, do you?” Fafnir snickered and pulled his arms through the arm holes. He stood to his feet. He was was so much taller than Sho that the hem of the green tunic fell just below his knees and the bottom of the sleeves, just below his elbows. “Where’s the tail hole?”

“There isn’t a tail hole.” Sho said. “And yes. I guess, in a nutshell, that’s it.”

Fafnir rolled his eyes. “Well, there are a few problems with your plan. First of all, what the hell am I supposed to do with my tail?”

“Just…wrap it around your waist or something, I don’t know. I’ve never had a tail.” Sho stammered.

“And second of all…” Fafnir continued, “…I’m not exactly the big bad dragon you were expecting. Also, I have horns.”

Sho bit his lips. “I guess people are just going to have to ignore the horns.”

“They won’t.” Fafnir said.

“But they’re going to have to anyways.” Sho rolled his eyes. 

“And third of all—” Fafnir began.

“Oh, so there’s a third-of-all.” Sho grumbled. He collapsed onto his bed and stared at his stone ceiling. 

“—and third of all, I don’t give a shit about your dictator. I’m actually quite a bit more distraught about no longer being the flying terror I used to be.” Fafnir finished. “I just want the body I was born in and then I’ll probably just burn this Highland City place to a crisp and go sit on a pile of gold somewhere.”

“You’re not serious.” Sho asked.

“That’s how dragons are, kid. You didn’t know that?” Fafnir asked.

Sho rolled over onto his face. “I didn’t even believe in dragons.”

“Hm. Smart kid.” Fafnir smirked.

“Look.” Sho said, his voice muffled by the bed. “If I promise you I can get you back to your normal form, will you promise to help me?”

“I can promise, but will I keep it?” Fafnir snorted. 

Sho slipped out of the bed and stood up facing Fafnir. “Well, I would hope that you would. I can pray.”

“Like you’ve probably been praying for that dictator of yours, eh holy man?” Fafnir smirked. 

Sho sighed. “Yeah, just like that. So do we have a deal?”

“As far as you know we do.” Fafnir rolled his eyes. Ah, the stupidity of religious people. 

“Good!” Sho smiled, his voice enthusiastic enough to make anyone feel guilty. “Now, if we can get to the guy who gave me your egg, I think he’ll know something about how to fix you.”