Writetober 2019

October 12-Dragon

A martial eagle soared over the Nigerian palace, eyeing the movement of guards on the walls and grounds below. After circling the rich gardens once more, he dove for a sturdy tree beside the building. Flaring his wings at the last second, he landed. The brown and white raptor cocked his head this way and that to check on the guards. None paid him any mind.

Satisfied, the avian form hunched forward and traded wings for clawed forelimbs and beak for toothy maw. Where the martial eagle had roosted, now a Nile monitor lizard sprawled along the branch. The sizeable reptile sprinted along the limb towards the open third-floor window. Feathers briefly returned along tail and forelimbs to assist leaping the gap between tree and palace. Sharp nails scrabbled at the windowsill, and he was in.

A forked tongue flicked from a head raised high to scent and survey the room. The study was wreathed in bookshelves. A desk and chair against one wall and a grand armchair and lamp in the center of the room were the only other adornments.

The monitor ogled the bookshelves greedily before pacing towards the desk, sniffing at each drawer in turn. Finding something worthwhile, the brown and ochre yellow lizard backed up and changed again. This time a reedy human youth in worn clothes emerged from the animal form. A few persistent feathers clung to small patches of scales dotting his sun-kissed skin, and piercing yellow eyes that looked natural on eagle or monitor stood out eerily on a human. He silently slid open a drawer, visually checking the door and window every few seconds.

The oddments in the drawer earned a cursory look, but only the tablet with its leather case held his eye. He snatched it and held it in his teeth as he carefully slid the drawer closed again, eyes already scouring the bookshelves. His gaze fixed on one book in particular. Stalking over to the shelf, he tenderly extracted the thin volume from its domineering neighbors. It was a beautifully illustrated guide to Nigerian birds.

The young man smiled and took the tablet from his mouth to stack with the book, setting both on the armchair. He then picked at a knot in the leather cord wrapped around his waist, unwinding it into a length several feet long. He removed the stained bandana from his neck and carefully wrapped book and tablet together. After snuggly tying the bundle with the cord he tested the knots and set it on the carpet near the window.

He cast one last glance about the room and shook. Feathers erupted from skin and consumed clothes as he shrank. He was a brown and white eagle once more. The nearly three-foot-tall bird had little trouble lifting the bundle once he got a good grip on the leather cord. A few noisy first flaps and he was out the window, soaring into the air. Once certain he'd escaped without notice, he winged his way southwest.

Lagos offered the wanderer a favorite refuge. Skimming over the crowded streets of the city, the tired eagle flew for the beach. One of the rock stacks housed a nice hollow he'd used before, and he gratefully huddled down in the pile of cloth strips he'd used to make a nest there. He tucked the bundle high up in a crag to protect it as much as possible from any storm surge or rain and slept like the dead.

The next day the Harmattan winds blew favorably, and he took off without his stolen prize to brave the Gulf of Guinea. It was a long flight back to Atlantis, and it was several days more before he returned, this time by boat. The catamaran anchored far offshore with a UV spotlight to guide him back without alerting any Nigerian vessels. He silently retrieved his treasures from his nest, and shapeshifter and boatman returned home.

The tablet he handed over to the Council who had sent him, and the book...

The shapeshifter walked one of his favorite paths on Atlantis, following the coast to a carefully shaped cove. Here the island's children could play without fear of sharks or large waves or undertow. The cove itself was a masterpiece, but the real reason for his visit was the mass of smiling faces that rushed to greet him. Some of the gap-toothed youngsters called him by his name "Abayomi!" and others by the nickname the islanders had given him, "Dragon!"

He couldn't grasp much else of their speech. Not many of the Atlanteans spoke Arabic, for not many had escaped from those lands to speak it. But there were things you didn't need words to communicate.

One little boy flapped his arms and rawred, making Abayomi laugh. He nodded and motioned the children back. They eagerly complied. This trick was a favorite. He took a deep breath for dramatic effect, then morphed into something half eagle and half monitor that rather did resemble a dragon—if a dragon were only six feet from snout to tail tip. He let out a sound akin to an eagle's cry but deepened by vocal cords not completely avian.

The children squealed with delight, and the adult on watch duty today—an African man with a kind smile and sad eyes—clapped too. After letting the kids pick and pet at his feathers for a few minutes, he returned to human. There were more than a few sounds of disappointment, but he grinned and held up a finger. He withdrew the thin book from his shirt amid gasps.

Now books were a fine treat indeed for the young nation. They didn't yet have a proper printing system, and if they did, it certainly wouldn't waste ink on such vibrant illustrations as this book boasted.

He handed over the paperback and sat against one of the shore rocks. One of the older children who could read the text lay on the sand with the book open before them for the others to see as they read aloud. One little girl promptly sat on his lap, and another settled beside him and played with a few small feathers that remained on his forearm.

He closed his eyes and relaxed, soaking it all in. He was indeed a dragon, and these children and their happiness were his most jealously guarded treasure.