Clouds and Curses

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Dragons once dwelled within the vivid panel paintings that snaked the halls of the dragon monastery, guarded zealously by Lina’s people. Dragons once danced through the songs that were sung on the Summer Solstice and flew brazenly on the banners that were posted in the village. Dragons were once revered spiritual guardians, symbols of the longevity and strength of the Empire. The Elders proclaimed that when dark times approached, dragons would descend from the heavens and grace the children of the Empire with wisdom. As a child, Lina remembered being mildly disappointed hearing that. Times were good then, so the dragons wouldn’t come. She imagined beautiful beasts like the temple depictions, with scales flashing every color of the rainbow and with lion-like manes that flowed like a river. She so badly wanted to see one that she prayed for it each night to the Gods of the Celestial Court, the pantheon of the Empire. After a few months of prayer, Lina’s wish was granted- but she’s regretted it ever since. When real dragons descended on the Valley, the nightmare began. Lina learned that dragons weren’t beautiful at all. The paintings, the songs, and the banners were all lies. The Elders’ prophecy was a lie. Dragons only bring death and destruction.

Rotten eggs. The sulfurous like odor was once unbearable for Lina, but habit and necessity acclimated her. Her arms and cheeks are smeared charcoal black with dragon bone paste, and she resists both the foul smell and the irritating itch it gives. Better to be uncomfortable than dead, she muses. The paste is a dragon hunter’s necessity, masking her scent from the beasts. While dragons could smell the sweat of prey from a mile away, they could never suspect one of their own. It took the Isamu, the senior hunters, two weeks of heating and grinding a dragon femur to reduce the hefty bone to a fine powder. Then the powder was churned with water to form black mud, which was ceaselessly kneaded until it became paste. The paste is a priceless commodity on a hunt, especially on her Proving. When Lina slays the dragon single-handedly, she will complete her Proving and become one of the Isamu. She reminds herself to thank her brothers and sisters-at-arms. Now back to the task at hand. She grimaces.

With a grunt Lina grasps at the ledge above, and her wiry, calloused hands dig firmly into a rough-faced stone. She’s been climbing for three hours, with only her wandering thoughts, the itches, and the whistles of the wind to keep her company. Sweat runs down her brow and she exhales sharply as she heaves herself up. Her elbows scrape at lush moss. Solid ground. Finally. Another breath, another exhale, and she’s on her feet. She pants softly, but her eyes spark with energy. She’s here. The dragon she’s tracking ambushed small survivor outposts in the Valley three times, always flying back in the same direction before the Isamu could arrive. Lina knew instinctively where the dragon flew, since only one place came to mind. The monastery.

She takes in the faded granite steps that lead to a massive pagoda in the distance, the structure’s eaves raising it ever upwards, towards a pointed roof that stabs into the heavens like a lance. How many years has it been? She wonders nostalgically. Lina has never seen the pagoda from this angle, but it was a familiar sight. Every Summer Solstice the people of the village would walk leisurely from the Valley to the monastery, through a lantern lit mountain pass nestled between walls of dancing willow reeds. She remembers her parents’ bright smiles as they walked her hand in hand, and Lina’s face hardens. Now her parents were gone and the mountain pass was charred rubble - the willow reeds and lanterns blasted into oblivion or crushed under a landslide. She couldn’t take the mountain road anymore, but Lina, like the rest of the village, had been born a monk protector- a guardian of the dragon monastery. She knew about the cliff wall behind the pagoda, used by the elder monks to discipline themselves physically and mentally. Her parents told her she would climb it one day, when she was old enough and strong enough to protect the temple grounds. Lina’s nostrils flare at the thought. She’s grown enough now, strong enough now. Not scared and weak like before. She reaches behind her neck, feels the worn, notched handle of her sword and draws it purposefully. The slender, smooth blade glimmers rapturously in the moonlight, as if it is eagerly anticipating the coming battle. Lina smiles grimly. She scaled the mountain, and soon she would scale a dragon.

Without a word she enters a running crouch, soundlessly and effortlessly scaling the steep granite steps. As she draws closer to the pagoda, she spots the heavily chipped tiles of the monastery’s outer wall and skips past the strewn wreckage of a large temple door. A gaping hole stands menacingly amidst rubble ahead of her, where there once stood a towering gateway. Lina slows her pace and cautiously creeps forward. A gust of wind howls out of the hole and the temple walls seem to creak and groan. She sniffs the air and her nose wrinkles in disgust. Though the dragon paste reeks like rotten eggs, this is far worse. Rotten flesh. She’s close. Lina steps through the hole, observes the withered husks where large sakura trees once stood. She remembers the petals that dazzled like pink crystal shards in the sun. She scowls. It was beautiful once. Lina shakes her head. The pagoda entrance is just ahead and she needs her focus.

Without warning, a shiver runs up Lina’s spine and a cold chill seems to seep into her bones. A thick miasma, like a billowing fog creeps out of the pagoda entrance, as if it’s grasping for her. Lina remembers this eerie fog, this unsettling chill. It’s the same as the day the dragons first descended. Cold came first, followed by fire. She clenches her sword tightly to steady herself, and heat rises in her chest. She presses forward, anger propels her steps. She’s ready this time. She will not be denied. With that, Lina brushes through the entrance. She stomps over a hewn portion of a dragon panel painting, her foot crumples the rainbow-scaled, lion-maned illustration. Lina huffs. Lies.

Suddenly her eyes widen. Moonlight seeps through a blasted opening in the roof and basks the floor below in its silver splendor, only to unveil the ruin within. Like a tempest barreled through the interior, splintered wooden frames and torn panel paintings are scattered and shredded about. A grotesque pool of tar-like ooze bubbles and squirms in the shadows, with several opaque, pustule colored spheres jutting outward. Dragon eggs. A flutter of jarred movement catches her attention and Lina crouches down. A scarlet-robed figure is huddled over in the distance, their rounded back towards Lina. The figure grunts and groans, as their lithe arms wrench and struggle to pull some unseen object from the floor. Their hunched shadow stretches and shakes about in the light. Lina spots the spiral dragon emblem that rounds the figure’s back, and her eyes sharpen. She stalks forward now, ready to pounce.

“Blasted thing,” the figure mumbles painfully and their shoulders sag. Now within earshot, Lina bounds, effortlessly closing the gap. Her sword whips forward and its edge nips at the base of the figure’s neck.

“Don’t make a fuss. Don’t turn around,” she whispers tersely. The figure freezes and she sighs. “Now tell me- what is an imperial official doing here?” The figure gulps.

“S-Saving the Empire?” they quip softly. The official’s tone is a jittery mess, but Lina could tell it was a young man, a boy. She had expected a grizzled elder, imperial officials usually were. She recalled the gaudy palanquins that rarely passed through her village as a child. Old men draped in scarlet silk and perched on golden tables. Envoys from the Emperor in the Imperial City. An Emperor who abandoned her people when the nightmare began. Her blood boils and Lina grins, she edges her sword point further into the boy’s skin.

“Want to make more jokes?” she coos.

The boy’s body tenses at the sword’s bite, but suddenly he exhales. “I’m not joking. I can prove it,” he says. This time his tone is firm and clipped. More like a grown man. He’s steadied himself and sounds serious, or at least pretends to be so. If nothing else, his sudden bravado is intriguing, so she decides to play along.

“Prove it then.”

“Alright,” he breathes softly. “But I’ll need to turn around. I don’t want to speak to someone I can’t see. No offense.” Lina takes a moment to ponder. Her eyes examine his back from head to toe. The boy’s frame is slender, his wrists gaunt- he probably hasn’t eaten well recently. His clothes cling loosely, almost haphazardly to his person- the red robes drape partially on the floor. He’s inside a dragon nest and yet lacked the awareness to remain on guard, too engrossed in pulling up whatever is in front of him. He’s undisciplined, careless. Clearly not a warrior. She’d be ready if he tried anything.

“Fine,” she mutters. “Try anything though and your robes will get redder.” He nods and slowly raises his arms. Wordlessly he shambles around, almost tripping over his robes. Then Lina takes him in. Thick black hair pulled back in a bun. High-cheekbones and smooth, rounded cheeks. Wide irises and light grey eyes that gleam silver in the light. If it weren’t for the sickly pallor of his skin and the goofy, awkward grin on his face, he could pass for a male courtesan. Lina scoffs at the thought.

“H-Hello?” He bumbles and waves his hand. Back to being a jittery mess.

"Gods help me," Lina curses under her breath. “How did someone like you even get in here?” she remarks exasperated. He bites his lip.

“Really interesting story, that. I’m Lee of the Imperial Court Scholars and I-" he pauses at Lina’s icy glare. “Sorry. I flew here on my balloon.” Lina had seen such a vessel before. A large wooden basket tethered to a massive balloon, sustained by a hot air mechanism. A trader from the Imperial City visited her village on one such balloon, to market his wares. Before the dragons came. Needless to say, riding a balloon in these parts is suicide.

“The dragons would have blasted you out of the sky,” she states flatly.

“Actually- I brought an incense that I burn on my balloon. The smell calms them. Kind of like the paste on your face I imagine?” Lee shrugs. He’s smarter than he looks, Lina thinks. Though something is still fishy. She steadies her sword point.

“If you could do that, why fly here? What does a scholar of the imperial court want with a dragon nest?” Lee’s face seems to squirm in place, like he’s fighting his thoughts, but he gathers himself again.

Lee sighs. “For this.” He gestures behind him, to the object he was pulling, and Lina’s eyes widen. It was like looking at her reflection on a lake under the full moon. A mirror like orb, emanating a feint, silverly light. It seems to pull Lina's gaze in, as if her eyes could dive past its gleaming surface. “This is a dragon egg,” Lee whispers, breaking her trance. Instinctively Lina’s whole body tenses and she holds her blade aloft, ready to shatter the egg. She can’t believe she had allowed herself to be swallowed by an illusory appearance. She’d seen dragons hatch before. Seen the maggot-like, gray hell-spawn worm their way out of opaque shells, ready to devour anything and everything around them.

“NO!” Lee shouts desperately, his voice echoing through the halls, shattering the relative silence of their conversation. Without hesitation he covers the egg, putting his body between her and it.

“Get out of my way,” Lina growls and moves to shove him. Lee only stares back at her defiantly, his eyes like hot iron.

“This is a true dragon egg. A pure dragon egg. This is the Empire’s last chance.” Lina pauses as she tries to process his words. Dragons only destroy. Dragons only kill. She knows this, she’s lived this- but the resoluteness in Lee’s eyes makes her waver. She shakes her head and scowls.

“Dragons destroy, that is truth," Lina snarls. Lee hugs the egg closely, wraps himself around it.

“Those things that came out of the sky aren’t dragons. At least not anymore. They’ve been blighted. Cursed and corrupted by dark magics.”

“Lies,” Lina almost spits. Blood pumps and roars in her temples, and she tightens her sword grip.

“Not this one. This is truth. This can save our people,” Lee answers firmly, his fierce stare does not waver. Lina feels herself falter again and she bites her lip. Her thoughts race. Could his words be true? Does it matter? Before she can get another thought in, a horrific, unearthly screech breaks through the din. Lee sits up, his hairs stand on end. Lina instinctively tightens her stance, her eyes leave Lee and dart around the pagoda walls. How foolish, she chides herself mentally. She got drawn in by her emotions, forgot her training, forgot her mission. Lee’s shout had likely alerted the beast, wherever it was. All she knew was that it was coming.

“Grab the egg and hide,” she commands, her focus returned. Lee looks startled.

“S-So you believe me?” he asks in confusion.

“No. Argue later. Go, NOW.” A second screech rattles the air, and Lina’s brow lines with sweat. The pagoda walls shake, and Lina’s legs tingle. Lee tugs desperately at the floor, trying to pry the egg off the ground. Lina curses the Gods.

“AIEEEEREEEEEEEEEEEE!” a third ear-piercing screech. Lina’s blood runs cold and she jolts her neck up, towards the pagoda ceiling. She sees it. Smoke heaves out of a pig-like snout. Bulging red eyes, like pools of blood. A coiling, twisting, serpentine mass covered in maggot-like scales and with four eagle-like talons. A gaping maw with rows of teeth like giant pine needles, oozing with fetid digestive juices. This is a dragon. A monster. The dragon half flies, half clambers violently down the interior of the pagoda, ravenous for flesh. At the sight, adrenaline pumps through Lina, and she remembers her goal. Time to scale a dragon. She brandishes her blade, ready for battle.