The Dragon Diaries

There weren’t always dragons in the valley, that’s what we say out at the edge of the world, where the desert sands meet a crystal blue sea. We are refugees, existing in a line of shacks on the shore with fabric awnings billowing in the wind. We tell everyone, there weren’t always dragons in the valley. People call us piteous in our attempt to cling to a human history which was wiped out by fire.

The valley we speak of is deep in-land. It’s where the black basalt crumbles away into a monstrous pit at the edge of the Aswad mountains. It was true, the dragons had been gone for 500 years. But, the dragons would say, it doesn’t matter how long we were gone for, we were here long before you.

- An excerpt from ‘A Baptism of Fire: Becoming a Dragon-Age Refugee’ by Guda Badawi.

*

In the Aswad mountains there was a town nestled under the shadow of an enormous volcano which has been dormant for centuries.

The town was called Baseeta. It was an Arabic word which has no English translation. The closest would be the phrase: “I will unleash my revenge on you, when you least expect it.”

It seemed fitting for a town at the base of a volcano. But, the last few remaining humans of today know that the threat of revenge did not come from that monster.

It was the year 19,000 on the planet Sahara. The town of Baseeta had been abandoned for 90 years.

On a hot June night, as the red sun slipped under the horizon, Djamila slipped into the town. She moved down the alleyways in a dark blue cloak which wrapped around her body like midnight enfolding the land. She was barefoot. It was the best way to move through town. The winds had brought down a fresh covering of sand on the streets and it softened every step.

The mountains towering around her were black, the town was black - made from the same slate - all that separated them was the fire which breathed up the walls.

She had a terrible urge to run. I need to run, she thought. But no, she was in a different place and different rules applied. She had been told she should take slow steps as to not wake anything below.

She was finally in the ghost town of Baseeta, she had read so much about it. The town had become a point of curiosity for many writers and artists, a famous poet, Hadiyya, had visited the town 50 years ago and wrote a poetry book - one of Djamila’s favourites. She recited one in whispers.

The English translation goes like this:

Tap, tap, tapping on the roof,

Like a bird with a shell,

To see if there is any life left to scoop out.

I stare up at the ceiling,

As I sweat in my bed,

Don’t even breathe - don’t make a single sound.

Tap, tap, taping along the tiles,

I thought they were a myth

But, by this monster moving above me, I am bound.

Djamila slipped through a darkened doorway and into the Tamer residence. It appeared abandoned on the outside, like the rest of the town. But, inside something was happening which was beyond anyone’s wildest imagination.

*

The Tamer residence consisted of the upstairs floor of six buildings along the street. It was safer to only use the upstairs. In a darkened room, seven teenagers sat at small desks in front of a projector screen. Four boys and three girls. Djamila was one of them. They had found it was easier to use bodies that were still developing.

“This will be an orientation only” next to the screen was a woman dressed all in black - a teacher figure. “There will be no information given about the process, this will just be historical context so you all know what you’re getting into” her voice was shrill. Her black hair was pulled back neatly into a bun, her manor was sharp and features even sharper.

“The planet Sahara. An arid place whereby humans lived in caves and below ground. In these pockets, 500 years ago, humans and dragons could co-exist. But, the dragons were too large a creature to sustain themselves in a place with such little to offer so, they died out." The screen showed images of endless desert expanse. "But, humans expanded overground. Then, 90 years ago four dragons emerged from the valley right beneath us. They destroyed our homes. Humans tried to fight them, they tried to trap them and bring them down but the dragons were too powerful.” The screen flickered through images of burning towns and screaming horrors.“Nobody knows how they reappeared or how they are surviving but, they have been multiplying. It has been many decades but now, we have a new strategy… Every war has weapons and we need to be on a level playing field” she smirked slightly.

There had been rumours but nobody knew for sure. There was no point hiding it now, this is the town where they were turning humans into dragons. Djamila’s mouth was dry and her heart thudded in her chest.

"We don't know if you will be able to infiltrate them, follow them and understand what happened 90 years ago, or if you will simply fight them" she turned off the projector and the room launched into darkness. “But I will say, you will be able to transform back and forth from human to dragon, that will ensure our ability to communicate. You will also have to sign a form that says after this process, we own you” the lady stared down at each one of them. They were the first batch, the experiment, it was unclear what it would be like or how many might survive.

Now, due to historical accounts, we know the process was a brutal one in which some historians call 'the beginning of the end for human species on planet Sahara.' But, for Djamila this was just her beginning.

"There's a problem with your form" the stern teacher blocked the doorway as they were out shown and to their rooms "you haven't put your surname?"

"Oh... I don't have one" Djamila stuttered, the teacher's eyebrow raised "I was brought up in the orphanage in the City of Buma (City of Owls) and I never knew my full name..."

"Hm, seeking belonging are we?" she teased, then she let her pass.

*

Djamila's room was very small, it contained a desk, chair, wardrobe and single bed. There were no lights allowed in the Tamer residence. She stood amongst the shadowy furniture feeling a strange tingle of destiny. They had told them all to get a good night's rest.

This story is put together from historical accounts, literacy writings and the notes in Djamila’s diary kept from the year 19,000 to 21,000. After her last account in 21,000, there is no record of what happened to her. This is the three year story of revenge on planet Sahara.

On this night, June 20th, she wrote her first entry:

The terrible, magical journey has begun.