A Dangerous Venture

"There weren't always dragons in the Valley." That was all my great-grandmother Elexi could say when yet another child or a brave hunter would be lost to those malicious beasts. She passed down stories of the peace that once existed in our village but being so young we could not begin to imagine a life without the fear we were accustomed to. She spoke of harvests and jubilant festivals that would persist for weeks on end. There was dancing and laughter; children much like us adventuring into the forests picking berries and fruits without a single care. I didn't know what dancing was, but the way she described it seemed silly and unnecessary to survival. Laughter was something I'd only experienced a handful of times, and I understood that there was very little to laugh about in this life we lived.

When I was younger I'd asked Gam Elexi where the dragons came from. She grew quiet and I feared she would not tell me, but after a few moments of sitting silently by the hearth, she began the tale.

The Kaorin-Nu Empire was the ruling house in her day and they had been locked in a long and brutal war for control over the western territories. Our village was seated on the outskirts of their control and when word came that the war was coming to an end many people were relieved that we hadn't yet been pulled into direct conflict with the other ruling houses. The Kaorin-Nu were losing but that was of little concern. Our village had always been a peaceful and untainted one under hundreds of shifts in power in the past. We were a small sanctuary in a world of turmoil and many a council before understood that a place like ours was of little use militarily. But the Empire was desperate, and they saw an opportunity within the land we called home. They brought what they had of their stable of dragons to the forest just beyond the village to our north. The water was clean and the food was plentiful. The Koarin-Nu saw it as an optimal breeding ground to strengthen their legion of beasts. They ensured us that the land they chose would be sectioned off and controlled; that our people would be in no danger. Gam Elexi, a young girl then, and the rest of our village were assured by the elders that there would be nothing to worry about. She guessed that would have been true, but only if the war continued on and the Empire could turn the tide in their favor. Unfortunately, that was not what happened.

A few years after the breeding began the Kaorin-Nu were under siege in their city. They pulled their forces from the Valley and shuttled with them the fully grown dragons they'd cultivated. A few weeks later they got word in the villages that the war had been lost to an invading house from the east. The Kaorin-Nu Empire was no more, and the villages waited for representatives from the new ruling house to come and impart whatever new sanctions they saw fit on the border villages. Weeks passed and no one came, life here resumed as it always had and many were prepared for a new era of relative peace. That was, until a discovery had been made.

Gam Elexi's husband, my great-grandfather, and his hunting party ventured into the woods once used for dragon breeding under the impression that they were again only inhabited by deer and boar. They were gone for four days and nights, much longer than they should have been. Gam said she was not concerned as her husband was the best hunter and leader the village possessed, but she admitted that that fourth day was a frightening one. Her mind went to dark places and she feared that some terrible tragedy struck their hunting party. The next day a young hunter named Leyan returned mortally wounded and missing an arm and most of his face. Before he passed he warned the elders of the new threat in the forests; dragon pups, big as horses, roamed beneath the trees destroying almost everything in their path. He said they found nests, an abundance of them, and that the dragons they encountered were healthy and aggressive.

The elders sent a small scouting party to the villages to the north and the west, and when they returned they reported that they found the villages all but completely destroyed. Not a single soul was left.

Many of the families in the village fled after that. Some returned because they were unable to traverse the new threat lurking in the forest. Gam Elexi, like a few others, never once thought to flee. She said maybe it was because she could never truly leave the place where she and her husband raised their children, but she also knew it went deeper than that. This village was home, and many were not going to give up that easily.

The elders of her time were smart and well-traveled, meaning they had a cursory knowledge of dragons and what can be used to keep them at bay. Mixtures of certain herbs could be turned into burnable substances that could be used to repel the dragons from encroaching on the village. Using those remedies and physical barriers around the village's border worked quite well for some time. Life was different, Gam said, but they did not often need to worry about becoming victims of their new predators.

However, it had been sixty years since then and the strategies that were once effective against the dragons had their expiration some time ago. Gam Elexi claimed that their land was so fruitful for the dragons that the beasts could grow stronger and more resilient than anyone could imagine. Eventually, the beasts grew resistant to the herbal repellants, and the physical barriers deteriorated to the point that nothing could be kept out. She said this was realized just before I was born, and that ever since things had been getting worse.

It was then my great-grandmother grew silent yet again. I knew the rest of the story from there. From my first few memories of lying in the darkness of our hut, hearing the occasional stomps and grumbles that lay just beyond the treeline to the day I saw my very own father being mauled and drug away before my eyes on a trip to the outside to gather wood. I understood her apprehension to speaking about the present; compounded with the many difficult years she endured I figured she did not want to relive them. She had lost too many of her kin to a force so strong and terrifying that silence became her last great retreat. Before we snuffed out the fire for the night I remember her saying one last thing to me.

"Maxinia," she said, "This is your home, just as it was mine and everyone who came before us. The tragedy I've faced has been born from within me, and in my old age I've come to realize that survival can be mistaken for cowardice. And that foolish acts can be misunderstood as honorable endeavors."

I listened, unable to find the meaning in her cryptic statement.

She continued, "You'll be given a choice one day, my dear Max. I pray that you remember what is most important in this life, and that you do not fall into the same traps this ignorant woman has led herself into."

I sat now at that same hearth, a few years later, with nothing but that memory and Gam Elexi's treasured obsidian pendant she'd given me just before she passed. She said it was given to her by my great-grandfather, and that it was supposed to bring good fortune to those that live in harmony with the earth like we do. I convinced myself that it gave me strength in the presence of fear, much like she must have felt in all her years of wearing it.

What was left of us was myself, my mother, and my brother Kozen. This day that I sat reminiscing about Gam-Elexi's stories and proverbs was a significant one. Mother had left to scavenge for food and supplies in the forest, and it was the third day without her return. We grew up knowing that each time someone left the village that there was a strong possibility they would not come back. These weeks had been quiet ones; the few scouts that were left sent word around that the larger dragons were likely moving south for the colder months, and that now would be a good time to stock up on supplies where they could be found. Kozen and I begged mother to stay in at least one more day, but she trusted the scouts' reports more than we did.

The hearth was dark and the day turned into evening. Kozen and I sat huddled near the hearth, sharing warmth and a hope that our mother might still return with at least rabbit scraps and a few logs for the fire. Kozen was more hopeful than I, and it was then I envied his youthful denial.

"Maxi," Kozen said.

I looked down at him, his eyes welling with tears, and I could tell he was coming around to the ever-present truth we were facing. "It will be alright, brother," I said. I did not know what to do other than lie.

With the blanket I pulled him closer to my chest and I felt his quiet sobs shake my body. I felt tears well within me and a small lump in my throat. We'd lost family before, many times, but that did not mean it got any easier.

We watched the light in the hut grow darker until it was once again night. There was no sign of mother, no movement beyond the little world we struggled in. I thought back again to the memory of Gam Elexi. I thought about her strength, her knowledge, and her warnings.

I had a decision to make.