Dragon's Blood

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. Centuries had healed Yamaku’s draconic destruction, and now only the Ryuchi-gawa river and Hebi Yokusei-ji temple attested to the ancient horrors of the Great Demon of the Mountain. Since the death of Yamaku and the founding of Yokusei-ji shortly after, the monks’ faithful dedication to ritual had prevented the dragon god’s return.

A roar from the village sent a cloud of birds into the sky and made Go’s hair stand on end. Carrying a bucket of water on either end of a pole across his shoulders, he hurried his ascent in the gray dawn light. Icy water sloshed onto the mountainside path, leaving a trail of dark mud and the brisk morning air biting at Go’s cheeks.

As he neared the temple overlooking Azumi village, the sacred bell rang in alarm. The chimes pealed through the forest and rippled over the river—unnecessary since the dragons’ roars and crashing buildings were themselves warnings enough.

Monks scrambled within the courtyard, still careful not to disturb the rock garden as they collected their relic weapons and hurried to the village. Go dropped the buckets by the backdoor to the kitchen, splashing frigid water over his sandaled feet. He tried to follow his brethren into the armory, but a senior monk pushed him out the door, jabbing his chest with a finger.

“Not you.” The bald monk frowned.

“I’ve been training to subdue the dragons, too.” Go protested, but the monk gave him a warning glare before trotting off with the others toward the rising smoke.

Go watched with clenched fists as the monks filtered through the stone, Torii gate. Their sandals crunching in the gravel sounded like a retreating rain as the courtyard emptied. Go had already completed his fire resistance training, and at thirteen his agility surpassed most at the temple, yet they prohibited his participation in battle.

“Sensei.”

Master Anzan sighed with relief and rushed to meet Go at the front steps, his bald head shined with sweat and his long beard of curly white wrapped around his shoulder. He grabbed Go’s wrist and shoved an ancient coin into his hand.

“Do not follow our brothers into battle. You will be safe this side of the river and on this sacred ground. Should we all perish, warn the emperor with this talisman.” With his message delivered, Anzan raced after his fellow monks.

“But Sensei, I can fight.” Go called after the head monk, but the wizened warrior flew down the stairs, his tan robes billowing behind him.

Standing between A and Un, the stone, Komainu statues, Go watched the battle through the gate. Serpentine dragons writhed in and around buildings, belching fire and leveling homes with their powerful tails. Thatch roofs, lit like kindling, rose on the updrafts only to rain down on the surrounding homes. Within minutes, the entire village burned as monks swarmed the streets between infernos like disturbed ants, searching for villagers to evacuate.

The sun rose, but the sky remained bleak with the valley ablaze. Go caught snippets of the battles raging between monk and dragon as the smoke occasionally parted in the wind. He couldn’t count the dragons accurately, but the monks seemed to struggle despite their superior number. Through the breaks in the haze, he could see dragons escaping into the sky and forest, the monks unable to contain them. Even if any monks survived, the emperor would still need forewarning.

Go sprinted down the stone stairs when he saw the first bodies. His brothers had died while he watched from the safety of the temple. The smoke stung his eyes and throat as he descended, and the heat burned his skin long before he reached the base. There would be no village to save. He only dared hope for survivors.

The screeching of dragons and cries of men grew stronger as he leaped from the last step. Through the first Torii gate, Go crossed the bridge without hesitation. The wind shifted. The smoke drifted east and revealed a bloody street to the village center.

Monks lay in crumpled heaps against buildings, and a few dangled from rooftops and through shoji screens, all blackened by soot. In life the monks grew immune to fire, but in death everything turned to ash.

Go spotted movement in the square and hurried through the smoking blaze, keeping his eyes averted from his fallen brothers. A reptilian scream turned his blood to ice, and the shouts of men resounded over the scraping of scales on wood and stone.

The ground shook with the fall of a massive body, and a nearby roof caved in. A fresh plume of smoke spewed from a doorway into the street. Go’s surroundings disappeared in an acrid cloud of black. He choked on his breath and fell to his hands and knees to crawl blindly with watering eyes.

His hand grasped a limp foot in the dark, recoiling he fell into another body. On his feet in a second, he sped away from the dead, escaping the smoke. Waiting in the village center, Anzan lay pinned beneath a coil of moss green dragon.

The village stilled and crackled in the blaze. Go hobbled toward his master, sitting against a stone wall in a pool of his own blood. He stepped over a discarded naginata and weaved through stone shards to kneel at Anzan’s side.

“Sensei.” Tears spilled over Go’s cheeks, leaving pale streaks on his blackened face. He grasped the hand of the man who had found and raised him like a son as he searched for signs of life. “Please don’t leave me.”

The old man lay in motionless silence, a large gash in his head oozing over his brow. Go used his long sleeve to wipe the monk’s eyes clear and ran a finger over his whiskery cheek.

He couldn’t remember his parents clearly, only the faint smell of jasmine and a long forgotten, warm embrace. Frosty nights on the streets preceded his first memories of Anzan and their journey to the remote mountain temple. If the monk hadn’t spared his own cloak to cover the small child freezing to death, Go would have died on the snowy bridge that night.

Go squeezed Anzan’s hand, and the monk coughed blood, staining his white beard with specks of crimson. Elated with hope, Go lowered himself between the wall and dragon, and with the spiritual energy he’d been trained to harness, he shoved the scaly corpse with strength exceeding the natural ability of men.

He toiled, sweating and grunting, hoping to free his master. Anzan’s breaths came in short, raspy spurts. Go refused to think about the monk’s legs, crushed under the dragon. He had to save him.

A loud snap jerked Go’s attention to the square. Although a scorching breeze carried thick smoke through the village, obscuring his view, he saw a large, black claw standing on the broken naginata. A deep, throaty growl chittered from the haze. As the smoke thinned, Go stared into the giant, silver eye of a midnight black dragon.

He swallowed hard only three steps from the dragon’s flared nostrils, hissing as it took in his scent. From gray, frilly beard to its spiraling, slate horns, Go stood a foot shorter than the dragon’s enormous head. As it arched its neck, dragging its beard across the dusty ground, Go stood guard before Anzan. His weak knees threatened to collapse, and his instincts screamed retreat.

The dragon rose to its full height, towering over Go and the few smoldering rooftops that remained. From within its gaping maw a flicker warned Go a moment before it unleashed a flood of fetid flame.

He held his stance as dragonfire washed over him. The torrent whistled in his ears and while the heat felt mild, the sulfur in his nose and the light through his eyelids surprised him. When the flames subsided, Go remained unaffected. The dragon cocked its head in confusion and the boy checked Anzan over his shoulder. The dragonfire had only singed the fringes of the monk’s robes, and the tips of his beard smoked.

Lowering to a crouch, the dragon scrunched its neck back like a viper ready to strike and observed the boy. Go stood between the serpent and his master as the dragon stood between him and the river’s protection.

He couldn’t defeat the dragon, but perhaps he could fight and escape with Master Anzan. Go had indeed completed fire training, but his utilization of spiritual energy for real combat would be negligible.

Go gathered his spirit energy into his fist as he exchanged a glare with the dragon. If he exhausted his spirit in one punch to the dragon’s head, he might daze the beast long enough to carry Anzan across the bridge. But only if he could free the crippled monk.

With fuel for the fires consumed, the smoke dissipated. Go tensed at the sight of the dragon’s full form. Four stout legs with three talons each dug into the cobblestone street and held up its trembling, lanky body. A mane of gray, wispy hair ran the length of the dark beast’s back and ended in a feathery tuft, flicking side to side as it readied to pounce.

Go’s fist glowed pale blue with power, reflecting in the dragon’s terrifying eye. He widened his stance and squatted low, prepared to deliver a devastating blow.

“Go.”

The boy’s eyes grew wide at the weak voice. He didn’t dare turn from the dragon now but called over his shoulder. “Sensei. I don’t know if I can stop it, but I will fight.”

“No.” Anzan coughed wetly and winced. “I can’t be saved. Get across the river and warn the emperor.”

“But Sensei. . . .”

“You are not strong enough.” Anzan rasped, losing himself in urgency and choking on the blood in his lungs. “We will both die for nothing. Run!”

The dragon lurched forward, its neck straightening and propelling its snapping jaws at a dizzying speed. For a moment, Go struggled with the temptation to disobey his master and strike the beast—to die honorably, defending his master and temple.

At the last second, he shifted his energy to his feet and leaped through a charred doorway. The dragon crashed into Anzan and the wall, rocking the crumbling buildings into collapse. Go scrambled out of the wreckage before it could crush him and rolled onto his feet.

In a full sprint he flew through the smoking remains of Azumi village. He hadn’t seen a single villager or any other dragons. Only the mangled and burned bodies of the monks littered the streets.

With a roar, the dragon gave chase, smashing through buildings just as Go passed them. Each exploding house sent ash and burned rubble cascading around him. He couldn’t look back for fear of stumbling. Across the bridge lay safety, a traveler’s pack, and a moment to catch his breath.

On a side street from the one he entered, Go turned haphazardly around corners, trying to find a straight route to the river. The dragon never lost him, closely tailing him like a hunting hound barreling through wood and stone.

His heart ached from exertion, but gladdened when the bridge came into view at the end of the street. Go made a mad dash as a jet of flame burst from within the ruined house beside him. The flames licked him harmlessly, but the surprise and force of the fire-breath knocked him off his feet. The dragon’s head shot out of the building and snapped at him as he fell. Years of training turned the fall into an evasive roll. The dragon clamped onto the hood of Go’s robe, tearing it from his back as he scrambled forward and over the bridge.

He collapsed on the gravel, chest heaving, and lay sprawled where he fell. With eyes closed, safely separated by the river, he settled into rhythmic breaths and brought his heartbeat under control.

Wood splintered and splashed. Go’s breath caught as he sat up alert. The black dragon recovered from its fall through the bridge and cautiously slithered toward him. Go clambered back into the bamboo along the base of the mountain. Terror gripped his heart with a fist of ice.

“How?”

The dragon inhaled deeply, and in his panic, Go ran away from the temple grounds.

As he fled, the dragon cast its fire after him, setting the bamboo ablaze and vaporizing the grass along the river bank. Steam rose from the boiling surface with a hiss as the fire nipped at his heels.

The trees closed in on either side, slowing the dragon’s pursuit, but no matter how hard he pumped his legs, Go couldn’t put enough distance between them. Hoping to lose it, he left the road and cut a trail through the thick forest.

A roar confirmed his pursuer’s frustration. Small woodland creatures dove into their dens or disappeared into the thicker shrubs to escape. Go found a stream which split off from the river and ran down its middle where the vegetation couldn’t grow. The spray he kicked up soaked his loose pant legs which slapped his calves as he ran.

He would have enjoyed the scenery if not for the murderous lizard after him. The sun filtered through the canopy above and the water gurgled gently over the pebbles. He splashed through without a second glance, grateful only for the lack of dragon sounds. He almost slowed, thinking he’d finally escaped, when a shadow blocked the sun. Midstride, he checked the sky and paled at the hunter tracking him above the trees.

The stitch in his side stabbed, but he pushed through as the stream grew shallow and wide. He looked back through the thinning canopy as the dragon roared. It dove through the trees, snapping branches as it descended upon him with gaping jaws.

When Go looked forward again, he had only three steps before the cliff. Seconds from seeing the inside of a dragon’s stomach, he kept pace and leaped over the waterfall.

As he fell, the dragon sheared off the edge of the cliff and tumbled through the air, a black ribbon of shining scales in the breeze. A small pool gathered at the base of the falls, fifty feet below. Go closed his eyes and braced himself for the plunge, hoping the rocks that followed would miss him.