Honestly, I spent too much time trying to edit a story to make it presentable that I got past 3 am with nothing to show for it. I got about half of the completed portion of the story done but its also not done. I kind of put off editing two of my stories until now because I don't really like editing my own stuff and neither do I have anyone who'd help with that. I have friends who'd be happy to proof read it but I need someone to be tough on my writing so I can improve.
Anyone willing to be mean to be to help me get better at my art?
I'm still floundering on my ideas for NaNoWriMo. 50,000 is quite a lot of words. I won't lie and say I got this in the bag. Not in the slightest. The site has already proved useful though.
There is a Literary Group here in Ocala called The Dragon's Sandbox. I emailed them for information about the group. Here's hoping I don't chicken out and hide from people who might be awesome.
Enough with my silliness. Onto the story.
Children of the Dragon
"Hey, Drishti,
your daughter Jareia's almost of age, isn't she?" Neesa asked as she
folded up her clothing.
Drishti froze for a
moment before continuing her mending. "Couldn't be. It can't have been so
long." She cleared her throat, hoping to hide the note of high panic.
"Was it really that long?"
"Yes, I think it
has. Your Jarek passed just after we finished bringing in the harvest the year
before and Jareia showed up not long after that." Neesa rolled her other
laundry into a bundle on the floor and sat beside it. "Your mourning days
ended just a week ago. So that means Jareia is three next week."
Drishti plucked out
the stitches in her mending and began pacing around the small common area of
her home. She glanced over at the crib sitting in the corner of the hut.
Inside, still sleeping, was the only thing that had kept Drishti in this world
after Jarek's unexpected death. She leaned over to the child and set her hand
on the child's chest, feeling her body rise and fall in sleep. Jareia squirmed
and turned onto her stomach, whimpering in her dreams. Drishti turned back to
her companion with a worried look.
"Neesa, you've
sent five children to the ceremony. What happens? How many children does the
Dragon take?" She pleaded, looking back down at her baby.
Neesa's eyes softened
as she watched the young mother. "All children from three to thirteen in
the village must go through the ceremony. First, you take her to be cleansed as
according to the rituals. The high priests of the Dragon temple will take Jareia
from you and perform several rites, purifying her and teaching her what to say
and to keep quiet. Then you and Jareia will spend three days in the chambers of
the temple, learning and testing your resolve to follow the Dragon. After the
three days, you will be brought to the center of the fields, where the Dragon
himself will review the children and choose the ones he will take." Neesa
reached for the discarded mending as she spoke. "Jareia will stand in the
field with the other children, waiting for the Dragon's verdict. You will stand
a distance behind, with the other parents. You are not permitted to address the
Dragon when he comes."
Neesa looked into Drishti's
wide eyes. "Now this part will be the hardest for an outsider like you to
understand. The Dragon will descend on the field and look at the children. He
will assess them as they walk past. For the most part he will be silent, but in
the past, some children have been singled out when the Dragon speaks to them.
Then he will either leave or choose one of the children." Neesa smiled and
patted Drishti's hand to reassure her. "The Dragon hasn't chosen a child
from this village for almost four generations. And when it does choose a child,
they're never as young as Jareia. Three is just the starting age I think. So
the children can get used to the sight of the Dragon."
Drishti smiled
uncertainly. "If you're sure, Neesa."
~~~~~
Just after sunrise, Drishti
led her daughter to the temple of the Dragon. Built directly into the side of a
mountain, the massive building was home to the Priest and Priestesses of the
Dragon, all of whom had taken a vow of silence. They were greeted by a young
alycote in her pale grey robes. With a wave of her hand, she led them further
into the temple, down a spiraling path. The young woman pointed at a large black
door before disappearing down a concealed hall to the side.
Four priests of the
Scale Order stood on the other side of the door. Swathed in their deep green
robes, they stood immovable and looming in the torchlight. One glided up and
held out his hand for Jareia to follow.
Forcing a smile, Drishti
nudged her daughter to follow the man. "Be good for me, sweetling."
Her voice bounced back off the walls and startled her with the sound.
From another side
corridor an older woman in robes took Drishti's hand and led her away. The
woman led Drishti through a large passage, into a large garden filled with
flowers of every color and size. Here the woman bowed and departed, leaving Drishti
to her own devices.
Drishti stayed in the
gardens of the temple until the sun was well past its zenith. Two times during
her wait, young priests delivered her a plate of food. The fruit and fresh
bread went untasted as Drishti wandered the garden, waiting for the priests to
bring her daughter back. Just as the sun was setting, two Scale priests came in
with Jareia. She sat on the shoulders of the younger priest, chattering about
her kitten.
"And she's so
soft and white with a brown spot between her eyes, just like Mommy has." Jareia's
face lit up when she saw her mother and started wiggling to get down.
"Mommy, the priests gave me honey bread!"
With a smile, the
younger priest set her down and pushed her towards her mother. He waved a hand,
gesturing for Drishti to come closer. He pulled out a pad of parchment and a
charcoal stick, holding it out to her.
"I'm sorry, I
don't know how to read." Drishti replied, her face growing warm, as he
pantomimed reading the paper.
He frowned, then
scribbled something down on the pad. He held it out to older priest beside him.
The older priest considered what was on the paper before slowly nodding.
The younger priest
cleared his throat. "I wished to talk to you about your daughter. It
appeared to me, and the other Dragon priests, that your daughter is very bright
for her age. Not only can she count, but she knows most of her shapes and
colors. I was amazed to find she also knew several prayers for the older
children, her letters and to read some small sentences. That's why I assumed
you'd be able to read." He spoke quickly, words tripping over each other
on the way out. Drishti hid her smile behind her hand, to avoid offending the
talkative priest. "All of that for her age is remarkable. I was wondering
how you taught her the letters if you do not know how to read?"
"My relative,
Neesa taught her. Neesa was the school mistress before Bellar came." Drishti
chuckled as the older priest glared at his protégé. Jareia tugged at Drishti's
skirt and she bent down to pick her daughter up, smoothing her thick brown
hair.
"One more
question, if I may. Who is Jareia's father? We keep all of the lineage records
in the town here." The younger man asked.
Drishti's smile died
and she cleared her throat. "Jarek. Her father was Jarek. He died just
before Jareia was born, in a hunting accident." Jareia heard the change in
her mother's voice and placed a small hand on her cheek.
Jareia looked at the
Scale. "Mommy tolded me Daddy loved me, even if he never met me." Drishti
buried her face in her daughter's hair as the tears threatened to flow.
The man frowned
slightly. "I am sorry to hear that. I remember Jarek from when I was an
alycote. He was a good man."
The older priest
stepped in. "That is enough, Scale Ashod. Don't you think it might be time
to return to your duties?" Ashod's face colored and he hurried out of the
room. His footsteps died before the priest spoke again. "Forgive him. His
scholar's nature doesn't leave much room for common sense. Anyone else would
have seen you are wearing the mourning colors. I am Scale Rennor."
"It's quite
fine." Drishti gave her eyes a hasty swipe with her sleeve. "After
three years, I should be a little better by now. But we lost him so
suddenly."
"There was one
more thing I wished to speak to you about." Scale Rennor began. "Your
daughter has a very strong aptitude for many things. I think it might be best
if, after the ceremony, she came to live here. To be taught. There are many
things she can learn here." He paused to look at her. "You don't have
to give me an answer now. After the ceremony, if you wish."
When he finished, he
gestured for a priestess to take them to a chamber. They were led down many
more corridors, taking them all the way back to the main hall. There the
priestess led them to a small room, furnished with two beds and a small table.
Jareia scrambled onto
the bed. "Mommy, is we gonna stay here a while? It's big here and it has
lots of books to look at." She stopped. "Do they have a lot of
picture books? Or paper to draw on?"
Drishti laughed
softly. "Yes, dear, but I think you might want to calm down a little. The
priests will get annoyed if you're too loud."
"Oh, okies. Be
really, really quiet now." Jareia curled up on the bed and pretended to
sleep.
~~~~
The next three days
passed quickly for Drishti. She spent many of her hours in prayer, seeking the
courage to place her only child into the field. She meditated on her life as a
mother and tried to think of anything she might have done wrong, so she could
repent. In her heart she made hundreds of bargains, saying if the Dragon would
pass over Jareia, she would become a better mother, would place Jareia in the
priesthood, anything to keep her daughter with her. Whenever she returned to
the present though, the fear of losing her daughter still shadowed her mind.
While her mother
prayed, Jareia played with everything she could get her hands on. When a priest
or priestess would deliver meals, she would talk to them. Often she asked them
for books or something to draw on. On the third morning, she ran up to Drishti
and shoved a drawing in her face.
"Mommy, lookit
what I drew!" Jareia pushed the paper towards her mother, her smile wide
and bright.
Drishti smoothed the
paper on the table in front of her. With a three year old's sense of colors, Jareia
had drawn the field outside the villiage. In the center, standing on purple
grass, the two of them stood facing each other. Drawing Jareia stood at the
same height as her mother and her skin was a dark caramel, closer to her
mother's color than the father she favored now. In the sky above them, hung a
large green shadow with large wings and big yellow claws. A red ball stood near
the mouth of the green shadow and Drishti assumed it was the sun. Beside her, Jareia
squirmed and wriggled.
Drishti smiled at her
small child. "This is good, Sweets. Did the priests say this is what
happens later today?" She glanced down at the picture, running her thumb
over the large green shadow.
"Uh-uh. That's
my dream last night." Jareia hopped up and grabbed another picture.
"Lookit this one, Mommy." She held out the other picture. It showed the
same field, with the same purple grass, but Jareia was much smaller and her
skin was paler. The green shadow wasn't in the sky either; it sat on the
ground, wings standing up.
"And what's
this?" Drishti asked, frowning.
"It's
today!" Jareia huffed. "See? That's the dragon, that's you and that's
me!"
"Why are you
bigger in the first picture though? Shouldn't you be the same size?" Drishti
pointed to the first picture. "You're good at size, Sweets."
"No! I can't be
the same size if I'm bigger, can I?" Jareia scoffed.
Before
Drishti could respond, an elderly priestess walked in and beckoned for them to
join her. Drishti scrambled to gather her belongings as Jareia scampered out
with the woman.
~~~~~~
The
field was filled with nervous parents hovering near their children, fussing
with their clothes and hair, making sure they looked presentable. The elderly
priestess led Drishti and Jareia to stand near one end of the group. She caught
the terrified look in Drishti's eyes and smiled at her. Reaching out, she
patted Drishti's shoulder and smoothed Jareia's hair. Without another sound,
she slipped into the crowd, tapping people on the shoulder and forming them
into a line across the field.
"My
children." The high priest of the order, known as the Wing, raised his
hands for attention at the center of the clearing. When all was silent, he
tucked his hands back into his robe and spoke in an ancient, whispery voice.
"My children, it is not yet time for The Dragon to appear. We have a
little time, so I propose we fill this time by a recitation of the old
lore."
A groan rose among the older candidates and
the Wing silenced it with a glare. "And I know it will please many of you
that I will not be reciting it. Our brother, Scale Demetrius, will do the
recitation." He stepped back to allow the younger priest to take the
center. Scale Demetrius lifted his hand for silence. His clear rose above and
was heard by all.
"Long,
long ago, when the great gods of old battled across the sky and humans were
nothing more than mute beast on the earth, the dragons ruled the sky and earth.
Hand created by the high god Dakir himself, the dragons were a sight to behold.
Over the land they soared, answering to no creature and doing as they saw fit.
This lasted for hundreds of years, until the great gods brought their war down
to the earth. Almost the entire earth was cleared of life as the gods battled
on, destroying everything around. The dragons saw this waste and banded
together to fight the old gods. The gods were affronted by this act of
treachery and swore to be even with the dragons. To have revenge on the
dragons, the old gods gave intelligence to man, making him think himself smarter
than the dragons. Then the gods flew over the land, spreading hatred all
around, to every living thing they found. They also granted man new weapons to
fight the dragons; weapons of dark magic and horrible power. Man began to hunt
and kill the dragons, taking their bones and fire sacs as trophies for their
homes. The gods were pleased by the destruction they wrought on the great
serpents.
"Only
one place on the earth was spared the killing madness. High in the mountains a
small country, surrounded on all sides by the mountain range, was passed over
by the gods as insignificant. It was here our ancestors stayed, away from the
killing and death. Here the dragons hid, gathering power and waiting for the
proper time. It was also here that the dragons launched their greatest attack
on the old gods. From the top of the highest mountain, the dragons flew to the
heavens, to battle the gods themselves. Many dragons died that day, littering
the earth with their bones. The battle
raged on for an eternity, neither group gaining on the other. Finally, one
young dragon succeeded in engaging the most powerful god, Dakir. In the
horrible battle around them, Dakir and the green studied each other. The both
rose at attack at the same time, clashing with the force of a thousand
thunderclaps. Dakir's sword cleaved through the armored scales covering the
dragon and the green screamed with rage, He lashed around and caught the great
god's head in his jaws. With one swift movement, he bit the head of Dakir
off." Totally engrossed with his storytelling, Scale Demetrius failed to
realize the next parts weren't acceptable for young children. Mothers covered
young ones ears as older boys cheered.
"The
green, covered in the god's blood, raised his gory snout, trumpeting to the sky
and the rest of the world his triumph. He then bent down and devoured the heart
of the great god, gaining immortality from the blood. The rest of the great
gods gave a loud wail, shaking earth with their lamentations for the loss of
their leader. The dragons regrouped and called for the surrender of the old
gods. The gods refused to step down from their deity but consented to never war
with each other on earth again. They gave the earth to the green, claiming it
was his to rule. He declined, not wanting to rule a land where he would be
hated and despised because of the god's curse. The only thing the green wanted,
he told the gods, was a place where he could live in peace. The green retreated
back to the mountains, claiming these lands as his domain. To this day, these
lands are protected by Juleck Riftscale, Bane of Dakir. Also to this day, any
child born with the old blood in their veins will never fear a dragon, having
seen one or not." He glanced at his audience. Most of them were backed up
a little, with their eyes fixed behind him. Slowly he turned, only to stare into
a pair of massive gold eyes and a large green scaled snout. The priest fought
the urge to run from the massive creature behind him.
"A
story well told, human." The Dragon rumbled, showing his many teeth in a
intimidating grin. The man nearly passed out on the spot. "It made even me
relive that battle, as if I were there again. Well told indeed."
~~~~
It's really long and incomplete. Not to mention boring. Very boring.
I'm just gonna head to bed, lovelies. I hope I get some form of reply from that literary group. I think it'd be nice and maybe good for me to hang out with other writers again.
Sleep well and sweet dreams.
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