Dragonkeeper

by Carole Wilkinson

  She looked at the dragon. She’d never ridden on any sort of animal, let alone a dragon. Danzi’s long scaly body looked slippery.

  “I’ll fall off,” she said. “There’s nothing to hold on to.”

  “Sit behind head. Hold onto horns,” said Danzi.

  Ping checked that Hua was tucked safely inside her jacket. Then she took hold of one of the dragon’s horns to steady herself. The dragon held up a paw.

  ”Wait. Must get stone,” he said.

  “There’s no one here to steal it, Danzi,” said Ping impatiently. “It will be safe until you get back.”

  “Cannot leave stone,” said Danzi.

  Ping didn’t want to waste time arguing with a difficult dragon. She looked up at the grey sky. A snow eagle circled slowly above them.

  “Okay,” she said picking up the large stone and tucking it under her arm. She lifted her tunic and threw one leg over the dragon’s back. Then she fitted her legs in front of the folded wings and held on to the dragon’s horns. Her lap, her arms and Danzi’s neck formed a sort of basket in which the dragon stone fitted snugly.

  “I’m ready,” she said, though the catch in her voice betrayed her fear.

  The dragon ran a few paces towards the edge of the mountain. He kept running as he opened his wings and strode right off the mountain and into the air around it. Ping screamed as the upward rush of air told her the dragon was falling. Danzi’s leathery wings suddenly seemed as thin as silk gauze. The dragon plummeted down, unable to open them in the roaring wind. Then inch by inch his wings opened, the rush of air slowed and the dragon began to glide.

  The dragon’s scales had a rough surface that made it impossible to slip off, even though the dragon was listing slightly to one side. With her hands holding on tightly to his horns and her knees gripping Danzi’s neck, Ping began to trust that she wasn’t about to fall off. Below her, the sides of the mountain fell steeply away to a valley which was a long, long way beneath them. The rest of the featureless mountain range surrounded them on all sides. Ping felt her stomach lurch. She found it easier if she closed her eyes and pretended that they were only a few feet above the ground.

  The sunlight was warm on her face. Her shoes and socks steamed as they began to dry out. She felt drowsy.

  “We must be nearly there now, Danzi,” Ping said sometime later. She lifted her head, which had been resting on the dragon stone. Her neck was stiff. “Did I doze off?”

  She looked around. The mountain had disappeared. Blue sky surrounded them.

  “Danzi!” shouted Ping. “Where is Huangling Mountain?”

  The dragon didn’t reply. The wind carried the sound of his breathing. It was hoarse and strained, like an imperial messenger who had just run many li.

  “Where are we?”

  The dragon tilted his wings to allow him to turn. A mountain suddenly loomed in front of them. Ping searched the slopes for the palace, but couldn’t see it. The mountain drew closer. Its slopes were patched like a moulting sheep where the snow was thawing and the dung coloured earth was showing through. She could make out rocks and a stream. A herd of wild goats scattered when they saw the dragon swooping down from the sky. There was still no sign of the palace. The dragon’s breathing was getting more and more laboured. His wings were straining. The ground raced towards them as the dragon lost control of his descent. He clipped the top of a rock with his tail and tipped sideways. His left wing scraped along a sharp ridge. He banked to the right and crashed into the earth. Ping was flung off the dragon’s back. She saw Hua sail into the air, his legs spread wide. She hit the ground and tumbled head over heels until she collided with a large rock. The breath was knocked out of her. Her body was bruised and shaking. One of her sleeves was torn to the elbow. An outcrop of rocks lay less than an arm’s length away, like a great row of grey teeth. If she’d landed there, she would have been killed.

  Ping scrambled to her knees. The sudden movement made her dizzy. Hua lay in the snow, his eyes bright with terror. Ping gently picked him up and sighed with relief. The rat was stunned but unharmed. She crawled painfully towards the motionless dragon. His left wing lay open on the snow next to him, like a piece of discarded clothing. It had a large gash in it. The edges of the ragged tear rustled in the wind. She couldn’t hear any words in her mind. She leaned close and was relieved to see the dragon’s chest moving, though his breath was coming in raw rasps.

  “Danzi,” she whispered. “Look what you’ve done to yourself.”

  Ping found a stream and cupped icy water in her hands. She took it to the dragon who lapped it up with his long red tongue. After a few minutes the dragon’s breathing slowed.

  “Stone,” he said.

  “I don’t know where your stupid stone is,” yelled Ping.

  “Must find stone.”

  Ping looked around. “I can’t see it. You should forget about the stone and take more care of yourself.”

  She scanned the mountain top. She was reluctant to admit it, even to herself, but she was also anxious about the stone. It could easily have rolled down the mountain. It might have been smashed to pieces on a rock. The rim of the sun appeared beneath the clouds. Rays of orange light flashed out. She saw a glint in a shallow ravine. It was only a few steps away, but it took a while for Ping to make her bruised legs walk again. Ping lowered herself shakily into the ravine. The purple stone was resting on a bed of snow. She picked it up and clambered back to the dragon.

  “Here it is,” she said. Her legs crumpled beneath her.

  The dragon let out a long sigh.

  Ping turned the stone over. “It’s still in one piece.”

  The sun’s appearance was brief. It soon disappeared behind the mountains. The short winter day was almost over. Ping didn’t want to spend another night on a mountain.

  “Danzi, which way is the palace?” Somehow she would make her shaky legs walk the rest of the way.

  “Huangling Palace over there,” said the dragon.

  Ping strained her eyes in the direction that Danzi’s talon pointed. She was looking out over the valley which had disappeared into the growing darkness. She was peering at another mountain, three peaks away, distant and snow-capped. It took her a few moments to comprehend.

  “Is that Huangling?”

  The dragon struggled to his feet and inclined his head wearily.

  “You’ve taken me away from my home,” she said turning to him angrily. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “What was in front is now behind.”

  Ping’s head was spinning at the thought of how many days it would take her to walk back to Huangling. A faint sound that had been annoying her ever since they had landed, forced itself into her consciousness. It was a distant rhythmic thumping. It was getting louder.

  ”Are you making that noise?” the girl asked.

  The dragon shook his head. “Cannot hear noise.”

  Ping faced the distant shape of Huangling and made a few unsteady steps towards it.

  “Are you coming with me, Danzi?” she asked. She turned to see the dragon stumbling behind her, his damaged wing trailing on the ground. As they slowly descended, the sound grew. It had a relentless rhythm, not pleasing to the ear, a thudding beat like a bad headache.

  The dragon pointed a talon into the dusk.

  “We approach road to Huangling.”

  Ping peered into the half-light. She could just make out a stone marker on the path no more than ten steps in front of them. There the path divided. One branch led west towards Huangling. The other led east. Ping hurried towards the fork in the road. She had no doubt which path she would take. She had almost reached it when she felt the dragon’s talons encircling her arm, holding her back.

  “Hear sound now,” the dragon said, peering along the other branch of the path.

  “I should think you can,” the girl said. “It’s as loud as someone pounding grain.”

  A clinking noise was added to the pounding and then a harsh voice shouting ord
ers.

  “Imperial guards!” said the dragon. “Hide!”

  The dragon paw pulled her behind a rock which was just large enough to hide a girl and a crouching dragon.

  “What do you—”

  Guards in red tunics appeared on the path—many of them. The throbbing sound was the pounding of tramping feet. The clinking, the sound of swords and spears clashing together to make a marching beat. The rough voice shouted out a command. The tramping stopped. The feet came to a halt no more than an arm’s length from where Ping and the dragon were hidden. Now Ping could hear the guards’ heavy breathing. She could smell the sweat on their panting bodies.

  “We’ll rest for ten minutes,” shouted the hoarse voice. “We’ve still got more than a day’s march till we reach Huangling Palace.”

  The guards groaned.

  “And I want two men to scout ahead,” the commander added. “Remember what the messenger said. We have to keep a sharp look out for the sorceress. She will appear to be a young girl but she’s very dangerous. The Emperor has ordered her to be executed on sight.”

  Ping’s heart missed a beat.

  “How will we know her?” said one of the guards.

  “She wears a cunning disguise. She is dressed in rags and her hair is knotted like a vagabond’s. But you’ll easily recognise her. She’s left-handed and she carries a rat in her clothing.”

  A murmur of fear passed through the guards.

  “More importantly she has a dragon with her—unless she’s killed the beast. She’s already slaughtered twelve of the imperial dragons and sold them. The Imperial Dragonkeeper was powerless against her sorcery.”

  The girl opened her mouth to protest, but was quickly stopped by a dragon paw.

  The guards were complaining about their bleak surroundings.

  “There are no trees, nothing to make a fire with,” one said.

  “I’ve seen no wild animals that we could spear for dinner,” complained another. “There’s not so much as a nut or a berry to stave off hunger.”

  “You’d better get used to it,” replied the commander. “You’re going to be garrisoned at Huangling from now on.”

  In a few minutes the grumbling guards were called to attention. Torches were lit and they continued on their weary way. The pounding started again. Ping didn’t move until the sound faded.

  “Lan has told them I’m a sorceress. He’s blamed everything on me,” she said. “I can’t go back to Huangling.”

  Ping pulled Hua from her jacket and hugged him to her. Tears fell on the rat’s fur.

  “Ping’s life not good at Huangling,” the dragon said.

  Ping pictured the warm fire in Master Lan’s room and a pot of hot gruel.

  “It was my home and I’d give anything to be back there now.” Tears streamed down her face. She looked at the dragon. “This is all your fault.”

  “All answers lie beyond the gate of experience,” he replied.

  Ping was tired of the dragon’s riddles. She shivered. The dragon cleared snow from a patch of earth with his tail and then coiled himself around her.

  • chapter six •

  BEYOND THE GATE OF EXPERIENCE

  “Is there nothing you’re afraid of … apart from

  dragon hunters?”

  Danzi picked delicately at the roots and herbs he had collected for their breakfast. Ping wasn’t hungry.

  “What will I do?” Ping whispered.

  “Ping must help take stone to Ocean.” The dragon’s voice sounded soft and quiet in Ping’s mind.

  “I just want to go home.”

  “Ping no longer slave,” said Danzi. “Free. Travel with Danzi to Ocean.”

  “There’s no such place,” said Ping. “It’s just a place in stories.”

  Danzi shook his head. “Ocean real. Danzi has seen.”

  Ping turned to the dragon.

  “Ocean is magical place. Much water. Very beautiful.”

  Ping was listening carefully, as she used to when Lao Ma told her stories. She imagined a country that looked like the scenes in the paintings at Huangling palace. Lovely flowers would be growing everywhere and there would be rivers and lakes with pretty bridges to cross them.

  “Drink water from Ocean and wishes come true,” said the dragon. “What does Ping wish?”

  “I wish I could go ho—”

  The dragon interrupted before she could finish. “Waters of Ocean cannot turn back time.”

  Ping had never wished for anything more than a meaty bone to add to her gruel or an extra pair of hands to help her carry firewood.

  “Wouldn’t Ping like to live like princess? Wear fine silk gowns, embroidered slippers? Have servants to wait on her?”

  “Can the waters of Ocean do this?”

  The dragon nodded wisely.

  “Would I have as much meat as I could eat?”

  “Anything.”

  “Plums and mulberries?” Ping asked. “Peaches?”

  “Peaches size of melons,” replied Danzi.

  “Can Hua come?”

  The dragon’s prominent brow creased. “There are no rats in Ocean.”

  “He’ll be very good,” Ping said.

  The dragon reluctantly inclined his head.

  “How long will it take you to fly there?” Ping asked.

  The dragon inspected his damaged wing.

  “Cannot fly until wing healed. Soon reach inhabited lands anyway. Sight of flying dragon distresses simple people.”

  “You could fly at night,” said Ping.

  “In night sky, body collects moon’s rays, becomes luminous. Even more disturbing to peasant folk.”

  “So how will you get there?”

  “Walk,” replied the dragon.

  “Don’t walking dragons disturb people?”

  The dragon didn’t answer.

  Whether he walked or flew, Ping didn’t think Danzi had the strength for a long journey. She didn’t really believe his stories about Ocean, but she was a fugitive now. She had no choice but to follow the dragon on his foolish quest. With luck, she’d come across someone along the way who was in need of a good slave.

  They scrambled down the mountainside. The slushy melting snow of the previous day had turned to treacherous ice overnight. The dragon’s legs were still not healed where the dragon hunter’s iron chains had rubbed them, but with four feet and great care, he negotiated the icy slopes slowly but safely. Ping, with only two feet and less patience, soon had a sore bottom from slipping over.

  “Composure is the master of haste,” the dragon said.

  As they reached the lower slopes, the melting snow revealed soggy leaves that had lain hidden since autumn. Then green patches began to appear beneath their feet. At first nothing but sparse clumps of grass, but soon there was an endless covering of green studded with small yellow and blue flowers. The soft cover of unbroken green beneath her feet reminded Ping of the carpets at the palace. No one but the Emperor was permitted to walk on them.

  “Are you sure it’s alright to walk on these plants?” she asked the dragon.

  The sound of jingling bells told the girl that the dragon found this amusing.

  The path stopped descending and turned to snake across the rocky lower slopes of the mountain. It was no longer slippery with ice, but Danzi still took great care where he placed his feet among the rocks. Ping wished he could manage a faster speed. As they walked, the dragon filled Ping’s head with information about how to care for the dragon stone.

  “Must be kept away from iron, five-coloured thread and the leaves of the chinaberry tree,” he told her. “Dragon stone prefers an even temperature. Also benefits from occasional rub with arsenic. Ping must never lose sight of stone. Dragon stone has great value. Dishonest people, rich and poor, desire it.”

  Ping was only half listening. The dragon stone under her arm was awkward to carry. It was very beautiful though. She traced the milky white swirls with a finger. She could understand why people would want to steal
it.

  “Tell no one we are travelling to Ocean,” the dragon said, though Ping didn’t know who he thought she’d tell as they hadn’t met anyone so far. “Keep destination secret.”

  As the days passed, the tiny flowers gave way to bushes and small pine trees until one day, Ping found herself in a wood for the first time.

  “I’ve never seen so many trees,” she said, staring in wonder at the pine trees surrounding them. “Why has no one chopped them down for firewood?”

  “Some people value trees for beauty,” Danzi replied. “Not many people here anyway,” he added.

  Hua poked his head out of Ping’s jacket to look around. It was late in the afternoon and he was probably getting hungry. Danzi glared at the rat.

  “Don’t look at Hua like that,” said Ping reproachfully. “You’re making him nervous. He’s worried he’ll end up as a tasty dragon snack.”

  “Tasty!” the dragon rumbled. “Rat tastes foul.”

  Ping pushed Hua inside her jacket. She didn’t want to ask how he knew. She changed the subject.

  “What if we meet a tiger?” Ping asked.

  “Danzi will fight.”

  Ping looked at the dragon’s vicious talons and sharp teeth. He would be a match for a tiger.

  “What about snakes?”

  “Snakes are dragon friends.”

  “Is there nothing you’re afraid of…apart from dragon hunters?”

  “Dragon hunters are just men. It is iron weapons Danzi fears.”

  “So you don’t fear any creatures?”

  The dragon was silent for a moment.

  “There is just one creature dragons fear,” Danzi said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Centipede.”

  “Centipedes?” Ping exclaimed. “Even I’m not afraid of centipedes.”

  “Centipedes crawl into ears. Find way to brain. Eat brain.”

  Ping had never heard of such a thing.

  They had been walking for four days. The muscles in Ping’s legs ached. The path, narrow and overgrown at first, had become broader. They passed occasional fields, most of which were bare and empty apart from straggly melon vines or a few rows of onions. After a while, they saw a man in one of the fields, a farmer wearing a bamboo hat, bent over some wilted cabbages. Ping remembered what Danzi had said about people being disturbed by the sight of dragons in their fields. She turned to the dragon who was lagging behind.