Chapter 4
The Dragon
By the time Wu Zhao and her brothers, now fully sated, glided into the enormous Cavern of the Ancestors, most of the prime roosts above the Three Pools of Renewal were already taken. Thousands of dragons of all five colors—blue, red, yellow, black, and white—squatted, heads close together in various conversations. There were no rainbow serpents, of course. They would not be seen unless Ao Shun, their chief, arrived. Even then, most of his hong would be difficult to see if they chose to remain in their ascended state.
The Cavern of the Ancestors was a massive grotto high up in the ragged cliffs that marched along the ocean’s eastern coast for several miles. It had been large when the dragons first arrived hundreds of years earlier. Led by Ao Shun’s father, Ao Qin, they had delved deeply, shaping it to meet their spiritual needs. Other caves, much smaller, dotted the cliffs and many dragon families made their homes here, including Wu Zhao’s. The Cavern of the Ancestors, however, remained the center of their faith.
It dove deep beneath the plateau above. Stalagmites and stalactites had been smashed and smoothed out; in fact, few rough edges remained anywhere, and the stone floor’s flagstones were polished to a sheen. On all sides, ledges had been carved for families to roost during various holy ceremonies. The top ledge was reserved for the ascendant dragons, those dragons who had mastered the secrets of invisibility. There were about a score of them, and all were among the first dragons who had been born on Faery hundreds of years ago. They sat silent, their proud eyes studying the others. Disdainfully, she thought.
Two ledges were at the bottom of the cavern, closest to the ceremonial floor. One was an honored roost reserved for the family or clan responsible for preparation of the cavern for the current ceremony. For today’s Iris Festival, it was her family who would perch there, having spent the past week painstakingly cleansing the grotto. A second roost was opposite. The Great Ones already sat here, their wings tight against their bodies. These five elders—one from each color—guided all aspects of the dragons’ lives…all except Ao Shun and his hong of rainbow serpents, who kept themselves separate from the Colors, as the dragons of Cavern of the Ancestors called themselves.
In the center of the bowl-shaped floor sat three large, perfectly circular pools, the Three Pools of Renewal. Normally, the waters in these pools were clear and calm. At festival time, however, they would swirl and transform to colors appropriate for the ceremony. As Wu Zhao and her brothers drifted down to the host ledge, she noted the pools were their proper lavender color. Her family had performed the cleansing flawlessly.
She wondered again if Ao Shun really would show up like her father thought. Then again, maybe his hong was already here, invisible in their ascended state. She shook her head. The Colors rarely saw more than one or two dragons—mature ones like her parents—perform the rite of ascendency each century, when they could join the elders’ circle and learn the ritual that hid their scales from mortal eyes, yet the rainbow serpents often reached their ascendency at the same age the Colors were achieving hunting rights like she and her brothers.
She’d only been granted hunting rights at last year’s Iris Festival, which had elevated her to the same young guardian status as her brothers. The Great Ones taught the rainbow serpents were cheating the Path of the Heart, but Wu Zhao and most of the young guardians wondered if that was true. Ao Shun claimed their destiny was to travel the stars, that the elders had abandoned the Enlightened Paths when they chose to settle on Faery instead.
“You’re late,” her mother, a black like Wu Fei, hissed as she and her brothers settled on the host ledge. Her father growled at them to remain still, his whiskers stiff with displeasure. His scales were as crimson as Wu Zhao’s.
Wu Zhao wiggled close to her mother and whispered, “What’s the news?”
“Everyone’s muttering about Ao Shun. The Great Ones are conferring if there is any way to prevent him from speaking.”
“But he is the First Ascendant!” said Wu Zhao, a little louder than she meant. Several nearby dragons glanced in their direction and her father hissed again. She realized the young guardians appeared confused or angry while most of the mature dragons looked irritated. It was then she sensed a tension in the cavern she’d never felt before, especially for such a holy festival.
Ao Shun was not merely the First Ascendant—a title of great honor for the dragon who had been an ascendant the longest—he was also the last dragon alive who’d reached ascendancy in the old world, in China. His strength and prowess were as legendary as the scar along his jaw, especially among the young guardians who’d rarely, if ever, seen him.
She snaked her head behind her mother’s long, graceful neck so she could whisper to her father.
“Any news about the faery war?”
“And what do faeries matter to us?” her mother said tersely. Wu Zhao sighed. Her mother always complained her daughter was too interested in the low races, while Father was always harangued by the elders to teach proper decorum. She wished she could be more like Wu Tian, who long ago had learned to not speak about the low races around her parents or any elder.
Before her brothers could respond, a murmur arose, and she realized the First Ceremony had begun, and she joined the Chants of the Elements.
In the spring Wind opens the flowers
In the autumn it blows down the leaves
On the water the waves it rises a thousand feet
And the arms of the tree it slants.
I look for my home across the vastness
A path of fragrant Earth slants upwards
Directing my way to the cave of my heart
Where birds circle round the clear white sand.
Endlessly, without cease, a sun in a tomb
Like a flower the Fire flourishes
With the brightness of the lamp
When I call it surges, surges on.
With the aspect of heaven, the Water is deep
The very gateway to the gods
The grey water flows and swirls
And my heart rides it like the salmon.
Destiny is ours along the path of the Stars
Look up, look down, I linger long
The paths of the gods shared by my wings
The lighting of my way until the last sleep.
As the chant faded away, Wu Zhao sensed a slight disturbance at the cavern entrance but could see nothing. Several other dragons also turned their heads, then quickly settled back for the Chants of the Great Ones.
Wu Fei snuck his head between those of his siblings and whispered, “Do you think that might’ve been an ascended one entering?”
Wu Tian hissed back, “They are all here and all visible.” Wu Zhao knew her older brother meant the ascended Colors.
“Not any of the rainbows.”
“Hush,” she said. To be caught speaking during any of the Chants could mean banishment from the rest of the ceremony and risk not being purified for the following year.
Qinglong the Azure rose and spread his wings, then started the Chant of Compassion. Almost as soon as his husky voice began, the Three Pools of Renewal swirled and the water deepened to a rich dark violet. As she did each year, Wu Zhao watched the waters in an almost hypnotic fascination. By the time of the final chant, all the dragons present would be purified of any transgressions committed in the past year, and all would be at peace with each other. At the back of her mind, however, she remembered the disturbance before the chant had begun.
She remained lost in her thoughts as Zhulong the Vermillion led the Blessing of the Waters. She thought she sensed another commotion after Zhulong spoke, a soft gust of salt air that grazed her face, and could tell from Wu Fei’s eyes that he did as well, but they held their tongues. After Huanglong the Yellow led the Chant of Petitions, however, the next disruption—a soft whish of unseen tails brushing the flagstones—was unmistakable.
“The ascended rainbows are here,” Wu Fei said quietly, but not under his b
reath. Several dragons twisted their necks to glance at the cavern entrance. Nothing could be seen save the blue sky and sparkling whitecaps of the ocean; no hint of shimmer that might reveal the presence of a veiled ascended dragon. Nonetheless, as Bailong the White rose to lead the Chant of Purity and Virtue, the murmurs were audible, whispers that rebounded off the wall, echoing like swarms of gnats. As Bailong began chanting, his deep voice booming louder than the chant required, a battle seemed to brew between the chanting of Bailong and the mature dragons, and the whispers of the young guardians, of whom two words could be distinguished: Ao Shun.
Wu Zhao remained silent, though her brothers’ heads snaked side-by-side and joined the whispers. The words of the Chant of Purity and Virtue washed over her, but there was none of its usual comfort, nor did their meaning register in her mind. Instead, she dwelt on the legend of Ao Shun. She was vaguely aware of the quaver in Bailong’s normally strong voice, and it echoed her own fear of what would happen if the ascended rainbows were indeed here, and if they chose to reveal themselves. To see one was rare, and never at a holy festival where their theology would clash with the Great Ones. But to see as many as seemed to be here, observing her and the other Colors… She shivered as if the great prophesied judgment had come.
She glanced at the cavern entrance once more. If Ao Shun himself should actually appear… Not even the gods caused the elders to speak with such respect and fear. Her father had seen him only twice: the first had been when Wu Zhao was a hatchling, an event he rarely spoke of. The second time, however, had been Wu Tian’s Festival Ascension, when the First Ascendant had openly mocked the Great Ones. Since that event, her father never spoke well of Ao Shun, yet behind his words remained a tone of reverence. She knew her father feared that Ao Shun’s call to travel the stars rather than being entwined in the affairs of Faery were words of truth. If Ao Shun were to appear now, at the Iris Festival, in front of the entire dragon community, and to make that call again, it could split the dragons, for her brothers, as well as most of the other young guardians, would heed his call. Would she heed it as well?
The cavern was suddenly silent save the swirling waters of the Pools and the distant crashing waves of the ocean, and Wu Zhao realized Bailong had concluded his chant. The dragons shifted on their roosts, stretching uncomfortably before the final chant. Then the murmuring began and Wu Zhao stiffened. The Chants were accomplishing nothing. Tension was growing, not dissipating. She sensed fear in her parents and anticipation in her brothers. Glancing about, she quickly realized it was the same with every family.
As Xuanlong the Black rose to lead the final chant, the Chant of the Mystic Waters, it happened. The air at the edges of the cavern glistened. No one murmured now, and Xuanlong froze in place, his wings spread partway. The glistening coalesced into distinct twinklings, at least two score on all sides. Then, suddenly, the twinklings were rainbow dragons: the hong of Ao Shun. A collective gasp from the assembled Colors broke the silence, wonderment in the eyes of all, even the Great Ones. Among all five of the Colors, there were no more than a score of ascendant dragons, and most were old and hoary, yet around them were at least twice that many ascendant dragons of just one hong. They were all young, some as young as her. At that moment, she knew the truth; Ao Shun was right about the dragons’ destiny and the true Paths of the Heart. If he showed himself today and called upon them to forsake the ways of the elders, she knew she would follow.
Hesitant, Xuanlong began the Chant of the Mystic Waters. The rainbows were silent and still like sentinels, their eyes watching the proceedings but revealing nothing: not arrogance, respect, or even wonder. Maybe expectancy¸ she thought.
The final change of the pools was the most dramatic and had always fascinated her; she was oblivious to it now, her eyes darting to each dragon in Ao Shun’s hong. The Great One’s warbling chant, echoed by her parents and the other adults, was but a gurgling brook to her ears. She was vaguely aware her brothers were likewise staring at the rainbows.
It was hard not to. The hong were nearly a race apart. Their bodies were lengthier and more narrow than the Colors, with tails up to twice as long. Their heads had fewer ridges and their eyes rounder. It was no wonder the adults called them serpents rather than dragons. Wu Zhao stared at them in awe, for she had seen maybe a half dozen in her entire life, and here were forty or fifty, each an ascendant.
She wasn’t aware of the chant ending, so the final flare of the pools startled her. She glanced briefly at the spectacular orange-pink flame, its brilliance barely registering in her mind. Then the rainbows stirred, rising as one and turning their heads towards the cavern entrance with a slight deferential lowering of their eyes. Every Color in the cavern followed their gaze.
The air at the entrance glistened before coalescing into a long, ancient rainbow dragon. Other than the dullness of his scales there was no hint of infirmity in his lean body. His muscles rippled as he marched down towards the Three Pools without hesitation. The thick scar running the length of his jaw was stark white. Ao Shun had arrived.
Other than the click of his claws on the smooth stone floor and the swish of his lengthy tail sliding across the worn pavement, it was completely silent. Even the smallest dragon knew this was a historic moment. Wu Zhao could sense an air of utter confidence exuding from the fabled rainbow leader. His scarred face looked straight at the Great Ones where they stood at the bottom of the bowl by the pools, then turned to glance up at the highest roost where the other ascendants of the Colors perched, gazing at them with the patience of a disapproving parent.
As he reached the pools, the Great Ones bowed deferentially, followed by all the Colors, but she could see that, despite the humbleness of their bodies, their eyes blazed with anger.
“Great Ones,” Ao Shun finally said, his voice rich, if gravelly with age. “Ascendants,” he nodded to the oldest dragons and then to his fellow rainbows.
“First Ascendant, we are honored,” echoed the entire assembly.
For a moment, she was surprised at his lack of recognition of the other elders before recalling Ao Shun did not observe any level but ascendant. That surprise disappeared when he spoke again as she found herself being swept up by the magnetism of his voice as well as his presence.
“Please, finish the ceremony. Our business cannot be done until you do.”
He had clearly caught the Great Ones off guard. “It…it can wait, First Ascendant,” muttered Xuanlong.
This time, Ao Shun’s voice was commanding. “Finish the ceremony.”
After a few moments’ hesitation, the Great Ones rose and spread their wings. Ao Shun followed suit, and once he did, the remainder of the assembly did so as well. The Great Ones appeared heartened by Ao Shun’s show of respect and began the final chant.
There is one path for our wings to take
The water’s surface is flattened
Remnants of sun ribbon the river
The way is clear for enlightened eyes
On and on past the setting sun
Fly the fears of our past
Sureness emerges like the sky and sea
Peace leaps with our hearts
As the assembly’s voices echoed the final line, the pools suddenly swirled, hissed, then stilled and grew clear once more. A gentle mist filled the air of the entire cavern for several seconds and Wu Zhao felt a great sense of relief, a lifting of a weighty burden off her back. A peace and calm filled the assembly. The Iris Festival was complete and, despite the appearance of Ao Shun and his hong, the world of Faery would be as it should be for another year.
Qinglong then called out, “Will the candidates for ascendant, mature, and young guardian come to the pools.”
“Not yet, Great One,” boomed Ao Shun. “We have business first. Conduct it faithfully and you may call forth your candidates.”
The uproar rebounded off the cavern, a retort as sharp as an ice cliff shattering and collapsing into the ocean. Never had she heard such an interruption. Voices rose in
disbelief and tempers flared. Even though candidates for mature—or second adulthood—were rare, and for elder—or ascendant—almost unheard of, there were always candidates for young guardian, the ritual of first adulthood that bestowed hunting rights.
“Did you hear his words?” her mother said quietly. Her voice was shaky and fearful, so much so that all three of her children turned to her. “He’s all but accused the Great Ones of unfaithfulness. Of sin.”
A rush of whispers raced through the cavern, followed by a silence punctuated only by the ocean’s distant roar. Wu Zhao could feel the fear of that word, for a sin by the Great Ones was a sin by all who were deemed mature and allowed to have a family.
In the tense silence, Xuanlong spoke, his voice tentative. “Of what business do you speak, First Ascendant?”
Ao Shun spoke quietly, but his voice carried throughout the cavern. “The Great Ones have met with Finaarva.” All the dragons tensed at the mention of the villainous faery’s name.
Bailong chuckled. “We meet with many of the low races, as is proper for the leaders of the greatest race.”
“This is our home,” said Zhulong, “not your stars. Stay to your path. Ours will remain the Path of the Heart.”
Ao Shun remained gentle, but unaffected. “The Great Ones have met with Finaarva.”
She could sense the impatience in the Great Ones. However, there was worry in her parents’ faces, and Wu Tian’s as well. Though she knew little of the low races, Finaarva’s name was synonymous with wickedness and fell deeds. To meet with him could be seen as acknowledgment of him as rightful king of the faeries, rather than Oberon mac Lir.
That would be a betrayal. Not merely of Oberon, but of all the dragons of the Cavern of the Ancestors, for only Ao Shun and his hong had entered the faeries’ war, and that on the side of King mac Lir. Those who followed the Path of the Heart had foresworn war of any sort.
Blood of the Dragon Page 3
