Blood of the Dragon

by Jay D Pearson

  “Wait,” said Ao Shun. “When did we decide it would be Earth that we would send the Sluagh Sidhe to?”

  “Where else could it be?” Oberon raised a hand to forestall Ao Shun. “We can debate, and I’m sure you know many possible worlds, but we know the great magic places of Earth, and there is one place in particular that is far from both Eire and China, isolated with a strength in its trees to keep Finaarva from repeating his evil. The mountains are young and there are waters of great power: lake, river, and ocean. There are Spirits there as well, ancient powers of the earth. The Old Ones I think you called them. Bear, Wolf, Whale, and Raven are among the greatest, and there are others. They will keep the Sluagh Sidhe in check.”

  “But we cannot put them near humans. Is there such a place?”

  Oberon nodded. “On the west coast of the great continent that lies across the ocean from China. There are—or were when we left—very few people in that part of the world, just a handful of clans. No cities or other centers of power exist to weaken the magic. It is a land of the Old Ones; neither faeries nor dragons have ever been able to live there.”

  “How then can we imprison the Sluagh Sidhe there?”

  “When I was young, my father sent me to visit the Old Ones, to sit at their feet and listen to their wisdom. Their home is vast. On the side of Mt. Sun-a-do—the heart of their realm—there is a valley where the cliffs are high and steep on three sides, and a waterfall has delved a deep pool so that the land’s magic is rich and stronger than any faery. The trees have boles of mighty girth with great beards of lichen, and the river flowing from the pool is swift, cold, and clear.”

  Ao Shun nodded sagely. “A place of great magic indeed. But is it enough for a single dragon to seal it so humans could never find entrance, nor the Sluagh Sidhe escape?”

  “Ten thousand years might pass and the magic would still hold.” Oberon turned to Wu Zhao. “But a caution to you,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “No magic can completely contain the faeries. Changelings especially can find a path out and, when they do, they will hunt you. You must be vigilant always. Seek out the Old Ones and plead for their aid. Do you understand?”

  Wu Zhao shook her head. “I’m sorry, your majesty. I didn’t follow half of what you said.”

  The king stared at her for a few moments before turning back to the First Ascendant. “I am sorry. I never truly comprehended how lacking in knowledge the colors were, despite what you told me.”

  “It could be a strength; the fear will certainly be less.”

  As they spoke about her like she wasn’t there, her head swung back and forth, trying to make sense of all this talk of old ones and magical valleys. The confusion must have been obvious on her face, for Ao Shun said gently, “Don’t fret, my young warrior. We will explain enough for you to do what must be done, and for you to survive in the human world. We once lived there, you know. For now, go and say your final goodbyes, whether to the living or the dead. Oberon and I must prepare the magic so when the Dragon Pearl is remade, it will fulfill its purpose.”

  “The rest of you go as well,” said Oberon to the other dragons and faeries. “What the First Ascendant and I do now requires that you make sure we are not disturbed.”

  Chapter 17

  The Dragon

  The sheer number of dragons and faeries who crowded around the grassy clearing of the Orgá Vale the following night astonished her. Many more crammed the sides of the path from the woods she’d been forced to walk through to reach the clearing, as the glade was unsafe to land in due to the volume of beings. It was no longer just the two armies; it seemed every faery in Tir-nam-beo had come to see the spectacle, and every dragon wanted to offer a blessing.

  The day had been a blur. Ao Shun and Oberon had both spent hours with her, cramming her head with every tidbit of random knowledge about the old world they could pull out of their memories. She had a general plan now: find the Old Ones then travel to China. Beyond that, she need only make sure the valley where the Sluagh Sidhe would be imprisoned remained secure and hunt down any faery who escaped.

  The king had helped her learn how to shape shift until she could adopt a reasonable facsimile of faeries. Humans were similar enough, he said—slightly taller, rounded ears, and most notably, no wings—that she should be able to adapt if she simply hid and observed. The process of reshaping her body was excruciating the first couple of times, and she especially struggled with getting size ratios correct in a faery-sized body that was but a fraction of a dragon.

  By mid-afternoon, she’d learned how to get her arms and legs right, including the proper number of fingers and toes, but her ears still looked like those of oversized bats and her eyes were no bigger than peas. Having to focus on altering so many components of her body at once was a difficult process and, if a part of her settled into a flawed shape, painful to force into the proper form. However, once a finger or her nose was correct and settled, it stayed that way while she worked on other elements.

  Ao Shun had only briefly described her part of the ritual, then sent her out with a hong to first spy on the Sluagh Sidhe, and then to hunt. It was not a pleasant flight, as the rest of the hong took great pains to keep her well out of range of the faeries so about all she could really see was the gaping scar the fire had left across the middle of Bruagh-na-Boyne. Hunting was not any better, as every dragon competed to see who could bring her the fattest goat rather than allowing her the joy of killing her own prey. By the time she finally sunk her teeth into the hindquarters of a large buck, the meat seemed to have lost its savor. Only the need for a full belly that Ao Shun had impressed upon her kept her from abandoning her final meal.

  Dusk had fallen by the time they had reached the Orgá Vale, and the golden daffodils of the valley appeared grey in the fading light. As she had landed, every dragon in the vicinity had bowed to her, and she had hurried to the solitude of the copse where Ao Shun and Oberon had trained her that morning. The trees were too dense for her to pace, so she had curled up, trying to recall all she’d been told, but drifted into a light sleep instead.

  When Ao Shun had awakened her, stars brightened the black sky.

  “Wu Zhao. It is time. Are you still willing to do this?”

  She glared at him before remembering he was the First Ascendant. Looking into his large eyes, she realized how old he must be. His scales had no luster and the tips of his whiskers drooped. The immensity of their age difference struck her; she was barely a century old and he had lived more than three millennia. Her anger dissipated and she bowed reverently.

  “I am willing, First Ascendant,” she answered softly.

  Ao Shun rested an arm on her shoulders.

  “I am as proud of you as I have been of any dragon I have known, Wu Zhao, including my grandfather. Heed my final advice to you: allow your rage to guide your justice, but do not let it rule your life. Though none in the old world or this world will know your deeds, bring honor to all dragons.”

  He patted her shoulders and began to leave the copse.

  “First Ascendant, thank you,” she called to him.

  He looked back at her and nodded. “Follow when you are ready, Wu Zhao. You and I shall not speak again after today, even should you somehow find your way back to Faery.”

  The moment he left, loneliness swept over her, but that only reignited her rage.

  I am the dragon who brings justice to the evil one. I am the dragon who will save her people.

  Taking a deep breath, she strode out of the copse, her head high and her wings folded tightly.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The march was surreal; it seemed everyone wanted to see her: the dragon who was sacrificing her life for theirs.

  Faeries fluttered in and out, a shifting myriad of faces, all seeking a glimpse. Dragons held their places, solemn nods from most, brief whispered blessings from the few she knew well. The procession seemed to last forever, but when she finally stepped into the clearing, it felt as if only a moment had passed.


  Ao Shun and King Oberon mac Lir awaited her in the center of the faery circle. The First Ascendant held a round, pearlescent stone as large as Oberon’s head. She kept her focus on it, the legendary Dragon Pearl, allowing the spectators to blur into the background. Once again, her nerves threatened to overwhelm her. Once again, she deliberately allowed the pain of her family’s deaths to rule her emotions. Rage flooded her, releasing the adrenaline that was providing the courage she needed.

  The pain will be brief, but the vengeance will be lasting, she thought, Ao Shun’s words echoing in her mind. Only now, the promise of vengeance felt cold. All she had to look forward to was the occasional hunt of a changeling. Would she ever know any kind of love again, let alone companionship? She had willingly accepted this doom to avenge the murders of her family, but would the hunt be enough to sustain her?

  As she took her final steps, the memory of a recent chat with Ao Shun returned. He had cautioned her after the first time she’d been frustrated in her leadership role.

  “Wu Zhao,” he had said in his deep, gravelly voice. “To lead others is to know loneliness. I have had no one to share my full burden with for centuries, not even Oberon. I can share a portion with you, but I cannot share all. Yet I know someone must do this so others can live lives of peace.”

  “But what makes you so strong?” she had asked. His response had startled her, less from the words than from the frailty that came through in his brief answer.

  “We are dragons, Wu Zhao. We must be strong. Who else is there?”

  His answer had quieted her, and now it returned like a lifeline thrown to save her. She latched onto it, for it was all she had as the terror of what lay beyond the initial act threatened yet again to engulf her. Could she be strong like Ao Shun? Could she, a lone dragon, protect this Earth she knew only through tales?

  Now she stood in front of Ao Shun and King Oberon, her sight glued to the stone, its sheen hypnotic. She’d lived her whole life enjoying the legend; to learn it was real had been enough of a shock. Actually seeing the Dragon Pearl transcended the moment; it grew in her vision, diminishing all else. The clearing was silent; not even the nocturnal whirrings of insects or the soft whish of a breeze through the trees could be heard. The scent of the daffodils was sharp, and she was certain she could tell the difference between one flower and the next.

  A sudden wall of blue flames sprang up just inside the circle of mushrooms, separating Wu Zhao and the two leaders from those observing, and her senses snapped to normal. There was no other ceremony; she realized all rituals had preceded her entrance into the clearing.

  “Extend your foot, Wu Zhao,” rumbled Ao Shun. She complied by raising her front right leg. This would be the part of pain and her body tensed of its own accord.

  Oberon uttered something in the faery tongue, but the words were lost to her. Then he unsheathed a long, narrow dagger and traced the center of her foot with the sharp tip. A thin line of scarlet emerged. Her blood glistened darkly in the light of the blue flames, barely distinguishable from her crimson scales. The king and Ao Shun both murmured a verse of the spell, but she did not recognize the languages. A roar built deep in her ears. She wondered if it was the magic beginning to work, or just her fear. Then she glanced at her foot, realizing the king had cut it a second time, but deeper, so that the blade was red with her blood.

  As the roar became pain, Oberon turned the dagger on himself, slicing his own palm until their comingled blood enveloped the knife like a gory sheath.

  Ao Shun offered the Dragon Pearl to the faery, who plunged the blade into the stone. Instead of breaking, the knife seemed to be sucked into shiny white rock. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the sheen of the stone died, and it looked like nothing more than a chunk of white granite.

  Suddenly, the stone began to glow, a rich luster that quickly filled not just the faery circle, but, she was certain, the entire Orgá Vale. Then Oberon yanked the blade out, and Ao Shun lifted the Dragon Pearl up. The light was sucked back in until only the stone itself glowed, the light swirling inside as if it boiled.

  “Behold, the Lóngzhū,” announced the First Ascendant. As he did so, a crimson mist floated within the roiling light, rising up like a fog from the ocean, and finally coalescing into a translucent halo around the Dragon Pearl.

  It’s alive, she thought in surprise. Before she could pursue that thought, however, Ao Shun spoke. Again she did not understand the words, but her foot burned as if seared, and she staggered. She stared at the stone, realizing she was somehow now connected to it.

  Ao Shun and Oberon both chanted several verses. There was a rhythm to their words, of which she recognized only the names ‘Finaarva’ and ‘Sluagh Sidhe.’

  Suddenly, the flames inside the circle mutated from blue to a bright emerald green. The flames lifted from the ground in a slow spiraling wheel, rotating at first parallel to the clearing then—as the spinning increased speed—the circle of fire contracted and spun until it was perpendicular and just wide enough for a dragon to pass through, but only with wings drawn in.

  “Kai fang!” shouted Ao Shun. Instantly, as Wu Zhao looked through the fire, the glade disappeared and a new place appeared. It was daytime in this place. The forest visible through the circle was ancient, the trunks immense in girth and hoary with lichen. A heavy dampness seemed to pervade the other forest, a thick mist visible even through the wheel of green fire.

  “The spell is all but complete, Wu Zhao,” uttered Ao Shun, and she turned to face him. His golden eyes were fuller of compassion than she’d ever seen. “You see our ancient home world. It only awaits you to step through.”

  “The spell will hold for a while,” said Oberon, his voice gentle. “You need not rush through.”

  “Take this,” Ao Shun commanded, holding out the Dragon Pearl to her. “With this, Finaarva and all the Sluagh Sidhe within his glen…”

  “Within Bruagh-na-Boyne,” interrupted Oberon.

  “…will also be pulled through when you step through the circle of fire. Because they go unawares, we do not know what effect the magic will have on them, but you should have the element of surprise. They will be disoriented, yet for how long we don’t know.”

  She reached out, taking the Dragon Pearl. Even though its surface was rough like stone, it was lighter than she’d expected. Then the red halo expanded, encircling her.

  Oberon extended the dagger to her. Its blade shone like new-forged metal. No trace of blood remained. She took it as well, although it was a tiny needle to her.

  “The spell will trap the Sluagh Sidhe within the valley we’ve chosen,” said Ao Shun. “The magic may or may not survive the journey. If the red halo remains, stab the stone with the dagger, and what magic remains will spill out. The stone will die once more, trapping you on Earth, but you’ll be free to travel anywhere in that world.”

  “What if they stop me?”

  “While they are disoriented,” said Oberon, “you will have the advantage. Do not delay; you may only have seconds.”

  “A warning, chosen one,” Ao Shun said. “The stone can be refilled if a new spell is cast. That would allow Finaarva to return here, or into a new world should he so choose. He will need the blood of a dragon to enable the magic, and a willing dragon at that, but we do not know if any dragons remain on Earth. Be wary, for many of the Sluagh Sidhe are changelings, and Finaarva is both crafty and deceitful.”

  “But I am now a changeling, too.”

  “Yes, that will help you, since they don’t know that,” said the king. “However, do not be overconfident. The most powerful changelings will likely escape the magic of their prison for a time and come after you.”

  “For a time?”

  Oberon chuckled. “Finaarva’s own magic, indeed his own wicked nature, forces his changelings to return to his glen every year or lose their magic and turn mortal. The longer they are away, the longer they must stay when they return. All Finaarva’s spells inside his glen will travel with h
im, including that one. It is very fortunate you broke his protective dome, or we would not be able to perform this spell.”

  “When they are able to leave,” said Ao Shun, “It will only be singly or in pairs. Hunt them down, Wu Zhao. Continue your vengeance—our vengeance—over the centuries.” He reached up with his forearms and grasped her. “I know my trust in you is well placed. There is no other dragon—color or rainbow—as capable as you for this. All the hopes of Faery go with you, and the dragons will remember you with great reverence. Farewell.”

  “Farewell,” echoed Oberon.

  She stepped toward the spinning circle of green fire and pulled her wings against her body. A murmur rose among the other dragons and faeries as they realized it was time. She did not look at any of them. Her focus was solely on the other forest as she willed herself to keep moving, not daring to stop. Without a backward glance, she stepped into the circle and was instantly gone from Faery.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Instead of stepping from Faery into Earth, as she expected, Wu Zhao felt as if a giant hand had yanked her into a tunnel dark with mist, a formless gray world that sucked her in then hurtled her through. She had no control of her body; it would suddenly zig one way then zag another, and she quickly grew nauseous. Muffled, terrified screams filled the tunnel and vague gray bodies hurtled through the space around her.

  Other than the tunnel and the sense of speed, her senses felt deadened. There was no heat, no cold. She was barely aware she could smell nothing. No sense of time. Just this awful sameness. She grew numb to the speed, the screams, and especially the grayness.

  At first, when the gray began turning to green, she didn’t realize what was happening. The screams had long since stopped. Then she was aware of water falling, and mist on her skin. The sound of the water grew into a roar. The tunnel’s gray/green void broadened. Shapes gained structure: broad, giant, dark forms that dwarfed her. The moment she realized she had stopped moving, a veil lifted from her eyes. She knew instantly she had arrived in the forest she’d seen through the circle of fire. Enormous trees—cedar, fir, hemlock, and spruce—rose around her, their boles as wide as any five trees on Faery.