by Karine Green
The Great Losing
The Mad Dragon King
By
Karine Green
Copyright © 2013 Karine Green
Ebook Edition: ISBN- 978-0-9890597-9-4
Cover Art: Fernando Cortes - http://www.shutterstock.com/gallery-331360p1.html?searchterm=dragon
Ebook Copyright and Disclaimer
THE GREAT LOSING: THE MAD DRAGON KING
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the written permission of Karine Green, except where permitted by law. This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, living or dead is a coincidence. This is a complete fabrication of the author's imagination, along with liberal use of literary license to fill the gaps. Please enjoy this work of fiction. The cover art was supplied by Amazon’s cover creator software
DEDICATION
Dedicated to the fairytale of the Four Dragons who transformed into the four great rivers to give the people life
Quote from the Four Dragons
“The Jade Emperor was enraged, and ordered the heavenly generals and their troops to arrest the four dragons. Being far outnumbered, the four dragons could not defend themselves, and they were soon arrested and brought back to the heavenly palace.”
Contents
The Air Dragon
The Earth Dragon
The Water Dragon
The Red Dragon
Santarini and Sarnia
Dunia and Blue
The Great Dragon Lady
The Forgotteness Blessing
Friend or Foe
The Dragon Capitol
The Red Wizard
The Great Remembering
Dunia’s Burrowing
A Rider for Mack
Blue’s Decision
Arlen’s Great Escape
The Rise of the Mad King
The Water Minister
An Earth Education isn’t that Useless
The Blood King’s Book
The Healing Pool
The Bow Problem
Attack of the Balloons
Blue’s Notes
Arlen’s Loss
The White Witch
Pumice Plains
Water and Fire
Training the Dragon Trainer
New Rule: No Eating Humans
Journey to the Endless Sea
The Alignment of Four
The Dragon Hoard
Operation Katrina
Operation Jericho
Which Witch
Rider Down
The Mad King
The Blood King Rising
The Air Dragon
Timothy Makani wandered around his campsite trying not to panic, lost somewhere in the vast forest of Northern California. He ran his fingers through his bleach-blond hair. He couldn't believe he had been left behind again. He must have been the most forgettable person ever born. Only this time, Mack had no real way out. He would have to walk. The only problem; it would take hours to walk to the main road.
"Some nineteenth birthday," he sighed as a breeze blew through the trees.
He and his circle of so-called friends had come camping to celebrate his birthday as well as finishing his Freshman year at Cal Tech.
He looked up at the trees. They seemed so perfect and still. He sighed again, propping his hands on his waist. A gentle breeze blew through the treetops. The leaves appeared to be twinkling in the sunshine. If not for being left alone in the woods, it would have been a perfect day.
"I knew this would happen. It always does. Why did I even agree to come?"
His silvery blue eyes searched the far edge of the campsite road for signs a dust cloud would rise in the distance as they returned for him. “Surely someone had stopped to pee before now. They would have pulled over, done a headcount, and come back for me."
The road, however, showed no hint that anyone was returning.
Even worse than that – all of his camping gear was in one of the SUVs. While packing, he’d tossed his smaller bag, his jacket, tablet and phone onto the seat he’d intended to ride in, which meant he had nothing but his clothes. If he had only asked someone to come with him to double check the campfire was out he was sure this would not have happened.
He smirked. "Now here’s a scenario for one of those survival shows. Mack survives with only the canvas on his Van's," he said, aloud, as he wiggled his toes in his shoes.
He flopped down on the ground. He looked at the sky. The sun would be down by the time he reached the main road. If the warm day and cold night weather pattern repeated itself then it would get cold once the Sun hit the horizon.
He stood up, looking down at his shoes. "At least, you'll be comfortable for that twelve-hour walk." He shook his head as something sank in. "No, it was a twelve-hour drive. My trek will be days. What do you think shoes? Are you up for it?" He kicked the ground, enjoying the sun on his face for a moment as he absorbed that he was in for a long hike, possibly a long cold one. He started walking. Maybe it wouldn’t be as cold at the lower elevation.
He thought about his last year in high school as he started down the little trail road. He considered himself lucky to have made it into Cal-Tech. His college applications had been lost, and not to just one school, but to four. He’d learned the hard way to keep deadline dates and develop a good follow-up policy long ago.
"Yup, that policy worked so well that I lulled myself into a false sense of security." He flipped a hand out to the side, batting at the air. "This is just like in high school, when the lunch lady always ran out of food just as I was coming up in line. It was almost like she’d forgotten to put that last scoop of potatoes into the tray as she prepped the buffet." He slapped at the air with his other hand. "Or, like when checking out at stores, how the cashier always needs to get change for the drawer, though I'm paying with a debit card and don’t need change," he said, nearly yelling now. "It’s like the whole stupid universe wants to teach me patience by making me senselessly wait for anything and everything."
He had lived with foster parents, Fran and Ed since he was five. They’d tried to adopt him twice, but the paperwork had been lost both times. In fifth grade, his school had taken a trip to the San Diego Zoo. He had been forgotten. Fran and Ed had to drive two and a half hours to come pick him up. If he went to the library, he could count on being forgotten. He would just curl up in the corner with a decent book, usually about religion or history, and wait until the librarian called Fran or Ed to come get him.
"Just let the frustration drain out, Mack. Think about your books."
He’d read books on religions and wars. If it existed he would seek it out to discover what people believed about it, or why they believed it. Some of the things he’d researched he thought to be downright crazy. Other things were soundly based in logic and holding a society together. He had studied many wars, even ones that did not involve the U.S. Most of them seemed to boil down to resources, or religion; hence his choice of a political science major at Cal-Tech.
Fran had worried about the way he studied war, and how to conduct war all the time. She said it wasn’t healthy for him. He wasn’t a fighter or war monger, but something about why wars start, and how they end fascinated him. There never truly seemed to be a victory in the sense of gaining what was sought after. To him, wars should be called Great Losings, because unless a nation is fending off an attack, then nothing seems gained as much as wiped out by war. Even the victors permanently lost the society they’d once been.
It seemed more a matter of deciding whether or no
t the war was worth the loss.
He distracted himself with a little self-lecture as he continued to walk, noticing but ignoring the narrowing road.
"Freedom is also like a fine lady. Treat her well and she will stand steadfastly by your side, treat her poorly and she will leave you with only bitter memories of her loving embrace to keep you warm and astronomical child-support payments that ruin your quality of life causing you to be left in the wilderness."
He frowned at the road as reality slipped back into his thoughts. The trees created a tunnel over the narrow dirt road. Too bad he didn’t have his phone to take a photo. He sighed and stared up at the beautiful blue sky as the sunlight twinkled through another breeze. Too bad he couldn't fly. Perhaps he would die here of hypothermia once the sun went down? Or, perhaps he should start concentrating on what he could control, and begin walking to a lower elevation faster before it gets too late, too dark, and too cold? Maybe he would run into some people who would let him use their phone.
He picked up the pace, but the vegetation was becoming thicker, forcing him to slow down as he moved branches out of the way. "Um, I know they had to come this way. There is only one trail-road. It's not like I’m stranded at the 105 interchange. Now, there would be a situation I could get out of in less than an hour." He rolled his eyes, “Okay, maybe two hours.”
He shoved a little twiggy tree out of the way, only to be met by another. "Are you kidding me?" There was no way the SUV’s, four-wheel drive or not, could have driven through this. This showed no signs of anyone having been around in a long time, let alone vehicles driving through it three hours ago. "Great! Now the woods are forgetting me too," he said, getting frustrated, again.
He took in a deep breath. "All trails lead somewhere, otherwise, it wouldn't be a trail. The part that worries me is whether it leads to where I want to go. Will I see someone out here? What if they’re crazy 'The Hills Have Eyes' people? That would be my luck.” He was sure no one who lived like that would have a phone. “I might get lucky, and they’ll forget me.” He yelled, “Just like everyone else.”
"Finally," he said, shoving a branch out of the way. The so-called road opened to what looked more like a deer trail. He stopped, realizing he must have taken a wrong turn. He knitted his eyebrows, and turned around heading back up the trail-road, which was becoming thicker.
"Oh come on! I just came this way! The road was right there!" Mack yelled at the bushes as he kicked at them. A sudden violent wind blew in and ruffled the bushes and trees. He covered his face to keep the dust out of his eyes.
As suddenly as the wind came, it dissipated. Now the trail was so overgrown it seemed like no deer had walked it in months.
"That isn't possible. The path should still be there; the deer wouldn't abandon their food source without a reason, and even if they had, it would not be overgrown in ten minutes." The last few words trailed off as he fought off a spike of fear. "Just, calm down. You must be panicking, and it is making you see things." He wished he had not packed his compass in his duffel bag.
He swore, getting angry, and hungry. "A Pop-Tart wouldn't hurt at this point either."
The path opened up again, as he carefully stepped over tree roots. He looked up at the sky. "How long?" He had lost track of time. The only thing he knew was that he was traveling downward, and the trees were getting much bigger. He leaned on an enormous tree root. Were these Redwoods? He didn't think so. They looked like gigantic Willow trees.
The ground was unlike anything he had seen. He bent down and looked at it. The soil was black, and there were patches of the greenest moss he had ever seen, which was not saying much since he had only been camping four times in his life; to test theories he’d read in a book about earth based religions.
"Willow-Redwoods," he smiled, enjoying their beauty as another breeze blew the tops of the leaves, this one gentler than the others. "These could be a tourist attraction they are so elegant, and outrageous in height. People would come from all over to see them. I wonder why no one has photographed them." He leaned back to look up at the top of the billowing, enormous branches cascading its long branches down. They gently swept the ground in the breeze.
His stomach rumbled.
"Are you hungry?" asked a girlish sounding voice from behind a bush. “And those are called Fire Willows.”
"Thank Heavens," Mack breathed a sigh of relief. "May I use your phone? I seem to have been left behind. I need to call my friends." Another breeze blew the tops of the trees as his eyes searched the area for someone- but he couldn’t see anyone. "What is with the sudden breezes turning off and on like a switch?"
Where was she? Was she afraid of him, and that was why she was hiding? “I won’t hurt you.”
The Earth Dragon
Demi Dunia finished volleyball practice at her Bronx high school. She smiled. At least, the coach didn't forget to put me into the rotation this evening. It was her turn to check the equipment, so she was the last one to get ready for the shower. She was the only one in here. Brittany and Sonya were still in the gym with Coach.
Please, don't forget me, please, don't forget me, she prayed, closing her eyes. She should have insisted Sonya come with her. Please, don’t lock me in here.
The last time she’d been locked in a building was last spring at Macy's. She had been trying on prom dresses. When she came out, the lights were out, and everyone was gone. She had been angry and considered walking out with the dress and makeup, but ultimately didn't. Stealing from them was not a good way to make up for how they’d inconvenienced her. Instead, she got dressed to leave, and as she walked out she discovered the turnstiles were locked. A few minutes later, the police had showed up. She’d flagged them over, and an hour later, an apologetic manager had shown up to let her out. He offered her the make-up case free of charge and the dress for fifty-percent off. She ended up with the staff believing she was the salt of the earth because of the way she’d handled herself.
"Yep, Demi, sweetie," she said to herself as she opened her locker, "Patience and a cool head had paid off in the form of last spring's Prom dress."
She could be angry and bitter about things, but she wasn't. She relished the opportunity to take the time to think things through. She took her uniform off and went into the shower, wondering what she would do about dinner. Her foster parents always forgot to make dinner for her on practice nights, kind of like they didn’t expect her to come home.
"Perhaps there'll be some peanut butter and jelly left," she said, setting her stuff down by the shower. "Now here's a bonus for being last." She walked over to her favorite shower and turned the knob. "Yes, you are closer to the water heater, aren't you?" She stepped into the warm water, closing her eyes and allowing the water to clean the sweat off.
Her foster parents weren't the best. Linda and Mike were the eighth set she’d had since she was five. None would have won parent of the year awards. They had not been abusive. They just seemed to forget her all the time. This had caused issues with the Child Welfare people. Linda had to leave sticky notes on the refrigerator reminding her that lunches needed to be provided, or that school was out and she needed to meet Demi at the bus stop.
Demi smiled, she was nearly nineteen years old, and her current foster mother still wanted to wait for her at the bus stop. She was the only one that seemed to want her, to pay attention to her; to give a damn. "You lucked out, this time, now if they can just remember that you're their foster daughter you'll be all set."
Demi soaped up her puff.
Foster parents weren't the only ones. She’d been booted from the basketball travel team because the bus constantly left without her, leaving her at school, or at the opposing school. She was always accused of missing it on purpose. Once, it had taken Demi four hours to walk home. Thankfully, the weather had been nice that day.
"It’s nonsense. Who willingly makes themselves walk four hours home?" she washed her face, vigorously. “No passes,” she mocked the coaches reasoning for dismissing
her from the team, as she rinsed her face. She was trying to earn her way back onto the team, but at the moment, volleyball was the only sport open to her.
She finished the shower, gathered her shower tray, wrapped a towel around herself, and headed to her locker. She looked at her dark-skinned reflection in the mirror as she passed it. She was a tall, very dark skinned African-American, which made her bright copper eyes stand out beautifully. Once a man even told her she reminded him of the Sudanese supermodel Alex Wek, except for her eyes. She had also been approached by several people about modeling, but they always lost her contact information or forgot to meet her.
There was a loud click and the lights went out.
"Hey, not everyone’s left, Coach," she said, raising her voice. She flopped one arm out to the side in defeat, "Is it a black thing?" She didn't think so. The majority of students were black at her school, and they didn't seem to be forgotten as often as she was.
"Coach!" She walked over to the door to the coaches' office, but when she went through it there was a forest. She turned to go back to the door but faced a tall rocky-sheer cliff about six hundred feet straight up. The door was gone.
The Water Dragon
Wayne Arlen admired himself in the mirror. He was a good looking young man, and he knew it. Not only that, but he thoroughly enjoyed taking advantage of his general good looks, such as getting girls, sweettalking teachers, or negotiating a raise with a wink of the eye. He finished styling his dark brown, almost black hair, and got dressed in the designer clothes he bought with his pizza delivery money.
He smiled and winked a dark blue eye at himself, as he walked out of his bedroom. His eyes were an unusually dark shade of blue; some people even teased him, calling him "Navy Blue" because of them. They were so unique that one school counselor had even tried to talk him into removing his colored contact lenses and accepting his own eyes.
He had huffed and walked out of her office. He frowned at the memory of her. Nothing he could do was good enough for her. She had been mad at his refusal, stating, “Fine Wayne, we will just have to make an adjustment to a home with reasonable people who will not buy you such petty things."
