Dragon Clan: In The Beginning

by LeRoy Clary

  Sunset had once said that there is a time for planning and a time for doing. It was not the saying that impressed Seth. It was that he had learned so many things from Sunset in a matter of a few days.

  He threw a leg over the side and wrapped the rope around it, hooking his foot in a loop to hold it in place. He’d tried sliding down a rope once before, and the burns to his hands took weeks to heal. He shifted his hips to ease over the side, but struck an object. He looked back in the nest and found the little dragon rubbing against his leg, again.

  “You can’t do this to me,” he shouted at Sunset loud enough to send a small flock of birds into the air.

  Bringing his leg back inside, he looked down at the remains of a few strips of skin he hadn’t used. “Sorry, young one, but I have to do this.”

  The image of the little dragon getting scared and clawing him on the way down worried him. He tied the mouth, and sharp teeth shut and wrapped the strip behind the dragon’s head a few times, just to make sure it didn’t get loose. Then he tied the forelegs and hind legs. He expected the dragon to fight and claw at being restrained, but instead, it trusted him to do what was needed, as most young do with their mothers. He pulled his shirt off and placed the dragon inside before wrapping it securely. Then he tied strips around the shirt and one woven piece behind his neck, so he carried it like a bundle.

  Standing, he adjusted the small creature on his stomach. It if had weighed much more than a large chicken he wouldn’t have risked carrying it. “If I can’t make it down carrying you, I suppose I wouldn’t make it anyhow.”

  His words sounded like lies. Before he might change his mind, he went to the rope again. It had now become full-dark, but any hesitation would kill him. He shrugged off the cold on his bare upper body and twisted the rope around his leg again.

  This time, he moved smoothly over the edge and the rope held. He breathed a sigh of relief. Half his confidence came from telling himself it would hold. The other half refused to believe it. The rope took up the weight of his body, and the slippery surface helped as he went down, hand under hand. He counted the knots joining each length to the next, expecting each of the knots to fail, or the rope to break at any time. If either happened, he swore he’d blame Sunset on the way down. The thought made him smile and grip the rope tighter.

  The little dragon sounded asleep from the soft breathing he heard. It didn’t move or protest. He slid down eight lengths, then nine. He only had one more length and could not see the ground. He went slower, feeling his way in the gloom and hoping to touch the ground at any time.

  His leg slipped free. It had reached the bottom of the rope. He worked his way back up and used his leg to wrap around the rope again and take the pressure off his arms. Shifting his weight, he managed to pull his knife free.

  The night was quiet, the breeze soft. He listened as he let the knife fall. Almost right away it tinkled as it struck the rock below. He might live.

  Seth worked his way down again, and when the rope came free of his leg again, he continued to the very bottom and allowed his arms to stretch out as far as they would reach. His toes did not touch the ground. “Here I come, Sunset.”

  His clenched fingers refused to release. Releasing might mean death. He tried again. But they soon grew tired, and let go by themselves. Seth fell. His bent knees collapsed, he fell forward, and he hit the ground face first. But he was on the ground! Alive!

  The darkness was intense. Clouds obscured the stars. The moon was not yet out. Feeling around with his hands, he lay in a heap of rocks and boulders. The littered remains of what had fallen from above over countless years spread around him. Walking on it in the dark could cause him to fall, and getting a twisted ankle, or broken leg.

  He removed his shirt from the dragon, but kept the animal tied. Wearing the shirt helped some, but as he sat and dozed with his arms wrapped around himself, he woke shivering. Pulling the baby chick closer to him for warmth, he cried in thankfulness, pain, and joy. Then he managed to sleep again.

  When he woke again, the stars were out, as was the moon. While only a half-moon, he could see well enough to crawl from rock to rock, moving away from the cliff face. Moving helped keep him warmer.

  Without warning, he felt the soft ground under his hand. Reaching ahead, he felt the trunk of a tree. He didn’t dare stand. Crawling felt safer. The cold seeped into him, and he shivered uncontrollably.

  “I made it down. I can’t die now,” he said. He pulled the bundle containing the protesting dragon and wished he had the broken knife back so he could cut the bindings. His numb fingers didn’t help, so it stayed tied. But that didn’t quiet the moans and cries.

  At the base of a large tree, he crawled through dried leaves. Scooping them into a pile, he burrowed inside, hoping his body would provide enough heat to warm him and the dragon. It may have helped, but the shivering continued. His teeth chattered. He curled up, his knees pulled to his chin, the chick held inside the space, next to his middle.

  A bird chirped. He heard another answer, then a third. That was a jay, he was certain. Most birds hunt during the day, including jays. He threw his arms wide and tossed the leaves into the air while standing. It was morning. Seth grabbed the dragon and stumbled, still shivering, for a patch of sunlight.

  He found a meadow. The grass had frozen dew, turning the green into a field of sparkles, but a small stream flowed down one side. Seth fell forward, and his face went into water, cold enough to almost freeze solid. He slurped until his thirst slackened, then he fell onto his back, arms and legs splayed to the sun. The early morning sun held little warmth, but it was enough to make him stop shivering. He wanted to sleep.

  The dragon meowed. After crawling to it, Seth managed to get the ties removed with his numb fingers. The dragon ran to his side and held its mouth open.

  “You and me, too,” he said.

  Weak, cold, and happy to be alive, Seth looked up to the mountain and found the nest. A constant flurry of birds circled, landed, screeched, and fed. He imagined the number of insects that must be there. A thought of the intense stench sent him gagging.

  Not all the stench came from there he realized, as he looked down at himself. Dried mud, blood, and more unthinkable muck covered him. He sat heavily and closed his eyes.

  The dragon chick leaped on his extended legs, drawing his attention to it. It wanted food and insisted Seth fetch it. “Okay, let’s go home.”

  The caves had to be behind the corner of the mountain out of sight, but the high valley filled with animals would be straight ahead. Once there, the travel would become easy. No trees, warmer sun, animal paths to follow, all of which would be downhill.

  He shuffled along, feet dragging. Last night he’d gotten little sleep, filled with bad dreams. The cold and shivering had sucked his strength and energy. Laying down and dying seemed easier than walking.

  The dragon raced ahead, catching anything that moved in its mouth. It carried a flower for a while, then a stick that must have smelled good as the dragon devoured it. It dug a root and dirt coated its face.

  Seth found the upper end of the valley. Two goats watched him with curious eyes. He walked faster, knowing warmth, food, and sleep lay not far ahead. The dragon raced first in one direction and then another, squealing and hissing, searching for food and exploring. The sun warmed them.

  The dragon spotted the two goats and sprinted after them. They stood and watched. One lowered its head. As the dragon ran closer, the goat lowered its head down and charged. It knocked the dragon end over end. Picking itself up, the dragon looked around warily, spotted the goats again, and ran to Seth’s side.

  “Don’t worry. I have food in the smoker.”

  The dragon twisted its head to one side as it listened.

  “You heard me. I’ll feed you soon.”

  That seemed to satisfy the dragon. It remained at his side until the caves came into view. The fire in the little smokehouse, he’d thrown together had gone out, of course. But the meat
would be ready. Walking across the field in front of the caves, he wondered what to do first.

  Mind made up, he walked into the cave and built a fire in the kitchen, although the cave generated warmth from the ground. Then he closed the crude woven reed shutter over the window and the other for the door, leaving only a small opening to slip outside. The dragon watched his every move.

  At the smokehouse, he used the iron and flint to relight the fire to finish the smoking. Then he removed two huge pieces of the goat they’d killed and went back inside. He gnawed on one while the dragon devoured the other. The warmth from the stove filled the room and made it feel like summer.

  He hadn’t finished his bench, but the sleeping mat felt as good as any bed ever had. His eyelids closed. He slept until almost dark, then ate again, refueled both fires, and went back to sleep, the dragon at his side.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Waking the next morning, Seth took stock of his situation. He and dragon ate more of the smoked meat. He would have to replenish it with both of them eating from it, but he was alone on an island with winter almost upon him. He needed to plan. Soon, a large bowl of water warmed on the stove. He removed his ragged, filthy clothing and washed from hair to toes. Then he rinsed the clothing and wrung it out. He tossed the foul water and refilled the bowl. He washed them again.

  The dragon raced past and chased a bee. It would learn what to chase and what to leave alone, but Seth laughed and called, “You better hope you don’t catch that. Someone needs to teach you what you need to know.”

  He paused and considered. “I can’t keep calling you dragon. You need a real name, and I’ve just thought of one.”

  The dragon raced back to his side and looked inquisitively at his face.

  Laughing again, Seth said, “I’m going to name you after a good man. His name, least for a while, was Dawn.”

  The dragon looked pleased.

  Seth said, “Dawn. A new beginning, he once told me. It’s a good name for you.” He scratched an itch on his back. The dragon raced off to hunt again, or perhaps to explore the island. The itch diminished as the dragon ran farther and Seth mentally listed all the tasks facing him. The list struck him as endless. I may never reach thirteen-years-old.

  The dragon returned, and so did the itch on his back. He laid his clean clothes out to dry in the sun. Overhead, a dragon of reddish hue flew in the direction of the nest. Seth shivered again, but this time from loathing and not cold.

  He stood near the smokehouse and tossed in more apple wood as the new Dawn stood aside and watched. The old man would be pleased he’d named the dragon after him. He pictured him smiling. His clothing steamed from the heat of the smokehouse. Seth turned them as he would a choice cut of meat over a fire, so they didn’t burn.

  He scratched his back and twisted to look. A line drew his attention. Twisting further, he managed to see other black lines. They itched when Dawn came close. Probably something from the nest.

  A year later, he had grown used to the tingle on his back when his dragon came near, but he also felt the same sensation when other dragons flew near. The tingling lessened as they flew away, but he often looked up to the sky before a dragon came into view, sometimes before Dawn reacted. Dawn grew fast. By the time spring warmed the air, it weighed twice as much as Seth, and by the end of summer, it struggled to enter the cave.

  It learned to fly that summer and to hunt for itself in the fall and winter. Often the dragon left for a full day, but always returned before dark.

  For the following eleven summers, it returned every night. Seth enlarged the entrance to the cave twice. He expected the dragon to fly off one day and find a mate, but it always returned. Thinking about that made Seth consider his situation. If a dragon needed a mate, so did he.

  It had been eleven years without speaking to another. Modoc wouldn’t remember him, probably. But Sunset never answered, and loneliness had increased over time, and Seth wanted someone to answer him back. He wanted a mate, but since none came to the island, he would leave to find one.

  The single item holding him back was Dawn. How would the dragon react if it returned and found Seth missing? They were friends, old friends. He couldn’t pack up and leave, but he thought of it every day.

  Then one evening the dragon didn’t return. It came back the next day, then disappeared for two full days. Seth didn’t know where it went, but he knew the time had come. When Dawn approached, his back tingled and itched. The feelings grew stronger as the dragon came nearer. His reflection in the pond revealed the outline of a dragon. He splashed water on it, and tried to wash it off, but if anything, the image increased in detail.

  The old canoe he had arrive in had rotted long ago, but Seth had tanned hides treated with oils and fat. He had already shaped hardwoods into a frame. He’d even carved a paddle in preparation. He used the evening to stretch, cut, and sew the skins on the frame.

  The following morning Seth carried his supplies to the beach where he had first arrived on the island and began construction of the boat. Dawn flew over twice, the first day but didn’t return that night. Each time his back reacted the same. The second day, as Seth paddled away from the island and reached open water, Dawn flew over him several times. Each time Seth knew when to look up before the dragon even came into sight because if the image on his back.

  A whole world awaited him, and hopefully, a woman to share it. He imagined himself back on the island in fifty years, his hair white and hanging to his shoulders, his skin as wrinkled as that of his old friend, Sunset. The difference was that in his imagination, Seth had dozens of his family living in the caves, family he thought of as his Dragon Clan.

  The End

  Hopefully, you enjoyed the prequel of the Dragon Clan and will enjoy the rest of the series. The characters change with each book, each book advancing the overall story. Enjoy, and please leave a review at: https://www.amazon.com/Dragon-Clan-Beginning-LeRoy-Clary-ebook/dp/B01JDKLBIC/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1487541561&sr=8-8&keywords=leroy+clary

  —LeRoy Clary

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  LeRoy Clary

  I have never met a dragon. Never even seen one. But wish I had. They fascinate me, so I decided to construct a mental world where they coexist with people. Most of my books are about them, and I call the people the Dragon Clan.

  A book called DRAGON! started it. While similar to the Dragon Clan Series, it set up the idea of how to live and survive in a world where dragons are part of the landscape without resorting to cartoonish dragons or creatures as intelligent and conniving as people. The next hurdle was to keep the stories coming fast enough to satisfy the readers.

  The book called the Blade of Lies was a finalist in an Amazon national novel writer’s contest, although under another name. It survives with humor, a medieval setting, and the idea that good guys do win. It is worth the read.

  I've done a bit of everything before retiring from teaching high school math and special education. Before that I served in the US Navy, I worked in the electronics field as a technician, supervisor, and owner of a telecom business. I earned my papers as a sea captain for sailboats and motor craft, all of which gives me the background to write books about dragons.

  Now that I have the time . . . I write. Every day. I'm writing about the Dragon Clan now, a series of interrelated books and characters. Each book is about them, but centers on one or two characters. They often meet each other in different books.

  AUTHOR’S NOTES

  If you have any comments or suggestions—good or bad—or anything else to say, please feel free to contact me at my personal email leroy.clary@gmail.com I respond to all emails and hope to continue that trend. I love the comments, and, at least, one future book is because of an email exchange with a fan.

  Please return to Amazon Kindle where you purchased this book and give me a review, I will appreciate it. Simply scroll down to the bottom of the page. The only way for others to learn if readers like a book are from reviewers like you.
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