by Mark Swaine
The General enjoys noting and naming each of the fish trying to escape the nets of the distant fisherman pulling hard to bring their heavy catch aboard their slim paddle boats and rafts. Sheltered from the heat of midday sun by their conical wicker hats, he watches them toil hard, appreciating their days labour. In his slow wade through the clear cold water, lily pads holding bright pink flowers try to break from the strong embrace of tall crowded reeds as the current flows further downstream. The General always picks one flower for his beloved, and another to lie beside the urn containing the ashes of his late sister. The General feels the serenity in this place, far from his own booming voice. Wading further down the clear refreshing brooks, he'd randomly choose one of many streams breaking into various directions and follow the current under small arched bridges and overhanging Rime trees. But eventually he'd always end up at the very same spot, a flat edged rock overhanging a shaded spot with rays of broken sun penetrating the water with sparkling light. The General rolls his slacks over his knees and lowers them in.
Kept company by the noisy amphibians croaking a song of ignorant comedy, he smiles peacefully as they amuse his secretly playful mind with a show of laziness. Flaunting their life of luxury before him, they fill their big pale bellies with as many flies their long pink tongues can reach. The General ponders upon his Kendo training as he grips an imaginary Katana handle with both hands. The General and Kamui Li were enjoying their sparring sessions, though it isn't evident in their serious composure. Kamui Li was teaching the General everything he knew, and the General sought to master the art of Kendo by learning everything of worth from his instructor. The General observed Kamui's moves closely as they sparred with Katanas in elegant yet brutal displays of striking steel. Training eventually became a guise for the two men, and clashes of steel were soon heard not only in the dojo, but in the courtyard and the bamboo fields also. Kamui Li and General became pillars of inspiration for the Jade army who had also taken well to their Kendo training, but since they are already well acquainted with the Eighteen Arms of Wushu, he wasn't in the least bit surprised.
The Samurai's redemption couldn’t have arrived at a more suitable time, as the festivities marking the year of the dragon had arrived. Time had flown faster than a kite caught in a dragon's tail, and the people of Huanghua city are prepared for the most celebrated time of the year. Nobody even seems to notice the cold finish of day as the first of the whizzing fireworks light the sundown sky. Akio the explosives specialist was ahead of them and has arranged a special show with his own brand of modified fireworks. The semi-armoured young man perched atop the corner of a soaring Pagoda roof had spent all day rigging his rockets. His ingredients of dynamite and magic create heaven bound explosions that are a sight to behold. Sprayed in sparkles and smoke, Akio signals to other Samurai on the adjacent buildings to ignite their tile mounted rockets. As bright flashes of booms and bangs cut through the sky, from that day on the people knew him as “Kamisori no Hikari (Razor Light)”. Below the lantern lit lanes, lines of street performers dance, drink and eat like fortune depends on it, and the children are particularly excited as there are no classes the following morning. Sat on the shoulders of parents and relatives in the narrow packed lanes, they watch wide eyed as long multi-legged colourful reptiles turn the street corners. The red, gold and purple dragons move erratically in all directions like a protracted winding snake. Underneath long trailing vibrant throwovers decorated with flakes of discarded dragon scales, the performers raise and lower their bodies whilst opening and closing the whiskered mouth of the head. The slipper and sandal footed dragon darts from side to side and up and down as the leading man spits fuel from his mouth, igniting sprays of liquid in shorts bursts of flame to the amazement of cheering onlookers.
The people of the Huanghua city always put on a good show for their reptilian companions, who would observe the exciting and flamboyant show in confusion and wonder. The first of the dragons had arrived a few days prior to the celebrations, obviously not to attend the celebrations, but to mark the beginning of their cycle of origin, and pay their respects to Yu-Huang, the majestic being of whom they share a spiritual relationship with. The people of the city honour the presence of the sacred scaled beasts, and believe their presence will bring good fortune to their families, health and businesses this year. The arrival of the Samurai was an example of this belief, for they created an aura of safety to ward off the tales of horror told of late. Tales that mattered not this day, a great day that will transcend into a brilliant night of raucous laughs and good memories to speak of for some time to come. The dragons swoop over the city to present their offerings to the people, gifts consisting of killed livestock and large sea monsters picked off from wild lands and undiscovered oceans.
After many a large bison, Yán Shān (Salt Mountain) carnivorous thirty foot turtles, and half-eaten Kraken tentacle have been dropped onto the bonfires below, they screech and roar in favour of the people. Many a varied wing swoops overhead, and the massive reptiles scream in open mouthed drawls as they celebrate their return. Eventually they rest themselves on the flexible bamboo perches and strong roofed temples and towers, anywhere that would hold their dug in weight. Folding in their wings and adjusting their talons, they gaze on in wondrous bewilderment as they clearly recognise themselves as stars of the show. They see the mortals the way mortals look at a dog performing clever tricks when raising a paw. They see the mortals as mortals look at dogs when showing their undying loyalty when commanded to heel. They look upon the mortals now as mortals look on dogs when expressing identifiable emotions; the mortals are cute. But the dragons look at mortals as dogs stare at treats, for the humans are tasty in gobfuls. Fortunately the dragons honour their unwritten rule with the Emperor, the rule that forbids them from eating humans within the Huanghua territories. The lanes and courtyards of the city are alight with merry laughing and joyful laughter, and eventually the dragons catch on to the excitement of the jubilant event. Each one lifts from their place of rest with beating wings to gain height. Fanning the fires from above, the heavy wind feeds the leaning rising flames, and the blazing barbeques rage fiercely whilst roasting the foreign rare delicacies.
In the skies the dragons play, lighting up the black night in multi-coloured streams of effervescent colossal sparks in cackling shrieks of fire. Such behaviour only occurred from a dragon during laughter, and they laugh hard as they watch their human pets with joy. Though many dragons there are, fewer have attended than usual observes Yu-Huang as he stands atop the Tower of Guang. Yu-Huang's stern face looks down upon his torch-lit city, and he wonders just what damage awaits his beautiful home. His troubled face reveals a maturity rarely seen for somebody his age, but then, Yu-Huang is older than most. Lower clothed in a loose jade robe, the frequent chilly wind of the exploding night sky blows wisps of his thin platform of cloud away. Yu-Huang's toned muscular arms tense as an unnerving sensation creeps up his spine. His shoulders shudder suddenly and he looks at the surface of his skin and notices strange tiny bumps appearing. Without realising, he blows a mouthful of hot air into his cupped hands and quickly rubs them together before grabbing his robe and throwing it over his shoulders. The Emperor makes his way up a spiral stairway of cloud and enters a wide platform of mist. Yu-Huang had trained hard today, and had meditated even harder, but this was the first time he felt exhausted.
He had trained just as hard before, and meditated for twice as long, and cannot explain this feeling of tiredness. But now is not the time to focus on himself, not while the celebrations and loud noises might be distressing the unborn beasts under his care. Yu-Huang walks to the centre of the empty misty platform where a small circular dome embedded in the white haze of the ground shines forth a rippling beam of light. Yu-Huang approaches the column of light and breaks it with his hand and all of a sudden one hundred eggs rise on various sized, sleek metal plinths. The metal pedestals are of an alien-like nature, and Yu-Huang is still unable to classify its strange matter. The
strange metal surface is soft and warm to the touch, and swims with swirling silver. Yet it solidifies when pressured, as though to defend itself. Each round pedestal is perfectly moulded for each of the weird looking eggs mounted atop the various nests. Bars of light hover in a virtual display before each pillar, regulating and monitoring the condition of the life forms contained within each egg. Various illuminated inscriptions formed of various sized dots, lines and triangles shine brightly from each pedestal. The inscriptions are their names, the names of the beasts inside the eggs.
Names which Yu-Huang was never able to understand, until now, ever since Kamui Li bestowed upon him the range of bizarre languages. Yu-Huang pays heed to certain eggs as he studies their virtual readouts. Some only raise one bar, meaning they are asleep, others raise three bars, signifying slightly distressed. Few read five bars, indicating a level of extreme distress. The Emperor doesn't need the various lights informing him of their state, he knows each and every one of them like they were his own children. Yu-Huang gestures to the metal dome bursting its upward light, and it hovers across the misty ground and stops beside him. Yu-Huang performs a series of hand gestures within the beam of light and a blue heads up display appears around him. With another series of hand gestures, Yu-Huang highlights the eggs in distress and increases the temperature of their incubation plinths before tending to them personally. Yu-Huang had never understood how he was able to read the alien language of dots, lines and triangles, and he no longer cares. He had given up on the question long ago, for it was irrelevant compared to the higher task of keeping these unborn beasts alive. The Emperor approaches a large egg, an egg almost as tall as him covered in white and grey feathers. Placing his ear to its soft surface exterior, he rubs the shell gently as he hears thuds and cries coming from inside. Yu-Huang sings the beast a gentle lullaby and smiles as he listens to the infant cooing gently, until all that can be heard are loud gargling snores vibrating against the outer shell. Yu-Huang looks at the five bars receding to nothing, and speaks quietly to the slumbering beast.
“Sleep well Doze,” says Yu-Huang, rubbing the shell.
Yu-Huang is cautious as he approaches the next egg, which is three times taller than him. The shell is blotched with various shades of green and mottled with uneven rounded black spots. There were times when Yu-Huang could have sworn this beast was going to hatch before his very eyes, but it never did, none of them did, and why... he could not say. The beast contained within this gigantic shell, he can only guess is fierce, and perhaps not so friendly. The shell rocks slightly on his pedestal, thrashing what Yu-Huang can only imagine to be a tail against the walls of its spherical home. As the dragons soaring over the city continue to bellow and roar, the harder the beast thrashes to be free. Yu-Huang is strict with the beast as it gurgles in loud hisses, and he commands it firmly.
“Go back to sleep, or there will be trouble!” says Yu-Huang, disciplining the infant.
The beast's wild hisses fade to a whining stop, and Yu-Huang rubs the hard glossy shell and taps it gently with the palm of his hand until it falls asleep.
“Sleep now, dream well Bashe,” smiles Yu-Huang.
Yu-Huang turns around and looks disapprovingly at a pea sized egg as he hears echoes of giggling coming from it. Yu-Huang lies on his belly and positions his face as close as the button of his nose will allow. The plinth is no bigger than a fat man's thumb, and holds a pink egg with yellow and blue spots. The tiny egg jerks in twitches as the beasts within continue to chuckle. Yu-Huang enlarges two miniscule readout bars and watches them move erratically from one bar to five. The egg was no bigger than Yu-Huang's fingertip, so he addresses it in whispers.
“The hour is late, ‘tis not playtime my little friend, return to your slumber,” says Yu-Huang.
One of the baby dragons farts in reply of Yu-Huang's motherly demand and the other breaks into another fit of giggles, creating a chain reaction of contagious laughter between the two. The laughing becomes uncontrollable, until the sound of hysterical laughs cause the tiny shell to vibrate and roll around on the soft cloud of its pedestal.
“At once,” snaps Yu-Huang, pointing a finger at it.
As the laughter from the twin dragons gradually deceases to a few chuckles, Yu-Huang observes the readouts deplete to zero.
“Goodnight Winchy and Geez,” smiles Yu-Huang, patiently.
As Yu-Huang walks to another mischievous dragon egg, he passes a plinth holding an egg twice his size, and stops by it. Not once had he heard movement or hissing coming from within. He looks at the readout and sees no change in its condition, nor could he feel its presence, it’s like it isn’t even there. The egg is formed entirely of shadow, with no physical object to cast its presence. Its readout displays no bars, just as usual. He places his hand on the exterior, and it passes through the oval of darkness. Yu-Huang treated each one of these eggs without bias, and as much as he wanted to adore this shell of shadow, something about it made him feel uneasy.
“Rest well Dusk,” says Yu-Huang, to the non-respondent egg.
Yu-Huang approaches an egg shaped lump of black rock with fire glowing from within its many surface cracks. From within, a loud squawking makes brighter the orange glow between the crevices. Placing his hand upon its scorching surface, Yu-Huang pats it roughly to soothe it back to sleep.
“Goodnight Chāpu,” says Yu-Huang checking the readout before moving on.
Yu-Huang continues to tend to the variety of unusual dragon eggs of all shapes and sizes, and marvels at their uniqueness. One egg is formed entirely of mechanical moving parts on a nest of vents and curved pipes chugging a foul smelling chemical. Another small egg pulsates with blood. Another bursts with small colourful explosions; there is even an egg formed entirely of storm clouds. There are one hundred eggs in total, one hundred lizard beasts of a bizarre nature, and not one had hatched under his rule centuries past.
Yu-Huang leaves the ‘Yún Zhùfú’ (Blessed Cloud), and makes his way down the floating steps amid a backdrop of bright and loud colourful fireworks and passing dragons. Sometime later he enters his throne room, occupied by soldiers and maids. Sitting on his stretched throne of jade, a maid passes him a goblet of fresh water. He drinks it heartily, hoping the fresh drink would revitalise his senses and rid him of this tiredness. Usually Yu-Huang goes to his slumber when he decides, but this was the first time his body has commanded him to rest, as if he were a mere mortal. Yu-Huang kindly commands everybody to leave so he might better think clearly without all eyes and hands tending to his needs. The hall is quiet now, and the flapping of the great long rows of green curtains hovering over the vertical voids sends him into a state of deep sleep.
As the Emperor dozes off, his head slumps back and sideways with his empty goblet hanging between his fingers. The Emperor's slumber seems peaceful as can be, until his eyelids move rapidly and his head jerks slightly. The Emperor dreams, dreams wildly of things too crazy to speak of. As his cheekbones clench he begins grinding his teeth, until the goblet balanced between his fingers drops with a loud clatter to roll down the stone steps. Yu-Huang jumps awake in his seat, panting deep and looking around.
Not often, but whenever Yu-Huang's thoughts caused him concern, time spent amongst his people was always the best way to loosen his mind. Besides, Yu-Huang enjoyed nothing more than pretending to be ageing mortal with his own family, cart and stall and homestead. But he would settle for his regular guise as a homeless man passing through the city. Knowing that he was able to blend in so easily with his country folk made him feel not so different. To be ignored or identified as nothing but a random passing stranger filled his heart with ease. Yu-Huang hails Minister Dingbang to the throne room and places him in charge during his absence. Minister Dingbang is an old and wise High Minister, and had acted as Keeper of the throne at least five times during the Emperor's absences. Yu-Huang gathers a few simple belongings, a cloak, walking stick and a dragon scaled sack that he throws over his shoulder, and leaves the citadel grounds to enj
oy the ongoing celebrations with his people. As drunken village folk dance merrily, random party goers throw their arms around him as he’s passed on in huddled and capricious dances of hugs and jumps. Yu-Huang, feeling better already goes along with the moshpit of fun, even though he's sober as a Priest. Eventually, the dragons continue their migration and the week-long celebrations subside before the sun rises. Drunken stall workers stagger back to their homesteads to drench themselves in barrels of cold water, some are barely able to comprehend the idea of the days labour ahead, while others welcome the challenge as they squint and stretch at the approaching sunrise.
