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Turmeric the dragon shook in her sleep. An image kept coming to her mind, over and over. It was blurry but very real: she saw a fire, and a screaming, ghastly face. Finally she woke up, in the middle of the night.
"You must walk the human maze," said the druid of her clan when she went to him with her problem. "They go around it on their knees as a test of their faith."
Turmeric knew the place he meant: the humans had made a clearing, near their towers in the northern Therren Woods. There, they had laid down a stone-paved ground like dwarves knew how to do. She had even seen from above the humans going around in circles within the space, and so had many dragons. The maze had been a topic of much gossip among the clan, especially because it did not trap people like mazes normally did, nor did any monsters live within it.
"You must be joking, Gerrold," she said.
He winked at her. "The gods may joke, but I'm not doing so right now. I have looked at the dreams in your head, and this is what they say."
Turmeric then went to the maze one evening, as the stars were beginning to come out. Slowly, she got down on one knee and the other, feeling the ground rumble in complaint. After only a few moments, Turmeric felt her knee joints complaining as well. She kept going, because Gerrold was never wrong. She even kept going after the headache began.
Just as she came to the end/beginning of the enigmatic path, and was rising up again, groaning, she smelled smoke. Turmeric looked up and saw it was not any of the humans' thatched villages. The smoke came from the south instead, toward the mountains.
Turmeric's whole body ached, but she flapped away, back toward her cave as fast as she could go. The dragon knew before she got there that her clan had been destroyed. She landed in a charred nook in the mountains and sniffed: yes, she knew the dragons who'd done this. Dragons regularly fought amongst one another, for treasure. All the caverns had been plundered, bodies lay everywhere, slowly charring into dust.
***
She turned her head away at the sight.
"No better than goblins or harpies," she hissed, as she rose into the air again, heading west.
As she flew along the edge of the mountains, Turmeric heard shouting, and she caught sight of dwarf scouts whoĠd been posted over there. She saw them pointing and watched their tiny lips open wide for shouting, heard their small horns echoing over the mountains. On a curve that took her closer to the wood, her bright sight saw an elf standing alone, observing, and she knew that heĠd seen her with his own sharp eyes.
***
Turmeric paid no attention to any of this. She had nothing on her mind but vengeance for her clan, and vengeance for the theft. She did not care about elves or dwarves, or any other creature of the region.
Finally she found what she sought, in a bend of the mountains where they headed northward. Turmeric slowed so that she might better see any guards these foul dragons might have set out. She found none, however. All she saw or heard was their drunken, bawdy songs, and the flip-flops in the air as they danced in the sky for joy.
"This is for my people!" she screeched, diving toward the revelers and catching them completely by surprise. Her flame was great: she charred many, before they were quick enough to fight back.
"Hey! Little girl, you picked the wrong clan to fight!" yelled a young male and dove at her. They crashed into a side of the mountain, causing a rockfall. She came back flaming as two others charged, one of them singeing her tail. She howled and chewed at another female's neck, ripping off a wing. Bruised and bloodied, Turmeric fought on, till she'd cornered the young male in a crack.
They looked at one another in silence, as the rockfall quieted. Not a bird or beast made a noise around them; all knew better than to stay in the area of a dragon fight.
***
"Go on," Turmeric said tiredly and flew off, hearing the cries of the wounded.
She flapped upward on tattered wings, too weary and heartbroken to care about treasure for the moment. Now she would be a solitary dragon, alone in a cave or castle she would have razed, guarding her treasure till some knight came to kill her for it. Or she could join one of the vagabond clans of the mountains, that took in dragons like her who had no other home.
Damn Gerrold, she thought, and that dream. Walking the maze had taken her just enough time to be away while the rest of the clan died.
Turmeric felt a thud and some pain just as she looked down, to see the little army. She looked back and found a battle ax, well thrown, lodged in one bleeding thigh. On reflex, she turned and flamed at the dwarves, catching several, and then flew higher and away.
She flew on, then, in pain, heading southeast, and finally came over the edges of the marshes of I Fim Arr to the plains, and then the vast desert. There at last she collapsed, in the deep sand dunes.
* * * *
When she opened her eyes at last, she found a half-naked group of humans staring at her. The wound in her thigh ached, but she looked back and found the battle ax had been removed while she slept, the area carefully bandaged as she'd seen humans and elves did. These were like no humans she'd ever seen before, though. They wore as garb two pieces of cloth held together at the shoulders and then belted. Many also had a headdress of cloth that was wrapped around the head and shoulders and face in various ways. Skin showed if they moved, bronzed by the sun. They went barefoot, but wore much jewelry.
The humans were chattering together, but stopped instantly as they noticed she was awake. All of them dropped to their knees and bowed low to the ground as in homage. "Ohh, Gift of Gods," they said to her in a human speech that she had never heard before. She only understood it because it is the nature of dragons to understand all forms of language. Turmeric stared at them.
"Well, if you're asking that I not eat you, save your breath," she said in broken human tongue. She had not had to talk with humans before.
They looked at one another. Finally one, in much richer jewelry than any of the others, said "Gift of the Gods, we have not seen one of your kind in many ages. You are legendary to us: your wisdom and your beauty. You honor us."
"I'm only here because I ended up here," she said, and proceeded to tell them her tale. The humans listened attentively as any young dragon would when hearing stories from an elder. They murmured to one another when she had finished.
"You tell an amazing tale," said the human. "We would be truly honored if you would remain and tell more tales, such as you know."
"You aren't going to kill me."
They stared at her, horrified. "Kill you! We do not know much of your land, but you are on the borders of Amin Durr," he said. "None would dare harm a Sacred One out here. Our tribe would be greatly honored and much revered to have you with us, and others may be jealous. But none would harm you, I assure you. We would give you gifts such as your folk are said to like: the finest cattle, the most precious gems."
So Turmeric did stay with the Hetdalenn of Amin Durr, who traveled the desert and only lived in a citadel of men during the few colder months, when the skies there turned purple. She became famous among them, and all considered that the year's good crops were due to her coming.
Turmeric never did return to Kritter. When she finally died, hundreds of years later, her bones were spread apart to all the many tribes of the Hetdalenn, so that even in death the great creature would protect them and make them great ever after.
Then, the people of Amin Durr fought over the treasure she'd amassed in so long a time. That, after all, was what humans did.
© JA Howe
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