Guardian of the Southern Flow

By John Dickinson

The song of the whales is failing, as young calves beach themselves on the shores of the hunters. They are lovingly nursed through the night and returned to the seas but during the day the hunters track them down and kill them. Without the song of the whales, the axis of the world is shifting and the poles are leaning to the sun. The Great Southern Flow is melting.
As you enter a world of dragons, mountains of fire and Masters of the Deep you embrace a story embellished with wit and humour.
In a bid to preserve the Flow, El-Sea, a feisty, young penguin seeks the mythical, 'Guardian', a fierce dragon living a solitary life within an extinct volcano. Unfortunately, the original Guardian has been dead for some time. Her only son, Jade, is the last known living dragon but Jade has little interest. He would rather take a nap. El-Sea persists until she recruits his support and together, they embark on a search for the answers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Dickinson
• Release date: Feb 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9780987208729

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Guardian of the Southern Flow

By

John W Dickinson

Copyright John. W. Dickinson, 2011

Smashwords Editio

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ISBN: 978-0-9872087-2-9 Format: DG Ebook

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For my beautiful wife Janet and my three boys,

Chapter 1

‘Go away!’

The pounding at the front door was hard to ignore. Jade rolled over and yawned. You’d think they’d get the message after a week, he thought.

The trouble with long summer days was that once he woke up, he could never quite make it back to sleep. Several times Jade had drifted into a half-doze, only to be jolted back by the persistent rap-rap-rap at the entrance. ‘Take the hint and take off.’

You’d think it’d be less irritating after a week, he thought. But it wasn’t. He stretched and stirred and, with a determined effort, shut out the sound. When next he woke, he wasn’t sure if it was because the noise had changed or because an icicle had dripped on his head.

The battering had become a scratching. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Time was always difficult to judge when he indulged in a summer siesta but one thing was sure: whoever was at the door deserved a prize for patience. Jade figured they had been there knocking for at least a month, and, as far as he was concerned, they could go on knocking for another—he had no intention of getting out of bed. None whatsoever.

He bolted upright. ‘The door!’

No one could get in. No worries there. Mum had made sure it was impregnable—she had been nothing if not security-conscious. But no one should be able to find it, either. Not on top of a glacier-girdled peak, swept by ceaseless swirling blizzards, beneath a slab of ice ten leagues thick. Who had found him? And how? An icicle dripped on his nose. He looked up and blinked, his deep hooded eyes adjusting to the light. There were stalactites seeping from the ceiling. Instead of the glassy smooth finish he’d worked hours to achieve in his last spring-clean, the walls were rippled and pitted. Instead of a ceiling soaring upwards in a cathedral-like arch, it slumped down towards him like a white puddle. Jade frowned as he remembered the hours spent polishing the walls to a flawless sheen with his breath and burnishing them with an oiled piece of last year’s skin. It had taken him most of last summer but it was worth it. He turned in annoyance as the scratching started again with renewed vigour.

Jade jumped out of bed, blew on the frozen drips spiking his floor and skated across the surface as soon as they melted. For the first time in his life, he wished for windows. The ghostly blue dawn light that filtered through his translucent walls was enough to see by, but it didn’t help him know who was at the door.

Trolls, he thought, not knowing if they still existed. That would explain the thumping. Probably got a battering ram. Mum always said they never forget. And that sooner or later they’d want revenge for the way his great-grandmother’s cousin on his father’s side had rained down fire on the wrong side in the Battle of Toorach.

‘It was seven hundred years ago,’ he called out down the hallway.

The scratching became feebler. Jade made his way to the kitchen, swinging his limbs to get the circulation going. He wasn’t in the least concerned that the trolls could get in but they were making a mess. Some of the interior walls had buckled and then refrozen in long warped curves. It would take ages to fix. All because some fire-eater seven centuries ago made a mistake. Jade wasn’t impressed. But he knew that the trolls would be hard put to find any other relatives of his, at least these days. He himself didn’t know of anyone. Mum had always been a recluse before she died and he had never really known his father.

The scratching had slowed to a faint scrape.

’Go on! Give up!’ Jade said under his breath. ‘Go home!’

He was hungry and searched the pantry for the coral and seashell salad he had prepared before settling down for his summer siesta. He was not surprised to find that the shelves of the pantry had bent and the salad mix was floating in a dark slush of partly frozen ice. With delicate claws, he picked out an ancient clam shell and sniffed it. ‘No harm done.’ He popped it in his mouth, crunched, and reached for some coral.

A slow weak scratch echoed into the kitchen. It was a painful sound. Even his mother’s fingernails scraping across an iceboard as she taught him how to read had been less excruciating. Another slower, weaker, even more distressing scratch followed. Then silence. Jade waited, a piece of coral poised in front of his mouth. And waited. Somehow the silence was worse than the relentless pounding. Munching on the coral, he walked to the front entrance, careful to lift his feet high to avoid his toenails clinking on the polished floor. He put his ear to the inside of the door. Still silence. Then, so quietly that Jade thought he might even have imagined it, a tired desperate scratch against the outside of the door. Jade couldn’t resist any longer. He pressed his hand to the opal door, felt the tingle as it recognised him and pulled the handle. It rolled open.

At first he saw nothing, just a sea of mist caressing the mountain slopes.

What’s happened to the ceaseless swirling blizzards? He looked around. Not to mention the girdle of glaciers.

Then he saw a tiny shape, half buried in the snow. It didn’t look like a troll. Jade opened the door fully and knelt beside the white-shrouded form. Ice had formed like diamond droplets over the body, glistening in the sunlight, giving it the look of a young princess. For a moment he stared, fascinated by the texture of the fur. He had seen penguins before but only from a distance. He had thought their skin was smooth and tough, like his own. Instead it was like a carpet of fine feather threads, soft and silky to touch.

This is what’s been battering at my door? A penguin? Whatever for?

Jade wasn’t sure what to do but he knew she would die if he left her there. As it was, he wasn’t sure that she was still alive anyway. Sliding the tip of his wing under her shoulder, he rolled her up under his armpit and carried her inside. It was pointless to put her on his bed. It was made of ice and would hardly warm her up. So he kept her wrapped in his wing. He sighed as he sprinkled some dried cabbage weed into a shell filled with ice. ’Who’d have thought a penguin could suffer from the cold? And I thought you guys could go months without eating.’

After heating the ice with his breath, he raised the shell to his mouth. It took only a moment for the bitter salt fluid to work its way into his system. His energy was already returning. With a little juice left in the shell, he tilted his wing to expose the penguin’s face. ‘Mum swore by this stuff.’ He tipped the contents into her beak. ‘Cabbage weed will fix anything.’

At first nothing happened. Jade sighed. She’s dead. And it’s probably my fault. I should have opened the door sooner.

A cough, a splutter, a movement under the eyelids and the quiet ball of silky feathers burst into life, kicking, screaming and flapping her wings. His armpit tickled and Jade, laughing, uncurled his wing, catapulting the penguin across the floor.

‘Are you crazy?’ The penguin waved her arms in the air and staggered to her feet. ‘Do you know how hot it gets under your armpit? I feel like a roasted chestnut.’ She sniffed the air. ‘What’s that stench? Boy, do you need a bath.’

‘Excuse me. I’ve just saved your life.’

The penguin ignored him. ‘What in the oceans was in that vile juice you poured down my throat? It tasted like seaweed.’

’That’s because it was.’

‘Trying to poison me, eh? And why didn’t you answer the door? I’ve been knocking for weeks. What kept you? I could have frozen to death out there waiting for you.’

Jade stared, stunned. Maybe the trolls would have been a better option. He was sure they wouldn’t go on like this about his personal hygiene and the quality of his hospitality.

‘Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?’ The penguin pointed her wing at him as if accusing him of breaking the law. ‘The elders said you didn’t exist, they said I’d never find you and I was beginning to think they were right. You are a real nutcase. You know that? Living inside an extinct volcano. Boy, are you weird.’

The penguin rolled her eyes upwards and paused as she looked at the ceiling, trying to conceal her awe. ‘Where does the light come from?’

‘Cabbage weed is seaweed,’ said Jade, taking advantage of the distraction.

‘Pardon?’

‘Cabbage weed is seaweed.’

The penguin eyed him as if he had taken leave of whatever little sense she suspected him of having. ‘Right…’

‘It’s a well-known restorative. I put it in the drink I gave you. The one that woke you up.’

‘The one that almost choked me?’

Jade said nothing. For a while they stood in silence, the penguin looking around the room, Jade looking at the penguin. He was again amazed at how soft her fur was and made a mental note not to be deceived by her size or appearance of vulnerability. And definitely not to underestimate the fire of her personality.

As their silence continued the penguin lowered her head and began to shuffle her feet. A few times she looked up but then lowered her gaze.

‘I’m…umm, sorry.’ It came out as a mumble.

‘Pardon?’ asked Jade, caught by surprise.

‘Is something wrong with your hearing?’ The penguin glowered. ‘Along with your other disabilities?’ She began yelling. ‘I’m sorry. Get it? I’m sorry I shouted at you. You saved my life. Thank you.’

Jade smiled. ‘You’re welcome.’

His polite tone seemed to irk the penguin more. ‘I’ve been searching for you for months. They said you didn’t exist but you do. The legend said you hollowed the mountain with fire and placed a rock of pure opal across the entrance. A rock as tall as five Polars.’

‘That was my mother. Loved to show off. Loved to surround herself with bling.’

The penguin began to tap her foot. ‘I knew that if the legend was true, spring would uncover the ice from your door. It took months but finally I caught a glimpse of it from Pelican Peak.’

‘Impossible.’ Jade thought. Absolutely not possible. Mum carved out a slab of ice five leagues thick and eighty leagues long and melted it into the glaciers on either side and laid it over the door. What’s this spring thaw bit?

‘With the reflection of the sun, it looked like a fire in the heart of the mountain.’ The penguin paused for a moment and then began tapping her foot again. ‘Mister Hospitality, aren’t you? You wouldn’t have something to eat, would you?’ She pouted. ‘Other than cabbage weed soup?’

‘I’ve got some coral and seashell salad.’

‘Got any fish?’

‘Come this way.’ Jade led the penguin down the hallway to a large open cavern. It was so vast that it contained a deep pool filled with a variety of coral, weed and small fish.

‘This is my dining room.’ Jade extended an invitation with an extravagant sweep of his wing. ‘Help yourself.’

Without hesitation the penguin slid gracefully into the water. It was a long while before she returned but Jade didn’t mind. He was preoccupied with what she had told him. The ice covering over the door had melted? In spring? What would it be like at the height of summer? No wonder there were so many icicles hanging like dripping stalactites from his ceiling. What on earth was causing this unseasonable warmth?

‘Sorry to be so long.’ The penguin shook water from herself as she came out of the pool. ‘It’s been months since I had a decent swim.’

‘Do penguins have names?’ Jade asked.

‘Of course. Why?’

‘My name is Jade.’

‘Forgive me.’ The penguin adopted a formal air and turned to face Jade, ‘I have forgotten my manners. I am El-Sea, daughter of Clairlind, Queen of the Adelie penguins of the Southern Ice Flow. I have traveled a great distance and a great many months seeking the legend of the Mountain of Fire. When I found the door, I thought my quest was over but you took so long to come, I thought I would die on your doorstep.’

‘I was asleep.’

El-Sea looked puzzled. ‘For months?’

Jade didn’t want to go into the finer details of his lifestyle. He particularly didn’t want to admit that spring-cleaning was the high spot of his year and that a good long siesta went a fair way towards filling his ample spare time. ‘Why was it so important to find me?’

‘Because you’re a dragon.’

‘You risked your life just to see a dragon?’

‘Actually I have risked my life to find the Guardian of the Mountain of Fire. I have come to seek your help.’

‘I think you might have the wrong dragon.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘How do you know?’

‘You’re the last dragon.’

Jade sighed. He’d suspected as much.

‘We need you to help us with the Sacred Masters of the Deep.’

‘You’ve definitely got the wrong dragon.’ Jade raised his hands. ‘I don’t know anything about any Masters of any Deep.’

‘But you are the Guardian!’

‘No. I’m Jade. It’s my mother you’re looking for but she’s been dead eighty years.’

‘So that makes you the Guardian.’

‘No, it just makes me the last dragon. And I’ve never left this mountain. I know nothing about the world outside except what my mother told me.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Two hundred,’ Jade said. ‘And three.’

‘Isn’t it time you started to get out and about a bit?’ El-Sea asked. ’Maybe you could begin by visiting the Masters of the Deep.’

‘No.’

‘Aren’t you curious about the world outside?’

‘No.’ That wasn’t entirely true but Jade wasn’t about to be bullied into heading off into the unknown by a penguin with attitude.

He turned to face the wall to emphasise his refusal to bow to El-Sea’s pressure.

There was silence. He waited… and waited. But she didn’t say another word. Jade didn’t like to admit it but it was nerve-racking. Turning back at last, he realised that her ordeal must have finally taken its toll. She was curled up, asleep, with the hint of a tear crystallising in the corner of her eyes.

Chapter 2

‘Masters of the Deep.’ The words echoed off the walls as Jade made his way deep into the mountain, muttering to himself. He knew he’d had a sheltered upbringing and that his mother had wanted to keep him safe from the evils of the world, but he now wondered if she’d been a bit over-protective.

As El-Sea slept, he made his way to the Hall of Knowledge. As he went, he inspected the walls for warping and was pleased to see that the damage was confined to the upper rooms. The foundation was still sound and the integrity of the ice was unimpaired. Whatever had caused the meltdown in his bedroom and the kitchen didn’t affect the heart of the mountain.

The passage became darker as he descended. Pale blue ice turned to a deep shade of ultramarine. Left at the intersection, he reminded himself. Despite the years he’d spent in the mountain, Jade still had trouble remembering where all the rooms were. He was sure that there were some he had never found and that remained hidden, guarding their secrets, behind concealed doorways. A labyrinth of interconnecting corridors, chambers, tunnels and halls riddled the mountain. Without the secret of how passages were linked, it was possible to be lost in the corridors for years. It was Jade’s opinion that this had, in fact, happened to one of his ancestors because there were well-stocked kitchenettes at regular intervals.

There was also a number of deadfalls with a straight drop to a lava pit three hundred leagues below. The pattern for negotiating the labyrinth and avoiding the deadfall was simple. At least when it came to going from the kitchen to the Hall of Knowledge. Downhill all the way and left at every intersection. It was the deepest room in the mountain and the largest. Its walls were of polished black rock that towered three leagues to form a dome. A skylight of clear ice allowed a shaft of light to shine down onto the walls that were covered with writing.

Etched into the rock was an account of the history and wisdom of his ancestors. All the knowledge they had gathered since they first moved to the Icelands was recorded on the walls. As a pup, Jade spent many happy hours reading the stories of his forefathers and how they originally lived in the lands without ice.

It was all legend, Mum had said. But it was stirring stuff and it had fired Jade’s imagination. He loved the tales of the dragonets who ate fruit from trees, basked in the sun all year round and raced storm clouds across the sky. He was puzzled by the behaviour of the soft-skinned hunters who decided to make war with the earth. First they made fire to destroy the trees, then captured others of their kind to be their slaves. And to keep their slaves docile, they made weapons to kill and conquer all who failed to worship them. They were especially hostile to the dragons. ‘One of us betrayed them all,’ Mum had said. Jade always thought it an odd remark from someone who insisted it was nothing