The Last Dragonkeeper

By Mark Hughes

Malik, the current Dragonkeeper, is at the beachfront ne-school late in the afternoon, for the final village meeting to confirm to the remaining villagers the plan for tomorrow. But first, he tells a very old and often told story to the ne-school aged children about how a young Zildamah, the dragon, warned and saved the villagers from the giant wave that devastated or destroyed so many of the other villages throughout the islands.

After the story and before the meeting is about to start, Aydn, Malik’s apprentice and the next Dragonkeeper, informs Malik that Jay, a nasty drunkard and an obnoxious bully, who has just delivered the last ingredient needed, has been badly injured in a bar, the Stagger Inn, owned and operated by the crippled Aydos, father to Aydn and a lifelong friend to Malik.

Butris, the village med-man, who despises Aydos, is furious about the situation he has been put in and accuses Aydos and Malik of gross negligence at the least and attempted murder at the worst. Malik pleads his innocence, states his case about his simple plan to subdue Jay with a sleeping potion, which was meant to keep him from causing any more chaos while he is at the village but seems to have gone horribly wrong. An uneasy truce is agreed upon between Butris and Aydos so that Malik can continue on with his work.

Malik makes his way to the dragon’s cave where a pained and distressed Zildamah awaits. Malik explains to Zildamah, again, that Zildamah is not dying, he is peeling. He has outgrown his old skin and it needs to be shed

Zildamah is surprised by this explanation, again, of what is causing him so much pain and discomfort. After a brief ‘examination’, Malik convinces a reluctant Zildamah, by promising a ‘big surprise’ afterwards, that Malik will fix the pain of peeling if Zildamah turns up at the beach at dawn tomorrow.

Later that evening, on the beach, Aydos ambushes Malik and confronts him with his misgivings about the way Malik has mixed some of the bizarre ingredients that he has gathered together. Malik says that it saves him a lot of time and that it doesn’t matter how they are mixed, the outcome is the same. Aydos is not so sure and is convinced that Malik has botched the process even before it starts and may well blow up Zildamah and will truly be ‘the last Dragonkeeper.”

The next day at dawn, feeling the little bit worse for wear, Malik, Aydn and the seventy-odd crew begin the day long process of skinning a live dragon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tellwell Talent
• Release date: Dec 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9781925739251

Mark Hughes

Lieutenant Colonel Mark Hughes, a native of Muskogee, Okla., retired from the Marine Corps in 1996. He has a bachelor's degree in journalism in education with a history minor and a master's in communication. As a public affairs officer, he was responsible for writing, editing, taking photographs, and publishing military newspapers. Additionally, Mark worked with the media and the community, answering questions and resolving issues. His assignments included New River Air Station, N.C.; Camp Lejuene, N.C.; U.S. Central Command, Tampa, Fla.; Camp Butler, Okinawa, Japan; and New York, New York. His deployments included Panama, Operation Restore Hope (Somalia), and Operation Desert Shield/Desert Storm (Saudi Arabia). His schooling includes The Basic School, Amphibious Warfare College, the Defense Information School, and Command and Staff College. His awards include the Bronze Star (meritorious), Defense Meritorious Service Medal, Marine Corps Expeditionary Medal, and the Navy Achievement Medal, among others. He has been married to his wife, Teresa, for 41 years and they have two four-legged kids, Chase and Ruby.

Book preview

Chapter One

Rcus Malik walked through the doorway of the big open-air classroom and stopped in front of the seated mass of smiling, sweaty children, not knowing who was more pleased to see him – the children or the parents – and waited until the pushing, fidgeting and giggling settled. The boys were last, of course.

Good afternoon, Rcus. The twenty or so remaining village children, aged between three and six, and the four parents rostered as teachers greeted him as one.

Good afternoon, ne-schoolers. Have you had a fun-filled day so far?

The children all cheered and shouted out the various forms of fun they had enjoyed so far and the pushing and giggling started all over again.

Malia had all but collapsed into a big round cane chair at the back of the room and was now slowly burying herself in pillows. The other three parents – Ana, Rico and Stan – waved hello and goodbye as Malik had started talking, escaping outside for a well-earned rest. They lay sprawled on the sand in the shade and chatted with the other parents who had turned up early for the meeting. The late afternoon heat was starting to lift but it was still muggy and any breeze from the bay was welcome.

Settle down, settle down, Malik boomed.

The children quietened immediately, faced the front, their hands clasped in their laps, and all looked at him, wide-eyed.

I am very busy today but I am here to tell you, the most important part of our village, that tomorrow I have a special examination of Zildamah on the beach. Do you know what that means?

The children all shook their heads. No.

"That means that the beach will be closed, the ne-school will be closed, the school will be closed, the village will be closed. Everything – and I mean, everything – in the village will be closed. Except for the crews helping me tomorrow, you and your family must all leave the village together, by dusk today. You do not have to go far. It is only a short ride down the road to the other side of the first cane-fields. Everything that’s needed has been planned, including where to sleep and what to eat. It’s only going to be one night away. All the older children, grownups and elders will be there to look after you and everyone will be fine. After I am finished, everyone can come back and we can all celebrate Zil getting better."

Little Anjelikat, a tall, skinny, five-year-old, put her arm up to ask a question but never got the chance as the other children started shouting all at once.

When are we going to eat? Where are we sleeping? Are all the beaches shut? Will Zil still be cranky? What are we celebrating? What are we going to eat?

If I answer all these questions I will have no time for a story.

The children all shut up and faced the front, hands clasped and wide-eyed as before. A muffled cry of ‘please’ came from Malia buried deep in the chair.

Pleeeeeeaaaaaassssse, the children pleaded.

Alright, just the one, seeing as you are all behaving so well. Which story shall I tell? As if he didn’t know. It was the same story every time. The children loved the group play throughout and he never tired of telling it. He had loved it at their age and still did.

Zildamah saves the villagers! the children chorused.

Do I know that one? he pretended.

Zildamah saves the villagers! they repeated louder.

Which village?

Our village! they shouted.

Ah … that story! I know that one. Malik began to pace slowly in front of the children as he recited their favourite tale …

A long, long time ago, way back when Zildamah was just a baby, not much bigger than a bull tapig and still too young to fly, the sun was just starting to come up over on the far side of the bay. Another beautiful day was about to start in the village and many of the villagers were still in their beds. The mornings were rather cool in the dry season, so it was a bit shivery when you got out of bed to get dressed.

All the children pretended to shiver, flapping and slapping their arms around briefly.

Some of the villagers had been awake and up for a while. They had eaten breakfast and were now on their way to work. Fishermen were readying their boats to ride the tide out to catch the fish. Bakers were firing and stoking their pits for the bread. Bamboo cutters were leaving to go off to the forests.

The back row of boys stood and wandered in a circle around the others. Some hauled in pretend ropes and fixed pretend nets. Some raked the coals or made sawing motions in the air. As they walked around one or two boys started muttering and mumbling words that raised a few eyebrows outside. One father outside the classroom earned a jab in the ribs from his wife when she recognised a certain phrase.

Then, a sound no-one had ever heard before.

The boys raced back to their spots and quickly sat down, still and quiet.

So loud and scary it woke the rest of the village with a terrible fright.

Malik walked slowly between the two groups and touched Anjelikat on the head. She leapt to her feet excitedly and all the other children let out a little sigh.

He held up three fingers for her to see and she nodded. A sound no-one ever … ever … wants to hear again. He nodded to Anjelikat and then plugged his ears, as did the other children and parents.

Kerskraatch … Kerrrskraaaatch … Keerrrskraaaatcch … Keeerrrrsskraaaaatcchhh.

For somebody who looked as if a stiff breeze could blow her away, little Anjelikat cut loose with a series of tooth-tingling, toe-curling screeches, each one louder than the last.

The rest of the children screamed in fright as they scrambled to their feet.

"Zildamah was screeching and screeching, on and on. All the fishermen, the bakers, the cutters, mothers, fathers, children, babies … everybody in the village was upset and shouting and crying. Everyone in the village wanted to know what was wrong. This was different to the storm cry that Zildamah let out in the wet season when he knew seriously bad weather was on its way. They had all heard that one before and knew what to do, where to go, when it was time. This was much different. Zil had never sounded as frightened before as he did now."

All the children walked around him in a large circle, crying like babies, or waving their arms angrily in the air, shouting at him. What’s wrong with Zil? Rcus, what’s all that noise? Shush, Zil, shush.

They all gathered in front of the keep where Rcus Maldon was trying to settle Zil. He had never heard Zil go on like this before and he was a little bit scared, too, I think.

The children had now stopped circling and were back in front of him, all gathered close together and holding hands, but still carrying on loudly.

Then over all of the shouting and crying and even Zil’s noise somebody shouted …

There was a slight pause in the noise as he pointed to Jacob.

Look … the solid six-year-old cried out, pointing nowhere in particular.

Everybody, inside and out, no matter where they were or which way they faced, all turned to look out over the ocean.

… where’s the water gone? Jacob finished.

The villagers turned to the beach to see the sea had gone away. The beach just kept going … out.

Half the children spread out across the large room and lay on the floor. The rest stayed close to Rcus Malik, facing the other children.

Boats that previously were being prepared for sail now lay on their sides in the sand. The fish the fishermen were going out to catch lay flopping and flapping about in the sand right next to the boats, their mouths gasping in the air.

Some of the children on the floor moved to their sides and began to flop and flap about, like fish out of water, mouths gasping.

A few of the villagers began to wander down towards the beach to get a better look at what was happening – and to get away from Zil who would not shut up.

Four of the children walked slowly out towards the others and began poking at those pretending to be boats and tickling at the fish impersonators that flopped on the floor.

Suddenly Zildamah went quiet. Some of the villagers cheered. They looked around to see what Rcus Maldon had done and saw that Zildamah was now running as fast as he could, away from the village and toward the hills. Someone had opened the gate and now Zil was running away.

The children near Malik cheered and pointed. Those that could, began to whistle; those that couldn’t, tried to. They all looked around at each other, wringing their hands, delivering a wonderful impression of innocence. He smiled briefly. This was his favourite part.

No-one ever found out who opened the gate.

The children stood and wiped their brows as one, each with a big swipe of an arm and a ‘whoo’. Even some of the fish and boats joined in, relieved at not being caught.

Rcus Maldon stood up on the gate and shouted to the villagers at the beach to stop and listen to him. ‘If something has scared Zildamah so much that he is running off to the hills, then everybody should leave for the hills now, too. If the sea has gone away so quickly that the fish and boats are like this, what will happen if it comes back just as quickly? Zildamah is afraid of something. Leave everything and just run. Now!’

The children on the floor stood and most gathered around Malik in one big circle. Three of the smaller children wandered away to far corners of the room and found a spot to crouch. Some of the children began shaking their fists at him and hissing loudly.

Not all the villagers wanted to leave. They argued with Rcus Maldon about their boats or their houses or even about all the fish going to waste. He told them to gather only the babies, the children and nothing else, and run, just run, now. Nothing else mattered right now.

The children spread out across the room. The three eldest boys – Obedia, Tyler and Pat – wandered around, found the others in the corners and returned them to their spot in the group.

After everybody was together the whole village began to run slowly toward the hills after Zildamah. He was way off in the forest by now and had started squawking loudly again.

The children began to pace slowly on the spot, checking behind them and beside them and in front to make sure the right person was there.

Okay, this is good, but we have to go faster. We need to get to higher ground quickly.

The children picked up the pace to a quick walk, going nowhere fast.

Faster.

They broke into a jog, knees up, arms swinging.

"Faster."

They ran flat out, running as fast as possible, on the spot.

Then a great noise could be heard. A deep rumbling like the thunderstorms before the rains come in the wet season but much louder. It frightened a lot of the villagers, who were all pretty scared by now anyway, and as they ran some of them screamed. Malik plugged his ears, as did everyone outside.

All the children screamed, shouted, wailed … and ran.

Suddenly the very ground beneath their feet began to shake and groan and some of the villagers fell over as …

He never finished the line. All the children fell to the floor in a big, sweaty mass, huffing and puffing from running nowhere. Some still wailed and screamed. Most gathered their breath, waiting for the story to continue.

Rcus Maldon looked back down the hill towards the empty village and the beach with no water. He tried to walk over to a tree to see if he could climb it to get a better view. The ground shook more and Rcus Maldon could not get to the tree.

Now it was Malik’s turn to play. He began to walk forwards, jerkily, shaking his legs with each step, flinging his arms around before falling to the floor. He shook bodily on the floor then tried to get up and failed. The children all laughed at him as he lay shaking. Eventually, he stopped shaking. Then, as suddenly as the ground had started to shake and groan, it stopped.

The children stopped laughing and all stood up in their group, looking at him on the floor. He got to his hands and knees and put his head down near the floor and peered intently at a piece of dirt, then slowly climbed to his feet, looking around the room, beyond the children.

As Rcus Maldon stood, he noticed that the ants and bugs on the ground and the ones in the air around him were still scurrying and fleeing inland. ‘We must keep going,’ he said to the villagers. ‘The animals are still fleeing. We must flee, too.’

The children started their slow walk on the spot again. Some hissed and moaned.

Again, some of the villagers were not happy but they did not argue, in case Rcus Maldon was right. They kept running further and further from the village, up into the hills. The sky was full of birds of all types and all colours: seagulls, terns, parrots and falcons, all screeching and flying in a panic. Above all the noise, they could hear Zildamah. ‘Chase Zil!’ Rcus Maldon called to the villagers.

The children sang the line over and over as they walked, slowly, on the spot. Chase Zil, he will know, chase Zil, where to go. Chase Zil, he will know, chase Zil, where to go.

Faster.

The children increased the pace a tiny bit. They all knew the story.

The villagers ran until they came to the bamboo fields where the cutters worked. Zildamah was screeching from deep inside the field of bamboo near a big cliff …

The children stopped singing and walking. They each stuck one hand on a hip and scratched their heads with the other hand as they stared up at the inside of the thatched roof, umming and aaahing.

Where there was no cliff yesterday, now a big, gaping hole in the ground ran all the way through the bamboo fields from one side to the other and beyond, out of sight. On the other side of the hole, the rest of the bamboo and the road beyond was now high above their heads. They could go no further. They were trapped and did not know what to do next. Rcus Maldon looked around at where they all stood and shouted to the villagers who were still scratching their heads. ‘Climb!’ Rcus Maldon yelled. ‘Grab some of the rope that the cutters used to tie the bamboo onto the wagons and climb, quickly, and as far up the bamboo as you can! Then tie yourselves on – but not too many on the same trunk of bamboo. Spread out through the field.’

The children spread out and all began climbing bamboo, just like the coconut and date gatherers did. Throwing a plaited rope around the trunk and then pulling against it, they all crouched and stood, crouched and stood, as they quickly raced up the trunk. The tying of elaborate knots followed and then they were all still, standing in odd poses and positions, all tied up safely.

Far off in the distance a roaring noise could be heard. It was different to the sound when the ground had rumbled and broken. This was a strange whooshing sound like the one you hear when you place a sea-shell against your ear, but much deeper. It got louder and louder and it seemed to be getting closer and closer. Rcus Maldon shouted at all the villagers over the roaring noise to keep an eye on each other and make sure everyone was secure. Then one of the children high up on his father’s shoulders screamed out …

Malik swung his finger around in the air trying to think of someone he had not given a line to in a while. Jehosophax! His finger stopped and he pointed at Jehosophax.

The water … the water is coming back! Jehosophax squealed in a high-pitched voice.

The villagers looked down at their village and saw a wave taller than a palm tree … taller than the bamboo they were in … taller than any wave ever seen before rolling across the whole width of the bay … and it was crashing into their village.

Some of the parents outside looked up at the trees behind them and shivered.

All the houses, the huts, the storage sheds, the boats – everything was swept away by the wave. The water kept coming, pushing all the wagons and bits and pieces of boats and roofs and all that had been their village into a big pile of soggy, broken rubbish in front of it, as it kept rolling in. Further through the forest it came. The villagers heard the snapping and crashing of the trees. The water slowed as it rose through the hills but still it flowed in. The bamboo field started to flood. The water rose slowly around them and bits and pieces of rubbish pushed past, bumping and knocking at the bamboo. Still the water came. Some of the villagers’ feet were now under water and they started to pull at the ties that held them to the bamboo.

A half dozen or so of the children shook their bonds briefly.

"‘Don’t!’ Rcus Maldon shouted. ‘Stay tied up. If you get down or fall now you could be swept away when the water goes back into the sea.’ Rcus Maldon did not know if this was right, but that’s what happened on the beach with any normal sized waves. They rolled in over the sand then they went back out to sea. If you’re not careful and watching out when you’re in the water, you could be swept out to sea. Rcus Maldon was worried for everyone around him and he shouted to the villagers to watch out for rubbish as it came past. The water kept rising. It was now above their knees."

All the children started to shake and moan or cry where they stood.

The children of the village now started to cry in fear and some of the grown-ups began to weep and wail. Husbands and wives hugged and kissed, saying how much they loved each other. Children held tight. Elders, fathers, mothers, sons and daughters, cousins and friends, all said their tearful goodbyes. The young women of the village that were old enough to be married but not yet mothers, started singing the farewell song of the ancients, the song usually only ever heard at the funeral pyre of an elder.

The children quietened and all released themselves from their poses as Peta, Pamilla and Kim started singing. They sounded truly wonderful and he could have listened to them sing more, but a few of the adults outside were getting a bit testy and upset as the villagers tended to do when the song was sung in the wrong place by the wrong people, story or not.

Then …

The singing stopped and all the children posed again.

… as the water reached the waistline of some of the adults and the necks of some of the children …

The children all stretched high on tiptoes and took in a last, deep breath.

… it stopped.

The children all blew out their breath at the same time.

The water started to drop away and move back to the sea. Slowly at first, then, as it receded quickly it plucked at the villagers, trying to pull them from the bamboo all over again. Rubbish flowed back through the bamboo field, bumping the bamboo canes as it was sucked out to sea. Very quickly the water was gone, and the villagers untied themselves carefully and climbed slowly and warily down from the bamboo.

The children shimmied down from their positions and started counting each other.

The ground all around them was covered with a thick, wet layer of smelly mud. Everything that still stood after the wave had left was a filthy brown colour. Rubbish, bits of thatching and broken boats were stuck high up in the trees. Rcus Maldon asked if anybody was hurt and needed help. Everybody was okay. At least, no-one was badly hurt. And not one of the villagers was missing. Rcus Maldon then realised it had been a while – since before they had climbed the bamboo – that anyone had seen or heard Zil. Rcus Maldon called out to Zil. Nothing. He whistled for Zil. Nothing. The whole village called out to Zildamah.

The children all called out to Zildamah as one.

Ziiilll … da … maaaah!

"Nothing. Zildamah was missing. He had warned them, saved them all from being swept away, and now he was gone. Had he been swept away, out to sea? Zil was a strong swimmer but it was such