Shimian's Dragon

By Gabriella Paige Bracamonte

An obscure path in the forest,
Ferns silently grow,
And shrubs playfully hide it.
Who made that path?
Who walked on it long ago?
What beautiful creatures once inhabited it?
If trees could speak,
What story would they tell?
Imagine a time long ago,
A world that was never found.
I am Shimian.
This is my story,
Enter and explore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Sep 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781449783532

Gabriella Paige Bracamonte

Gabriella Paige Bracamonte is a writer and student from Santa Cruz, California. She was inspired to write Shimian’s Dragon after an accident put her in a wheelchair. Gabriella has now recovered and enjoys writing fantasies that share the true story of God’s grace and love granted in every circumstance.

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Copyright © 2013 Gabriella Paige Bracamonte.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-8353-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-8352-5 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013901644

WestBow Press rev. date: 9/25/2014

TABLE OF CONTENTS

I. New Life

II. First Meeting

III. The Attack

IV. Syperous

V. Visions

VI. The Cleatar

VII. The Mission

VIII. Games

IX. Friend or Foe?

X. Secrets

XI. Dreams

XII. Water

XIII. Thylassen

XIV. The Battle

XV. Finished

To my parents, Ralph and Lisa Bracamonte,

who have always believed in me,

and to my heavenly Father, who makes all things possible.

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CHAPTER I

New Life

S ilence fell upon the forest. The trees were in a deep sleep, and the wind was still. Thick fog rolled across the plentiful grass. Amid the trees in a dark cavern lay a single egg, which gave off a red glow as if fire were swirling beneath its smooth surface. The perfectly shaped object alone dared to defy the silence. The moon was high in the sky, but the wolves would not howl. On that night, an unspoken warning spread through the mystical, secretive forest.

At precisely midnight a new life entered the world. The egg gently rocked, then shook, and cracked open. Through the pieces of shell peered two curious and wise eyes. The darkness hid the newborn’s body, but the old cave resounded with a rustling of wings. The creature screeched as if to tell the world it had arrived. If that moonlight had shone into the cave, it would have revealed the glorious dragon that came to life. This most beautiful of all creatures, it was no bigger than a small dog, but it stood with dignity and grace. Its eyes saw through the darkness. Its red, scaly skin seemed to be embedded with rubies.

This creature had been long forgotten. Not even the forest remembered its power. No one knew how long the egg had sat on the rocky floor or if the dragon’s mother still lived. Any traveler stumbling upon it would not have dared to touch the crimson stone, leaving it to lie in the darkness. However, it was not a stone. It was a dragon’s egg, and the creature’s time had come.

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At this time, the territory was mostly uninhabited. There were a few castles here and there, but the vast forest was the real ruler of the land. Whoever could control the wild forest could control the kingdom. On the outskirts of the forest lay the castle of a good king. He ruled the land of Alamora. The king had three sons, and he had decided that when they reached the age of twenty he would give each of them a portion of his land and a castle. The first son, Trintar, was thirty and had expanded his holdings into a thriving kingdom. The second son, Corinso, was twenty-five and, like his elder brother, was making a good start at building a great kingdom.

Finally, there was me, the youngest, Shimian. I was fourteen years old. I had seen my brothers work to expand their kingdoms. But I was a cripple. Nothing on the right side of my body worked. My father wanted me to take over his kingdom, to be a scholar, and to use my mind. I hated being caged like a flightless bird. I did not want to spend my days counting coins and raising taxes. I cared not for fame or riches but for life itself, although I was short on it. I wanted a life without barriers, but my life was full of them. My father loved me and wanted me to take his place on the throne when I turned twenty. The good king had lived a long life and was old, weary, and ready to retire. I tried my best to be grateful, yet I felt even more broken. I did not know how I was supposed to run a kingdom. I had a brilliant mind, but how would I defend my realm? The people wanted a strong king. I could not walk down the hall without help.

My father was a wonderful man. He did not see the outside of me, only the inside. I wished the world had eyes like his and could see me as he did. I was a smart, strong-willed person, but people see only what is in front of them. If you have flaws, they will point them out to you. They judge others as if they themselves were kings. The people did not want me as their king.

As my father wished, I spent my days in the scribe’s office, schooling myself and learning to be a leader. Although my head was in the books, my heart was in the forest, running, flying, and doing everything I knew I could not. I dreamed every moment about what it would be like to be free. I longed for the forest. I wondered how it smelled and what mysterious animals might live there. I longed for the forest to breathe the same life into me as it did into all the creatures that inhabited it. But my life was bound to my broken body, and my dreams were just that—dreams.

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The sun was just beginning to rise. A mist covered the forest floor as small animals hopped out of their burrows. Life once again filled the forest and the sky. Rays of sunlight pierced the forest canopy and illuminated the ground. Out of the cave appeared two small feet. Jutting out of the ruby scales were talons as sharp as a samurai’s sword. The beast’s head could now be seen as the mist cleared and a few rays of sun shot into the cave’s mouth. Spikes protruded from the dragon’s long, curved neck. Her head held fierce and beautiful eyes. They were blue like the sky. The rays reached farther into the cave, revealing two gigantic, half-folded wings and a long tail curving up and whipping around. In the silence the dragon inhaled the fresh air. With every moment that passed she grew bigger and stronger.

CHAPTER II

First Meeting

M iles away, I was taking a tour of Trintar’s kingdom. I had been on a day trip to his corn fields. At the time, crops were as important as air itself, and learning how to pick the right location for them and how to grow them was a crucial part of one’s education.

I sat in my carriage, watching my brother’s workers tend to the corn fields. The men led large oxen through the rows. I wondered what God was thinking when He made animals as funny as oxen. They carried heavy buckets of water on their backs, and the workers dropped the water on the stems of the plants. I imagined myself leading the oxen.

My daydream was suddenly shattered when Trintar’s rival, the Cleatar, laid siege. I sat completely helpless. The workers quickly ran from the area, screaming and shouting. Even my guards left. At that time, we had no kind of wheelchairs or medical treatments. I was a useless body with a heart no one cared to see. I watched the fields around me catch fire. I was encircled by flames. My heart raced. It was not until my carriage caught fire that the danger completely sank in. As I struggled to drag myself out of the carriage, I heard a voice in the deep recesses of my mind.

Hold on, Shimian. I am coming.

I looked about, trying to find the source of this voice, but saw no one. Suddenly a great wind blew around me. Drinking in the gusts of air, the fire rose to twenty feet on every side of me. Through the roar of the blaze, I heard a gigantic thud. I had covered my face with my good hand, but curiosity drew me to part my fingers for a look. In the fire was a beast as tall as my castle walls, its crimson body entangled in the flames. The creature’s eyes searched mine. I heard the voice again, telling me not to fear, and I spoke back.

I feel no fear at all, I said, though I know I should. Your eyes tell me you are good.

Then step forward, brave one. The creature spoke again without moving its mouth.

The words resounded in my head loud and clear. I felt as if I had known the beast all my life. It seemed to be a part of me I had never seen. I felt a strange love for it, like I was bound to it. I dragged my dead leg across the scorched ground, and the creature moved quickly, shifting its head toward me. The beast picked me up with its nose and threw me onto its back. I held on with all my might, which was not much. I could hear the creature breathing quickly yet evenly. It jumped into the air, stretching out its wings, and we flew straight up. I remember only bits and pieces after that. The next thing I knew I was waking up in my bed. I opened my eyes to find my father kneeling at my side. I cleared my throat and spoke.

Father, what has happened?

The Cleatar attacked while you were in the fields. They captured your brother and burned the crops, and the whole kingdom has been thrown into an uproar. We found you at the edge of the river. How did you get there, Shimian? Who took you?

I don’t remember, Father. I only remember the flames surrounding me, and …

What, Shimian?

Nothing. I remembered a beast, but the last thing I needed was to have my father think my mind was crippled along with my body. If I was insane, I would keep it to myself.

My father reached out, rubbed my head, and smiled. He got up and spoke to my physician. I could not hear their whispers, but I did not care about what they were saying. I needed to identify the beast that had saved me. Why did it do this? My own people would not rescue me. I felt attached to the beast.

That night I heard a great wind. Something about it was unusual. I slowly removed the bed covers with my good arm. My other arm twitched. I grabbed my robe, swung it around me, and scooted to the corner of the bed, gradually making it to my feet. I started for the window about five lengthy feet away. Reaching the brick windowsill was a slow and painful process. I was only a foot away when my good leg gave way beneath my weight. I fell to the floor with a thud. I sat in silence, listening to the wind.

Normally, I would have stayed on the floor and waited for someone to find me, but I felt an urge to get up. Pushing with my hand, I used my knee to wedge myself back up. Even my good leg was weak. I half jumped, half limped to the window, embracing the cold stone frame. I looked up into the darkness and blinked in disbelief. I thought I was going mad. A pair of deep blue eyes blinked back. My heart pounded like a million drums sounding for war.

Hello again.

The voice filled my head and caught me by surprise. Jolted, I jumped up and fell once more face down on the hard floor. The voice was full of power and might.

I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you.

The words forced me to get up from the floor. My arm wanted to give up, but my mind pushed