We pressed our lips together for the first time, and felt our souls together for all time.
In bliss we lay beneath the protective canopy of the sacred oak. The rains had settled to the steady beat of passion released, and now sang only its gentle song. I held her tightly against my chest to keep her close and safe. We had no words, our actions had spoken for us both, and upon the ground we listened only to our steady breathing.
It was clear that I was her first man, and although I had been with many women, it was also clear that she was simply now, my only.
The monk enjoyed watching his charge practice with the oar in evening's soft light. He was a good student, dedicated to the physical effort needed for success. What impressed Mah Lin the most was that Arkthar was never satisfied. Any lesson given was always taken further. Not content with just the two-handed grip, he had with great effort learned to cut equally well with both the right arm and the left. Over the course of the passing years he had come far.
Selah and her father marveled how Arkthar had harmonized his foreign ways with theirs. Inspired by the striking posts for training limbs within the cavern, he had built from wood a Celtic cross as big as a man and set it firmly in the ground near the river. This he punished with all five cuts but added also short strikes with the butt of the handle. Every evening the sound of wood striking wood could be heard thundering across their peaceful homestead.
Now it seemed that the five cut method was transforming into a different art. Arkthar had listened well to Selah's explanation of the Five Element Theory. For his warrior mind the idea of subjugation and generation fit neatly into what he knew. He created movement and mindset modeled on the properties of each element. Before long he had captured in body the essence of all five and pushed further to make them one. Mah Lin watched the warrior dance through fire, water, earth, metal, and wood, and was deeply moved.
In the fading light of day, both monk and daughter watched him cut with fury against the cross. When he had finished his work, Arkthar turned to greet them and was surprised to see his teacher holding the Five Element sword unsheathed and in two hands. Although it was unusual, he did not question the monk's purpose. Mah Lin approached without ceremony and exchanged steel for wood. Each now held a different weapon, and each tested the weight and power held within their palms.
The steel that Arkthar held was light compared to the wooden oar. It spoke to him like a young horse urging its rider to loosen the reign and bridle, and fly to furious gallop. Meanwhile the monk assessed the balance of the warrior's wooden weapon, and the range of its cutting arc. He raised the oar slowly above his head, locked eyes with his young student, and attacked ferociously.
For Arkthar all thought and reason disappeared, fled perhaps to the safety of the thick-walled library. Here and now remained only the sound and reflex of flesh and steel defending against real danger. It was the quiet place of an unfettered mind, the place where Death would quickly answer any thought. The forward fury of the monk abated but his eyes remained vigilant. Arkthar realized that with great luck, he had not been touched. This revelation amused the monk, for he knew that the line that separates luck from skill is at best a thin one. Quietly he stood and awaited Arkthar's full reply.
Selah stood frozen, shocked now by the warrior's answer. She had heard of bloodlust but had never seen it. And now she stood mute, a witness to its terrible power as Arkthar released full force upon her father. If Mah Lin was concerned it did not show upon his face, for his features remained focused and serene. When the sound of the attack had finished, her father stood uninjured, but the oar he held was shortened, cleaved neatly in two. Arkthar fought for the reigns of his savagery, trying desperately to halt the finishing blow of his advantage. Through this hesitation the monk flashed forward once again.
He closed the distance in a blur and passed through the warrior as if a ghost. Silence filled the space between them. Looking down, Arkthar saw that his palm held the shortened oar and looking up realized that the blade of Five Elements was now back in the hands of its owner. Both men smiled. Arkthar now understood that the line that separates skill from magic is at best a thin one.
Over the evening meal Mah Lin inquired about the martial school of Arkthar's past and was surprised by his student's answer. “There was none. I learned as I went.” Intrigued now, the priest delved further, “That being so, do you not have some deep conviction?” Arkthar replied, “When I was a child, I once became suddenly aware that a warrior is a man who does not hold his life in regret. Since I have held that in my heart for many years, it has become a deep conviction, and today I never think about my death. Other than that I have nothing.” Mah Lin was deeply moved and said in reply, “The perceptions of my predecessors were not the least bit awry.”
The monk gestured to the severed wooden oar that Arkthar had discarded near the hearth. The warrior thought to feed the useless remnant to the fire when the flames died down. Arktar held it once more and reevaluated its dimensions. Its weight and length was exactly the same as the short sword of his old world, long since buried in his Viken enemy. He tucked it humbly into his belt and bowed his head to his two teachers.
The morning light within the library grew steadily. I heard the rooster rouse his harem and mark the arrival of the new day. As I poured over the original temple manuscripts, my interest was captured. I had seen this word before but was unsure of its meaning. Selah entered quietly, and before she shed the heaviness of sleep I asked her, “What is the sound and meaning of this character?” I looked at its shape undulating on the ancient yellowed page and added, “It seems familiar.”
“I know why you would be intrigued,” Selah always thought carefully before she explained anything, but now she seemed to be thinking longer than usual. She began searching, for she knew that a painting would greatly aid my understanding. “Look, Arkthar,” she said, as she carefully laid a yellowed illustration beside the written character that had caught me in its grip. While I stared at the detailed artwork in disbelief, she added, “Its sound is
loong.
”
I looked at the written word. The fish that climbs the river falls becomes this mythical beast, and I remembered the carved oak prows of the Viken longboats as they churned through ocean waters. I shook this memory from my mind and stared again at the ancient seal script character.
My eyes saw a concept made of two pictures. On the left it seemed a man in armor. Like the tales of legend he stood adorned for battle, and by his side perhaps a sword. On the right a different image, I saw its four thick legs and long neck. It seemed almost grazing upon the landscape of its meaning. Side by side I saw both man and beast. From this written word I looked to the fine details of the ancient painting, and touched the scales, teeth, and claws of the long coiled body. To me it was both beautiful and frightening.
“Selah in the world of my old life we also have this creature, as a child I have heard many stories about this beast we call dragon, and it was a dragon that took me by sail from my home.” My mind was alive now with the creature, and in the way of a novice scholar, I set aside my fears and carefully voiced my rational thoughts, “It is fascinating that such an imaginary creature is a concept in the hearts and minds of people of all places.” The space of her silence, which I mistook for respectful listening, I filled with, “The dragon is a universal myth of great size and significance.”
It sounded like a very wise and well-grounded statement to my ears, but Selah's confused expression quickly transformed into her bright familiar laugh. Laughter of the type that usually meant I had probably said something monumentally foolish. I turned now as Mah Lin entered the small library. He had heard my words and scanned the image on the table, and he too understood, and joined the merriment.
Now it was my turn to be confused, and Mah Lin's turn as a compassionate teacher to alleviate it promptly.
“Arkthar,” he began, “myth often grows from reality, just as it does from the recording of history to the telling of legend.” He paused now to catch my eye and my attention, “Dragons are as real as you and I, and so rightly exist in the hearts and minds of all mankind.”
I felt alone. Dangling once more in the place where solid reality meets with the magical and the fantastic, a place now well familiar in my new land. “You have been training hard with the passing of the seasons,” he said. “Tomorrow we will saddle the horses, and we will ride to touch a dragon. Selah, you can replenish your supply of medicine bones.”
With that he went out about his usual business, and I finished my studies and went on with the day's routine. In the late afternoon, I trained hard my kicking and striking with Mah Lin inside the cavern, but half expected to see two fierce eyes watching me from its corner shadows. In truth I could think of little else.
That evening during our family meal, I ate much and spoke little. My mind was already on horseback, long before the morning came. At sunrise as Selah and Mah Lin fitted out the horses, I thought it prudent to add an early cutting practice with my shortened wooden sword. Although I worked purposefully, the monk and his daughter still managed to laugh at my last minute preparations. I didn't care; I would be ready for any danger that might come my way.
With the shortened oar at my waist, we three began riding out. I felt like a timeless adventurer moving steadily into the unknown. Past oak and raven, past the falls and cavern entrance, and past the great metal lion, we moved progressively forward past the boundaries of the comfortable world that had become my new home. Soon we would reach and enter the world of myth and legend.
For five full days we traveled up river, resting when we were tired and moving when we were refreshed. The landscape changed with our journey from lush and green to brown and sparse. We entered into a land where the very crust of the earth folded upon itself in layers. It reminded me of the metal worked within the forge, folded, hammered, and folded again. Like the metal, this land had long since cooled and hardened.
The horses were tethered, and on foot we traveled along the mighty river's edge where it cut through the landscape like a powerful sword. Walking now high up along the shifting banks, we arrived at our destination. With Selah by my side the monk turned and pointed.
“Arkthar, there sleeps your dragon.”
I moved warily to his right and surveyed the ground before me. At first I saw nothing, but as I stepped forward I began to see the bones, some whole and some shattered by the hand of time. Like the many pieces of an enormous puzzle, my eyes began to piece together the whole. I saw the ribs and vertebrae of a monster of immense size and proportion.
Selah began collecting tiny bone fragments as my eyes collected the overall scale of the creature that lay before me. I saw leg bones that were longer by half than me, and I saw claws the size of a farmer's scythe blade. I was beyond speech and so said nothing. My hands were drawn to touch what was once a living pelvis. I had seen much of Death's handiwork and so was easily able to bring this creature back to flesh within my mind. Slowly I searched until eventually I found the object of my quest.
It rested aloof and alone imbedded by profile to the bedrock that cradled and protected it. I sat now beside the skull almost as big as the horse that had carried me. I saw empty sockets that had once housed seeing eyes, stare sightless but immortal. I saw nostrils that had once breathed the air of life, perched above the jawless mouth. I saw the serrated and still sharp teeth aligned in rows, teeth as big as daggers that I knew had once pierced living flesh.
Here, in the presence of this ancient creature, I was humbled.
“When did he die?” I asked Mah Lin.
“Before the time of men, when the earth was still young and our cave was still just a mountain of fire, this dragon brought the rains,” was the monk's inexplicable reply.
The ride back to our home was a time for quiet reflection. My mind was fully occupied by the dragon that I had actually touched. We had walked the same ground and breathed the same air, but Mah Lin said that dragons were from a time before men. Everything the monk had said was simple, but it would take me much more time to understand these words. For now at least I knew that it is the dragon that brings the rain.
In the evening the three of us sat near the fire and roasted a snared rabbit. Mah Lin enjoyed the catch, and when I was almost finished he taught me to break the bones and suck the marrow, sharing the importance of the lesson, he said, “Without the marrow the hare's meat will only bring starvation.” Looking back from where we had come, we could see the distant lightning flicker through the dark night sky.
In this strange land I had received life and intended now to serve my full sentence. I was a seed dropped into fertile ground and I was, with much help from Mah Lin and Selah, growing. Now sitting by the fire, I spoke more freely in their tongue. Tears of laughter in the middle of serious conversation spoke plainly that I had not yet mastered all its rising and falling tones.
Ironically, amid the strict framework of routine and discipline, I found that never were any two days remotely alike. Everyday I pushed myself harder and further than the day before. It was the skills of a seasoned warrior: patience, focus, persistence, and discipline that aided me in acquiring the skills of peace. Everything was changing, and yet there was comfort and security in the underlying consistency of transformation. Every day was new, and everyday I was new.
“Arkthar, in the great movement of life, the only thing of real permanence is change, and once you realize that all things are changing, there is nothing that you will try to hold onto.”