Maleficia
watercolor pencil, copic pen
© 2012 by A. Dameron
Maleficia
watercolor pencil, copic pen
© 2012 by A. Dameron
Harlequin Dragon
colored pencil
© 2012 by A. Dameron
Taking a Nap
pencil
© 2012 by A. Dameron
Majestica
colored pencil, prismacolor blender, Copic fine point pens
© 2012 by A. Dameron
This took me forever to color and ink, but I like how this turned out.
"Kirin/Girin"
acrylic ink
© 2012 by A. Dameron
A kirin (girin in Korean hangul script) is a symbol of prosperity and serenity in East Asian mythology. The Japanese version here has another name "The Japanese Unicorn". It has the antlers of a deer, the scales of a dragon and the tail of a lion.
The first story of the Second Cycle of "Five Elemental Dragons". All original work © 2012 by A. Dameron, all rights reserved.
Mù: Wood
一棵树有这么多的声音:
静静地听着, 你会听到
琵琶, 二胡, 鼓
涂上红色, 预示着
龙的歌曲。
Yī kē shù yǒu zhème duō de shēngyīn:
Jìng jìng de tīngzhe, nǐ huì tīng dào
Pípá, èrhú, gǔ
Tu shàng hóngsè, yùshìzhe
Lóng de gēqǔ.
One tree has so many sounds:
listen quietly and you will hear
the pipa, the erhu, the drum
painted red, to herald
the dragon's song.
Courtesan's dedication to the maker of her pipa lute
32nd year of the reign of the Iron Emperor
Shang Xin entered the Imperial Pavilion, the train of her blue gown whispering on the tiles as it
trailed behind her. Her hands cradled her erhu, the two-stringed instrument of her profession.
All eyes focused on her as she stopped in the middle of the Pavilion. She lowered her eyes, as
was proper, and curtsied as best as she could within her cumbersome silks.
The Iron Emperor sat on his throne on the south side of the Pavilion, with his family, courtiers
and guards arrayed all around him. His still-handsome features made Shang Xin's heart skip a
beat. She watched him beneath the lowered lids. As always, he cloaked his intentions within a
neutral expression, but she read his eyes.
Joy, sorrow, regret. The knowledge that all things, pleasant and not, eventually come to an
end.
Her heart broke into pieces. He knew...he knew what all the prophecies foretold. If those
predictions were true, his time in this mortal plane had grown short.
All this came between them in the space of a few heartbeats. She gave him the slightest of
nods to show him that she understood.
He stood from his throne and nodded back at her. With a sweep of his broad hand, he
indicated the empty chair in front of a row of pipa players. “Take your place and play for us.”
Shang Xin bowed her head, this time in acknowledgement. Carefully, she unfolded herself
from her crouch and glided towards the empty chair. Her eyes swept the pavilion, carefully
noting who was present. Two of the three gilded chairs next to the Iron Emperor also stood
empty. The Empress of the Black Lotus, the Iron Emperor's wife, was absent. If the rumors
were to believed, the Empress refused to be part of this world, and sought seclusion in the
temple.
Shang Xin didn't blame the Empress one bit. Not this time. Not with the Darkness
encroaching upon Shinwa.
But their daughter, Kai Ming, the Heir to the throne of Shinwa, was also conspicuously
absent. Perhaps she, like her mother the Empress, was visiting the temple. Shang Xin could
understand one of them being excused from this gathering...but both? This was quite
extraordinary.
The musician turned and sat, straight-backed, in her chair. Two attendants darted forward to
help her arrange her skirts out of the way. It gave her the chance to survey the rest of the Iron
Emperor's court—and her heart seized at the sight of the Heir's daughter, Kai Huo, sitting
resplendidly at her grandfather's side.
She is here and not among her soldiers. Her father must have given her an ultimatum. It
is the only explanation for her presence, and adorned in courtly robes instead of her
armor. The thought greatly amused Shang Xin. Kai Huo was her grandfather's pride and joy:
tall and proud, with bewitching black eyes and athletic build. The foremost general of the Iron
Emperor's military forces and a member of the Swordswomen. As noble as her grandfather,
and yet...Shang Xin sensed a thrill of Darkness within the Heir.
One of the attendants gently handed her the bow to the erhu. Shang Xin nodded her thanks,
then readjusted her instrument. The erhu sat almost vertically in her lap, the soundbox resting
against her left thigh, the bow held in an underhanded grip within her right hand. The pipa
players also held their instruments at the ready, thumbs and index fingers poised to pluck
the silk strings. Further behind them stood the drummers, the gong and chime ringers. To
Shang Xin's left sat two dizi players, lips ready to blow into their bamboo woodwinds.
They all awaited the Iron Emperor's request.
He turned to Kai Huo, who stared up at her grandfather with a confused expression. The Iron
Emperor nicked his head at the marble stones of the Pavilion. Understanding dawned on the
girl's face, then she stood, untied the outer robe of her formal silks, and walked down the
steps. A murmur went through the court at the unusual action.
“I wish to see my granddaughter perform the hùdié wǔ, as a testament to her grace and
prowess.”
A shocked gasp went through the court. Shang Xin's eyes widened in surprise as the other
musicians hurriedly re-tuned their instruments. The hùdié wǔ, the Butterfly Dance, was
reserved for the Swordswomen, the defenders of Shinwa. It was normally hidden from public
view, a secret shared among those initiated.
But the Iron Emperor changed all that with a single command. Shang Xin's fingers gripped the
neck of her erhu in sudden panic. Of all the songs he could have asked, why that one? And
why now?
She shook herself out of her rampant thoughts. There was a reason. There was always a
reason, and it was not her place to question his reasons.
Kai Huo stood in her snow-white silk underrobe, long hair unbound and her bare feet upon
the marble tiles. She unsheathed the blade at her side, prompting another sigh from the Court,
this time in awe. Her weapon was truly made by a artisan, elegant and deadly at the same
time.
She glanced over her shoulder at Shang Xin. The curtain of black hair obscured her face, but
Shang Xin thought she saw the black eyes glitter in the light. “Kaishi,” Kai Huo commanded.
“Begin.”
Shang Xin touched the bow to the strings and played a single trembling note. The pipa joined
in, then the dizi and the drums, gongs and chimes, in an upswell of emotion. Kai Huo slowly
raised the sword, unfolding like a catepillar out of its cocoon, to greet the world as a butterfly.
The upswell exploded into a series of notes and Shang Xin chased them with her bow, her
fingers dancing upon the fretboard. She allowed herself to fall into the rhythm of the music, felt
its wind through her hair, and then her soul was flying upon the back of an Emerald Dragon.
The Emerald Dragon circled the sky above the Pavilion, its powerful wings beating against the
air. Shang Xin Saw without Seeing, the lone white-garbed warrior in the center, her sword
slashing and cutting invisible enemies on all sides. To her surprise, the Emerald Dragon spoke.
“Look there, deep within the blade. Do you see it, Songstress?”
Shang Xin narrowed her eyes. Yes, there, within the deep layers of Kai Huo's sword...was
that a mist rising? The ethereal smoke swirled and reformed into a second dragon. Flint gray
eyes, silver scales and claws...Shang Xin's breath froze in her throat. Was that...?
“My cousin, Tiě Wù. Iron Mist. The guardian of the sword,” the Emerald Dragon confirmed.
She angled again for another pass over the Pavilion. “He prevents Kai Huo from becoming
overzealous in her pursuit of justice.”
“Isn't that a thankless assignment?” The blunt question surprised her, even as she watched Tiě
Wù's transparent body whip around Kai Huo's in some strange counterpoint. To Shang Xin's
Sight, it appeared that Iron Mist formed a mystical barrier that pulsed in time with the music.
She understood and sped up the tempo. The Emerald Dragon also beat her wings faster,
gathering power and speed in flight. The symphony rose up again all around them, thundering
pell-mell towards its ultimate conclusion. The drums pounded, the chimes crashed, as Kai
Huo swept her sword for the final kill.
The erhu wailed a single cry, as the other instruments abruptly went silent, and the sword
slashed downward. A burst of Darkness exploded from around Kai Huo, slammed against the
protective shield made by Tiě Wù, and flare brightly at the impact. The Darkness vanished as
quickly as it had appeared.
Kai Huo collapsed on the marble, all energy spent, the sword tumbling from limp fingers. Her
arms and legs splayed out, the white silk arrayed all around her, and her face turned towards
the sky. Those black eyes gazed upward, and Shang Xin shivered at the utter satisfaction in
that face. Tiě Wù circled around the sword one last time before an otherwordly force pulled
him back into the steel. The Emerald Dragon threw back her head and roared in mourning.
And Shang Xin sat up straight with a jolt as the Imperial Court erupted into wild applause.
The performance had ended, the music gone, and her soul ached beyond measure.
“My Lady...your bow, your hands--”
The bow's single string lay broken in her lap. The erhu's twin strings had also snapped under
the strain, the silk hanging limply on the fretboard. The fingers of both her hands bled where
she had gripped the erhu and where the bow had cut into the skin. She looked up at the
concerned expression of one of the pipa players, but did not see it.
“Attend to the Lady! Her hands are bleeding!” the authoritative tone cut through the chatter.
Shang Xin managed to lift up her head and met the stern gaze of the Iron Emperor himself. His
callused hands held her wrists, even as the blood soaked the silks of her robe and dripped
onto the erhu.
I have seen the Darkness. I have played too long. Her arms trembled and she nearly
fainted where she sat. Shang Xin saw Kai Huo standing behind and to her grandfather's right,
the place of honor. Shang Xin thought she would become sick to her stomach at that sight.
“I can no longer play,” she whispered.
Kai Huo's brow furrowed in confusion, and the Iron Emperor's expression mirrored it. “We
can repair your instrument, Lady,” he said, almost tenderly. His grip tightened around Shang
Xin's wrists. “You will rest and heal, and grace us with your music again.”
It took all her effort to look up at the weathered face. She freed one of her hands and gently
touched his cheek. She could feel her soul grow lighter, as the wind carried her upwards,
upon the back of the Emerald Dragon, away from the Darkness.
“No, my Lord. My song has ended and another one has begun.” She managed a smile.
“Forgive me, Kai Ren. I will never touch the strings again.”
The silence in the courtyard deepened as the breeze stirred the chimes. Then they, too, fell
silent, like the broken strings of the erhu.
My newest collection of short stories, "Five Elemental Dragons: Cycle One" is now available on Smashwords! In the mythical land of Shinwa, five young women gain five unlikely dragon avatars. This collection is the first of a duology (Cycle Two will be coming out soon!) for the Chinese Year of the Dragon 2012.
The link for all my books on Smashwords is here: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/mamajava1
Download for "Five Elemental Dragons: Cycle One" is $1.00. Also available are "A Patchwork of Life" (short stories), "From the Dark Side of Shadow" (Short Stories), "Under the Sakura Tree" (Japanese poetry) and "Women in Color" (art book).
Reviews for this e-book and my other e-books are much appreciated. If you are interested in book reviews, please contact me. Thanks.
Anne
Hybrida
Oil Pencil, Sakura Pigma Sensei Markers
© 2012 by A. Dameron
A strange dragon who had inherited many different features from his ancestors.
After a long unavoidable delay, here's a second preview of my newest collection of short stories, Tales of the Elemental Dragon. Original work copyright 2012 by A. Dameron, all rights reserved. Thanks.
Earth: Tŭ
填写你的腹部与水稻
但不放纵
地球在其赛季
在每个季节, 一些岩石也会下降
Tiánxiě nǐ de fùbù yǔ shuǐdào
Dàn bù fàngzòng.
Dìqiú zài qí sàijì
Zài měi gè jìjié, yīxiē yánshí yě huì xiàjiàng.
Fill your belly with rice
but do not overindulge.
Earth gives in its season
and in each season, some rocks will fall.
--song included in the Planting Ceremony, Kuijang River Village
The Yangyu River wound past the Iron Emperor's capital, through ditches and canals, before
splitting into several branches. Many of those branches ended at the Maelstrom coast; others
bypassed the Siang Plateau, favoring the northern route instead. Kuijang flowed north, then
west, to nourish the rice paddies of the villages and towns. The Goddess of Shinwa smiled
upon the farmers and their kin and provided good harvest.
“Tu Xiao! Tu Xiao! They're getting ready for the Planting Ceremony! We don't want to be
late!”
Xiao laughed and tucked her cotton tunic into her pants, then adjusted the simple fabric
headband. Her five year old sister tugged her towards the door of their hut. Tu Nai's pigtails
bounced on her shoulders with every movement.
“I'm coming, Nai! I'm coming!”
“You are as vain as the water buffalo in the Yangyu Canal! You look like...well, like older
sisters are supposed to look!” Nai pouted, but her dark eyes sparkled in the morning sun.
Xiao sighed and followed Nai down the rocky path towards the riverbank. The village of
Renqiu sprawled far below them, with shops and houses surrounding the main square. The
thatched roofs stretched towards the sky; to Xiao's eyes, it looked like a furry mountain in
summer clothes.
Delicious smells floated past their noses. Fish stewed in broth, with beans and celery
harvested from the gardens. Strips of dried beef wrapped in bread dough and covered with
sauce. Berry juice, freshly pressed and mixed with pure water from the village well. Xiao's
stomach growled as she and Nai entered the main group of buildings. Big Chao the cook
greeted both girls and sat them down on benches. He ladled steaming fish soup in clay bowls,
scooped equal portions of white rice on plates, and poured a generous amount of berry juice
in mugs.
“Eat everything,” Big Chao commanded, with a sweep of his beefy arm. “You will both need
your strength for the Spring Planting. I will not tolerate any refusal.”
“Yes, Big Chao,” chirped Nai. She slurped her soup and speared the filets with her
chopsticks. Xiao laughed again and brought her attention to her own food. As usual, Big Chao
outdid himself with the simple fare. Xiao thought that the Iron Emperor himself would find this
meal quite filling.
The dining hut slowly filled with other workers. Xiao watched as the wizened form of Tian Re
shuffled into the room. The village headsman bore every one of his eighty-five years; scars
from river sharks criss-crossed the skin of his legs and his features were bronzed by the
relentless sun. Nevertheless, Xiao watched as Tian Re's posture straightened, like a withered
vine tasting water after a long drought. His eyes were clouded with silver cataracts, but there
was no question about his Sight.
“So, Big Chao, not too big or too small a portion, if you please,” Tian Re called. He laid his
walking stick against his bench. “Most of the food should go to the younger generation, like
the Tu girls over there. They are our future.”
Nai jumped up off her bench and scurried to Big Chao. She accepted the new bowl of fish
soup and shuffled over to Tian Re, her head bowed in respect. “Please, Honorable Tian,
accept this on behalf of me and my sister. We've already eaten, so you can have as much as
you want. I insist.”
Tian Re glanced at Xiao, who only shrugged good-naturedly. He re-focused his attention on
the little girl in front of him. “Then I give my sincere thanks to the giver, for she is wise and
respectful to her elders. How old are you now, Little Tu?”
“I am five,” Nai said proudly, “and old enough to help.”
“Indeed.” Tian Re accepted the bowl with both hands. “Then I am sure your help will be much
appreciated today.”
Nai flushed with pleasure as she bobbed her head again in embarrassment. She scampered
back to her bench and proceeded to demolish her plate of rice with all the speed of youth.
“You are doing well in raising her, Tu Xiao,” Tian Re said. “I have every confidence that the
Goddess will smile upon you.”
Xiao nodded and managed to finish the rest of her food. Ever since the river flood that took
their parents, she guarded Nai like a fierce mother dragon. Most sixteen-year-old youths
eagerly ventured out into the world outside their village. Others prepared for marriage and a
lifetime of hard work. Xiao resigned herself to the latter as her fate. Her blood was tied to the
land of Shinwa, and it would always be so.
A grain of rice clung stubbornly to her trousers. Xiao firmly picked it off with a gentle hand.
Her fastidious appearance was her one lone indulgence. A long day in the rice paddies often
left her dusty and water-logged, but at the end of the day, Xiao took care of herself.
Both girls waited patiently as Tian Re finished his soup and rice. He rose from his bench, took
his walking stick in one hand, and extended the other to Xiao. Nai skipped ahead of them,
following the path to the river bank.
“You seem too serious, Xiao,” Tian Re observed in a low voice. “You are barely in the middle
of your spring years. Are you in such a hurry to grow?”
She sighed; he was the only one who even noticed enough to care. “Fate, Honorable Tian. I
left my childhood behind years ago.”
“The earth is a generous mistress, but her tasks can be cruel. Every day follows in season. If
winter comes before summer, we would all starve.” He softened his words with a smile. “Do
not live contrary to Her will, or you too, will starve.”
She inclined her head at his wise words and murmured, “I will try harder, Honorable Tian.”
The entire village appeared at the rice paddies, from Honorable Tian to the day-old infant in
swaddling clothes. Honorable Tian nodded at Priest Rui Ba, who nodded back. Rui Ba
traveled among the villages bordering the Yanggu River, and his services were in much
demand. One of his most popular requests was the Planting Festival blessing. He gazed over
the gathered villagers, then raised his hands up to the sky.
“We beseech you, Beloved Goddess of Shinwa, to shower your gifts on this earth and bring
forth the green shoots of life--” Rui Ba's sonorous voice carried over the people, who
murmured the proper responses.
Xiao shifted from leg to leg, eager for the long ceremony to be over. Nai echoed her
restlessness by fiddling with her apron strings. The soft mud gave way under their feet and
slowly filled with river water. Xiao gritted her teeth as she felt it between her toes.
Finally, Rui Ba invoked the Blessed Goddess of Shinwa, the Goddess of the Deep, the
Mistresses of Air and Fire, the Nymph of Wood and the Warrior of Iron. He bowed in the
Four Directions, then the four Minor Directions, and wove his protections over the village, the
rice paddies, and the step terraces in the hills and mountains. He took a handful of mud and
threw it back towards the river, as he chanted spells against the Flood God.
Xiao kept her eyes downcast. The Flood God never listened to the prayers of Man. He
proved that by taking her parents.
After another salute to the Four Directions, Rui Ba clapped his hands to signal the end of the
blessing. A sigh of relief rose from the assembled crowd. They quickly got together in their
groups: some headed for the paddies along the river, and others to the hills and mountains
beyond. Xiao and Nai were part of this latter group; they climbed the dirt road leading to
Terraced Hill Number One.
“Sister, look!” Nai gasped as they reached their assigned plot. “You can see the village from
here!”
She followed Nai's outstretched hand to the brilliant view in front of them. The village huts
gleamed in the sunlight, as if they were the gold roofs of the Iron Emperor's Pavilion. The
Yanggu River snaked its way down from the Double Hills, past the village's rice paddies, on
its way to the Maelstrom Coast.
“Yes,” Xiao agreed, “the view is quite spectacular, isn't it?”
Hours flew by as she showed Nai how to plant the tender shoots in neat rows. They had to be
spaced just right, not too closely together and not to far away. It was hard, backbreaking
work. Nai's initial enthusiasm waned as reality set in, and her chatter grew less and less. Xiao
was careful to pace their progress so Nai wouldn't tire so easily. They stopped to eat and
drink, but their main focus was on the work.
“Is it always like this, Sister?”
“Sometimes we sing to pass the time, and sometimes we tell stories.”
“My feet hurt and my back aches.”
“Just a little more, Nai, then we can go home for supper.”
“I want to wash off this mud. It makes me itchy. And you look like a mud monster.”
“Mud's supposed to be good for the skin. It helps prolong your youth; that's what Old Ying
says.”
“I don't want to be young forever. I want to grow up and see the world and do things other
than plant rice shoots in the middle of a pool on the side of the hill.”
Xiao tried not to laugh at Nai's petulant expression, but it was difficult. She shook her head
and said, “You say that because you're only five. Don't be in such a hurry to grow up.”
The sun dipped low in the sky by the time the planting was over. Xiao surveyed their little plot
and felt a thrill of pride at their accomplishment. Nai blinked at the neat rows and asked, “Did we do that?”
“Yes, we did, and you helped. Come on, Nai, let's go home.”
They made their way back to the dirt road. Xiao matched her sister's slower pace, despite the
fact she was eager for a bath and clean clothes. Other villagers were also heading back to the
village, their day's work completed. The sound of their sandals on the stones was loud in the
darkness.
Nai stumbled and nearly fell on the road. Xiao grabbed her by the arm and steadied her on
her feet. “Nai, are you all right?”
“I'm fine, but--” The ground shifted underneath their feet and threw both girls off balance. Xiao
threw out a hand and cushioned her sister's fall. Shrieks of fear and pain echoed up and down
the road. The rumble of stone and dirt stirred in the background, from farther up the hill.
“It's a rockslide!” shouted a villager. “Run for your lives!”
Xiao's heart pounded in her chest as she literally scooped Nai into her arms and ran towards
the village. Dust billowed in the air all around them, growing thicker by the minute. She
coughed and forced her aching legs to keep up. If she stumbled and fell, she knew that neither
she nor Nai would ever rise again. The earth trembled, then bucked violently as the wave of
debris slid down the mountain.
Nai pressed her face against Xiao's breast as the rumbles increased and the earth shook
violently under them. People scattered in all directions towards the Yanggu. Xiao smelled
rough, salty soil and knew they would never make it to the village. Flakes of rock stung the
back of her legs; the chaotic wave was nearly upon them.
She could feel the Hand of Darkness reach out for them.
I'm so sorry, Nai. I've failed to protect you. Tears blurred her vision and streamed down
her dirty face. The cold hand of death reached out for them and pushed Xiao to her knees. All
she could do was hold Nai as tightly as she could and pray.
She didn't expect the Goddess to answer her prayer.
A different roar reverberated around them, a lower pitch than the earth. Warm wind rushed
past them and to Xiao's shock, the outrush of rock stopped its onslaught. It didn't ease
gradually; it just stopped.
“What's happening?” Nai's voice was muffled against her skin.
“I...don't know.” She managed to raise her head slightly and look up into the sky. Her mouth
dropped as she saw dark shapes silhouetted against the sun. Not just one, but at least a
dozen. Each one of those long shapes owned four long limbs that ended in sharp claws. No
wings, but powerful tails that swept away the boulders before they landed on the village.
Four of those dragons arched their backs and sped downward with military precision. They
passed so low over the girls' heads that both Xiao and Nai involuntarily ducked as they went
by. Side by side, they dipped low, opened their mouths, and with their teeth, dug a deep
trench at the bottom of the mountain. They wove between the terraced hills, dredging new
canals where there had been none before. The debris that somehow bypassed the first
vanguard dropped into the deep trenches.
Xiao realized that Terraced Hill Number One, the plot of land her family had tended for
generations, still stood untouched by the rockslide. Water flowed into the trench at the bottom
of the hill, irrigating the land for new rice paddies. Her eyes widened as she realized that the
dragons had effectively doubled the area.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Oh, thank you!”
The four dragons arced up and away to join their brethren. The lead one, a soft cinnamon-
brown with a yellow beard around its snout and face, glanced back and gazed directly back at
her. Xiao saw it wink once, and heard a mental voice replied, You're welcome, Child of the
Earth. My name is Jiahe. You will have an extra special harvest this year.
Then Jiahe and his cadre of fellow Earth Dragons disappeared into the sky. Shocked silence
came over the village for exactly one heartbeat, then the villagers broke out in cheers and
grateful prayers to the Goddess and Her avatars of the land.
“Did he say his name was Jiahe?” Nai whispered. Her eyes were still riveted on the skies
above Terraced Hill Number One. “'Golden Harvest'?”
“A good name for him, don't you agree?” Xiao asked her gently.
“Yes, indeed, Sister. Will he return?”
She managed a smile. “I think so, Nai. I think he and his brothers will return. They are from
the Goddess, after all.”