The Dragon Awakens (A Dragon With Fur Book 1)

  The Dragon Awakens: A Dragon With Fur book # 1

  by A. J. Chaudhury

  Copyright © 2017 Akhoy Jyoti Chaudhury

  All rights reserved

  About the author: I am a young author hailing from Assam, India. Writing has been the only constant in my life and I hope to make it big one day. You can visit my blog http://ajchaudhury.wordpress.com/ where I often interview indie authors.

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  Special thanks to John, Deborah and C. J. for help with the editing.

  Time to get up.

  Amit grimaced, his eyes still shut. He hated his brain. How did it always know when it was time to be up? He opened his eyes. It was morning and he could hear roosters crowing. He grimaced again. Time for work.

  He removed the blanket from his body and immediately caught a chill. It would be winter in a few days and then he would need the firewood bad. He dragged himself from the bed and went out of his one-room house. He went to the well and pulled up a bucket of icy water, still quite sleepy. After he had done his needs and gotten fresh and the sleep had finally left him, he retrieved his ever faithful chopper from below his bed and left for the hills.

  Aunt Laxmi, his neighbour, was watering her vegetable garden. A plump lady, she had a warm smile always playing on her lips. Too bad her son, Vivek, had fractured his legs sometime ago and she was working twice as hard to meet needs, losing some weight in the process. Aunt Laxmi greeted Amit on seeing him.

  “Bound to the hills?”

  “Have to get some wood,” Amit replied with a smile.

  “Bring some for me too. Winter is coming and the water is getting colder every day. Vivek needs warm water.”

  “I will,” Amit said. Due to Vivek, Aunt Laxmi had been buying more wood from him so Amit actually had some coin to spare on ale and the like for a few days. It wasn’t the best thought, but the truth was what it was.

  Amit made his way towards the Frozen Lake, away from the houses of the villagers. The lake had always mystified Amit. It was frozen all the year round, even in blistering summer when not a drop of water survived out of shade. Now wispy vapour floated above the lake, which was easily one-sixth the size of their village. Nobody knew what caused the lake to be frozen. Some of the older villagers said that a great beast dwelt in its depths. They claimed that during the time of their fathers, the ice had suddenly cracked one day and then somebody had seen a big head emerge on the surface of the lake, right at the centre, before disappearing in an instant. The lake had then frozen again completely in a day’s time.

  Maybe one morning like today, Amit thought, the ice will crack once again and I’ll have a glimpse of the great beast. He would be able to boast about it to people till he drew his last breath.

  Amit looked at the skies. No sign of his pigeon, Ritu. He hoped the bird would be home by the time he returned with the firewood. The fear that someone would shoot down Ritu always plagued his heart. If that happened then the luxury of communicating with Mayesha everyday would be gone.

  Amit had first met Mayesha about a month ago at the yearly fair in the little town of Maskhowa, which was about twenty kilometres to the south.

  He had fallen for her the moment he saw her amidst her friends. How he had managed the guts to actually speak to her he didn’t know. But he had, and she seemed interested in him. She had given him her pet bird, Ritu, so the two of them could keep in touch after the fair. Amit had been very worried that Ritu would not reach Mayesha’s home when he had first sent her a letter through Ritu. But apparently the bird knew its way well, and the very next day Ritu returned with a letter from Mayesha. Amit didn’t know how long the relation would last, especially since the only time the two of them had met was at the fair. But the letters meant that the roots of love were still in ground and there was hope. He planned to visit Mayesha the coming month.

  When Amit reached the spot from where he usually cut firewood, he set to work. Unlike other wood cutters he knew, Amit preferred cutting branches instead of bringing down entire trees and chopping them to pieces. So he climbed up one big tree and began hacking at one branch after the other until each fell down. His muscles felt leaden, but the cold abandoned him altogether and so he rather enjoyed the strenuous work.

  It was when Amit was finally tiring that a scene unfolded in the distance and grabbed his attention. At least ten wolves were chasing a person on the frozen lake. The person was Mitral, a newcomer who had arrived in their village last year but had left suddenly a couple of months ago. The villagers had been worried that something had happened to Mitral due to his disappearance. But here he was, being chased by wolves. Mitral was skidding on the ice and occasionally tumbling down and it was a wonder that the wolves hadn’t caught him so far.

  But if they did they were sure to rip him to pieces. Amit couldn’t allow that, not when everything was going on in front of his eyes. He had to intervene by all means.

  Amit climbed down and raced towards the lake. He wanted to sit down and catch his breath, which was already strained due to his previous labour, but he pushed on. Maybe he could scare away the wolves with his chopper.

  Mitral saw him and ran towards him, arms flailing wildly.

  “Help me!”

  Amit picked up some stones and threw them at the wolves as Mitral reached him and cowered behind him. The wolves made angry noises, but Amit held his ground, his chopper raised and ready, lest any animal lunged at him.

  “Back off!” Amit yelled at the wolves. They wouldn’t understand his words, but his tone would be obvious to them. The wolves continued to make angry sounds. Amit could not help but shiver with fright and wondered what would happen if the wolves didn’t go away. Thankfully, after some time they slowly retreated and disappeared into the woods.

  The threat gone, only now Amit remembered he was standing barefoot on ice and the stinging cold shot up his legs.

  “We would rather move away from this lake,” Amit told Mitral.

  “Okay,” the latter replied, his teeth chattering due to fright and cold.

  “So how did the wolves get you?” Amit asked Mitral after sometime as the two sat down on grass wet with dew.

  “They weren’t any ordinary wolves!” Mitral said and then his eyes widened, as though he had spoken more than he meant to.

  “What do you mean?” Amit asked as doubt on Mitral quickly sprouted in his mind. Had those been werewolves?

  Mitral hesitated, then decided to go all out.

  “Werewolves they were,” he said, not meeting Amit’s eyes.

  Amit got to his feet, refusing to believe his ears.

  “I don’t understand. Werewolves and humans are at peace… They only attack vampires.”

  Mitral put his hands over his face.

  “I am one,” he confessed.

  Amit could only stare at Mitral. In the north war was going on between the vampire and werewolf races. The kingdom of Sardinia had been declared a neutral zone due to its human majority. The vampires and the werewolves were breaking the treaty by bringing their war to Sardinia. While werewolves were known to dwell in the woods in northern regions, vampires were a wholly alien race to Sardinia. Amit recalled the strange death of a pig belonging to a fellow villager called Uncle Mada. Now he knew what had killed the pig.

  “Why are you coming here?” he asked Mitral and he didn’t care if his words were offensive. “You killed Uncle Mada’s pig and quenched your thirst for blood, right?”

  Mitral nodded. His facial muscles convulsed suddenly and he let out a remorsefu
l sound.

  “I was going mad… what could I do?” Mitral said, sobbing. “I thought I could suppress my thirst for blood and live among the humans in peace. But how could I go against how the gods designed our nature? One night I was losing my head thinking of blood, so I ran away from your village to the woods. But I am no hunter, the rabbits and squirrels I caught occasionally had little blood in them. Deer were too fast for me and I was on the verge of insanity. So I returned to the village one night and… that pig. If I had the money I would have bought it first!”

  A moment of silence passed, Mitral’s lips quivering with high emotion. Amit considered the man. He had heard well about the mad thirst vampires had for blood and how it made them ignore all sense and lose control over themselves. He was sure that if there was no pig nearby the next time Mitral went crazy for blood, Mitral would kill a human to calm his inner beast.

  Mitral had to go.

  “Those werewolves would have killed you,” he told Mitral, his voice vacant of emotion.

  “Aye,” Mitral replied. “They would have torn me to a thousand pieces. I guess they didn’t wasn’t to shift into human form in front of you so they went away.”

  “I saved your life, you agree?”

  Mitral looked at Amit with confusion in his teary eyes.

  “I… do.”

  “You are in my debt. You must do what I tell you to.”

  “I- I will, of course!”

  “You must go away from these parts once and for all. If you do not, I will inform every villager about your identity. Not only werewolves, but humans as well would be hunting for you then.”

  “I have nowhere to go!” Mitral cried. Amit raised his chopper slightly to indicate that he could get violent if need be.

  “This is for your own good, Mitral,” Amit said, keeping his tone cold. “Humans and werewolves have lived in relative peace for ages in these parts. You want to bring your war to our kingdom, eh? It was the vampires who started it all, am I not right, killing cattle of werewolves in the border areas?”

  “They have stricter laws in the south,” Mitral said, his watery voice begging for mercy.

  Haven’t I shown enough mercy already? Amit thought.

  “Where you go is up to you. But gone you must be. Next time news of another pig’s mysterious death reaches my ears, consider yourself done for. So you better go.”

  So saying, Amit turned on his heels and left the spot. The sound of Mitral’s sobs followed him for sometime as he walked to the place where he had been cutting wood. When he looked back there was no sign of Mitral.

  Amit’s mind was filled with thoughts about Mitral and the vampires as he carried the wood back to his house. Had he done the right thing? If he had known Mitral was a vampire he would have never gone to save Mitral from the werewolves by risking his own life. He did not feel any pity for Mitral or the other vampires. They were the root of their own grievances. In the southern parts of Sardinia several vampires had been hung mainly for crimes like killing cattle for quenching blood thirst. It was evident that Sardinia wouldn’t be a neutral kingdom for long, the neighbouring ones having already pledged their alliance to the werewolves.

  It was only when Amit reached his house and heard the flutter of wings above his head that his mood lightened. It was Ritu, a letter tied to his leg. Amit took the bird inside and removed the letter from Ritu's leg. He put Ritu in a cage and excitedly unfolded the letter. It was shorter than Mayesha’s usual, but it sent excitement coursing through him anyway.

  Amit,

  I might come to your village tomorrow. I’ll send you a letter through Ritu before we leave from home. Some others will be there too so I don’t know if I’ll be able to meet you, but I’ll try.

  Mayesha.

  That would be a good thing in a long while, Amit thought. He longed to see Mayesha again. He read the letter over and over again just to convince himself it was true. He grabbed his pillow, as though it were a person, his heart going butterflies. Then his stomach groaned and he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything since morning. Suppressing his hunger he wrote a reply letter to Mayesha— a little poem about his delight to see her again. He folded it as many times as he could and tied it to Ritu’s leg before letting the bird fly away.

  After breakfast however, thoughts of Mitral floated back to his mind. Recently some more people had moved in to their village. Were the newcomers vampires as well? He really wanted to find out. But how? It reckoned it would be rude if he simply asked the newcomers if they were blood thirsty vampires. What if they weren’t? It would be like an insult and Amit didn’t think they would respond very nicely to him.

  The firewood.

  Wouldn’t he be going around the village selling firewood? Maybe he could ask the newcomers if they needed firewood and in the process find out their true identity? It was well known after all that garlic repelled Vampires like nothing else. If any newcomer behaved oddly he would know their true identity.

  He didn’t have garlic.

  Aunt Laxmi was an easy solution to the problem and he also delivered her share of wood when he went to her house asking for garlic. He was almost about to say that he didn’t need the money when she offered him both the garlic and the money for the firewood together, but held back his tongue just in time.

  Never say ‘no’ when someone offers you lovely coins, a voice yelled in his head.

  “How’s Vivek?” he asked instead.

  “As usual,” she replied with a sad smile. “Tries to stand on his feet before the pain gets too severe and he needs my help to lay him back to rest.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “Of course, come in.”

  Vivek was sitting on his bed. His eyes were focused on some spot on the wall opposite him and his brows were drawn together in a foul frown.

  “Hey!” Amit said, making Vivek snap out of his trance.

  “Amit,” Vivek said and tried to smile. But his smile came off as an awkward expression, full of gloom.

  “What are you doing?” Amit said, and at once regretted as Vivek’s face darkened.

  “Sitting,” he replied.

  Amit went and sat next to him on his bed.

  “You will get well, Vivek,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “I guess,” Vivek said. “Someday maybe. Though I don’t think I’ll be able to run fast again.”

  Vivek had won every single race at every fair that had been organised in the past two years.

  “Hey Amit,” Aunt Laxmi called from the other room. “Tell him to smile sometimes. I slave away for him all day and all I get in return are grimaces and frowns and eyes swimming in self pity.”

  Amit grinned.

  “She’s right, you know,” he told Vivek. “Be happy. You’ll heal faster if you are happy, I promise… plus, look at the luxuries of getting your leg fractured,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “your mother doesn’t even scold you for not going to master Mahendra’s place!”

  Master Mahendra was the scholar of their village. He seemed to know a lot about everything. He taught young people such things as reading and writing and history and geography.

  Vivek smiled— a genuine one.

  “I guess you’ve got a point there,” he said. “But I’ll have to go there after I get well. You are lucky that you’ve left the classes forever.”

  Amit himself had been going to master Mahendra’s place until recently deciding that he had had enough education. Master Mahendra charged money for his lessons— he had to for he was a frail man and there was no other way he could support himself and his family— and Amit needed money for other things more. Yes, half knowledge was a dangerous thing, but he didn’t have a choice. Besides, it wasn’t really possible to have full knowledge. There was always more to learn about something or the other.

  “You know it’s because I can’t afford it,” Amit said. He just wanted to make it clear to Vivek that he wasn’t the only one having problems in life and not to incite sympathy o
r anything—Amit actually enjoyed not going to the master’s house every morning.

  “Nah, you won’t be going there even if you had the money,” Vivek said, grinning. Now that was the Vivek of old.

  “True!” said Amit.

  After some more minutes of talk, Amit got up to leave.

  “What’s the garlic for?” Vivek asked suddenly.

  “How did you know?” Amit said, surprised. The main door was far away from Amit’s room and he couldn’t have possibly heard Amit asking garlic from Aunt Laxmi earlier. Plus, he had put the garlic in his pocket and Vivek hadn’t seen it either.

  “My sense of smell has sharpened I guess,” Vivek said, winking.

  Amit returned to his house and gathered the remaining firewood. He tied up everything with a rope and heaved all the wood onto his back. Then he set off from his house. To lighten the load, he sold some of it to people who usually bought wood from him and then he began visiting the houses of the newcomers. The first house where he asked already had a quantity of wood and they said they didn’t want to buy anymore. The beefy man of the house who came out to talk with him did not make any expression that suggested he was being affected by the smell of the garlic in Amit’s pocket. Therefore Amit went to the house of the next newcomer— a mother and daughter family.

  He placed the wood on the ground near the doorstep ad stretched himself, his back aching. He could have already sold the wood to so many loyal customers and relieved himself of the labour, yet he was here, sweating away. The sun was higher up in the sky and the morning cold had gone. Boy, he did care for his village, didn’t he? So much for finding out vampires in disguise.

  Amit knocked on the door.

  “Hello!”

  After a couple of minutes the door opened. Amit couldn’t help but stare. It was the daughter, Ritika or whatever her name was. She was so beautiful that Amit found his voice stuck in his throat for a moment. And then she put her hands over her face and ran back in.

  Now, what was that?