Copyright © 2017 by A-M Morse

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“Japheth. Open your eyes. We are at the Tigris River.”

Japh heard Tochen and opened his eyes. After three days of sitting in the small wicker gufa and swaying on the waves, his behind, as well as his mind, was numb. He watched the sea of reeds give way to a large river as the small vessel continued forward. Becoming caught up in the faster currents of the Tigris River, the gufa rocked side to side. The boat was slowly pulled to a small docking area tucked in amongst the reeds on the left side of the river.

Japheth slowly stood in the gently swaying vessel and stretched his tall frame, causing his muscles to sing with joy. He rubbed at the stubble on his face and stretched again before stepping out onto what looked to be solid ground. After a few moments, he felt the ground shift slightly under him. His eyes widened in surprise.

“It is because we have been sitting so long. Come, the feeling will pass in a bit. Walk with me to the river.”

Japheth shook his head, causing his dreadlocks to fall behind his shoulders, and followed Tochen. They pushed through the reeds until they were standing on a rocky beach in the shade of a tamarisk tree. “This is better,” said Japh. He let his gaze range along the length and width of the Tigris, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun reflecting off the water. “Finally, I can move unencumbered by the casks, and my vision is not hampered by the reeds.”

On the river’s far shore, an egret stood on one leg in a shallow eddy. It balanced, regal and placid, while a small group of ducks swam around and dove for food. Upriver were well-trod paths similar to the towpaths that lined the canals they just left, but the ground was rocky and steep as the river dropped from its high birthplace in the wilderness domain of Methuselah.

Japh focused his gaze on the mountain peaks. A flight of dragons bedecked with harnesses and riders was winging its way north, seemingly aiming for a white gash in the mountains. He sighed and looked south. Even though he could not see it, he knew the Euphrates and Tigris joined together further downstream and made their way to the Bitter Sea.

“The men are emptying the gufa, but there is still time tonight to find a donkey or camel caravan to carry our goods northward.” Tochen pointed to the mountains. “We will cross the river just above The Tears of God.”

Japheth looked at the mountain range. “The Tears of God?”

“Yes, that white stripe between the mountains. It is where the Tigris falls over a cliff.”

Japh looked at the slash that started halfway down the mountain and fell in a straight line to its base. He shook his head. “We should take a dragon, it would be quicker.”

“We have already discussed how Noah feels about that. Now come and make yourself useful.” Tochen pointed to a path that led away from the river. “On that path is a small settlement that has food and drink and places to sleep. While I look for a caravan going north, you need to direct the men to take the casks to the settlement.”

Japheth nodded. He walked back to the gufa and looked at the men placing the casks in a haphazard pile on the muddy ground. He shook his head. “No,” he said. “You must take the casks all the way to the settlement’s rest house.”

They looked in his direction, noting his steel-blue eyes. He raised an eyebrow at their questioning glance. One by one they each shouldered a cask and began walking up the trail.

A lean man talking with a group of people saw what was happening. He bowed to the group and made his way to Japheth. “Here now, we could have made good time on our way back. We already have passengers and cargo.”

Japheth looked at the man standing in front of him, unburdened by a cask. “Noah has paid you well to see these casks to safety.”

“But you are not Noah. His man has walked away, leaving them here.”

“I am not Noah.” Japheth smiled, showing his teeth. “But you know I am his son, and he would not be pleased to find out you did not fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Japh’s smile faded; his gaze became hard. “Noah, though, is the least of your worries; your new passengers watch you.”

Turning, Japheth smiled and nodded at the small group of men and women. He shifted his attention back to the man, all traces of congeniality gone. “They watch to discover if you are an honest man or if you are deceitful.”

The towman looked at the people waiting by the gufa. He sketched a small bow in their direction, smiling as he called out, “We will soon be on our way. No worries. We have to simply finish our deal here.” He looked back at Japheth. “Are you satisfied?”

Japheth smiled. “Yes.”

While Japheth watched the man direct the slaves, he quickly checked for his possessions. His knife was in its usual place, the sheath on his leg. He patted Ismi’s tooth. It was still safe and out of sight, tucked beneath his tunic. His hand traveled lower, touching the second pouch he wore around his neck that contained the jewelry and comb. Its bulk rested solidly against his chest, where it had traveled for the length of the journey. Lastly, he rubbed his forefinger over the stone ring that he still wore on his thumb.

His check was quick and discreet, a force of habit. He quickly picked up his traveling robe, slung the final bundle containing his ceremonial clothes over his shoulder, and hurried after the men.

They did not have far to go before they came to the settlement. It was not large, consisting of a few reed buildings and a communal cooking fire where weary travelers could rest.

Hungry travelers stood near the cooking pit. Some cooked their own food. Others waited on an old lady squatting near the flames. Using a set of cooking sticks, she alternated between flipping toasting rounds of bread and stirring a pot filled with lentils. Japh’s stomach growled as the smell of hot bread mixed with woodsmoke reached him.

Civilization, thought Japheth, is when others cook for you.

He watched the boatmen stack the casks just inside the door of a reed hut and then hurry over to the old lady. He understood their feelings but remained next to the bride price. It would not do to have it disappear when he and Tochen were, hopefully, close to their journey’s end. As it was, a man in a stained dragon-skin tunic watched him from across the fire, making him feel uneasy.

The workers received their food and left as Tochen returned from his task. “Good news, Japheth. I have found a caravan. With our goods, it will be full. We must rest. Tomorrow will come early enough.”

Japh looked at Tochen. “I still say we should take dragons. I saw a flight of dragons with their riders flying toward The Tears of God. I know it can be done.”

“And as I told you, you know your father’s feelings about dragons. We—”

“And yet, Ismi sleeps in his pasture.”

Tochen frowned. “You twist his actions.”

“No—”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a male voice interrupted. “But I overheard your predicament. I have the perfect solution. I have a hard-bottomed vessel that can take you northward, pulled by my dragon.” He shrugged his shoulders. “You sir,” he motioned to Tochen, “would have nothing to fear.”

Glancing up from his discussion with Tochen, Japheth looked at the man. It was the man who had been watching him. His hair was greasy and unkempt. His dragon-skin tunic, with sweat-crusted armpits and other dubious stains on the front, stretched out over his belly. Japh chided himself. Had he been pristine when he lived with the dragons?

“You ride a dragon, stranger?”

The man looked at Tochen and thrust out his chest. “Yes, the best beast this side of the river. He can lift you and all your cargo over The Tears of God.”

“We—” Tochen’s reply was abruptly cut short by Japheth.

“I will look at your beast.” Japh held out his hand. “You say it pulls a vessel for you?”

Shaking Japheth’s hand, the man’s chest puffed up more. “Baz. My name is Baz. Yes, my beast will pull a vessel. The fastest, most comfortable way to travel on the river, up or down.”

“Show me.”

At those two little words, Baz flashed a smile at Tochen. “It seems your master has other thoughts.”

“Tochen, get some food. You can eat and watch our items while I am gone.”

It did not take Tochen long to obey. He returned with a clay bowl full of bread and lentils. The scent wafted to Japheth, and his stomach growled again. After turning his back to the fire, Japh motioned to Baz to lead him to the dragon.

JAPHETH, YOU WOULD NOT USE A DRAGON THUSLY.

Japh shook his head as Ismi’s voice wove through his mind. A PLEASURE TO HEAR FROM YOU, LOVE.

IT IS BAD ENOUGH IN TOWN WHERE DRAGONS ARE USED AS BEASTS OF BURDEN, FLYING PEOPLE TO AND FRO, BUT TO BE USED AS A DRAFT OX IS DESPICABLE. IF I WERE THERE, THERE WOULD BE NONE OF THIS... THIS NONSENSE. NO NEED TO FIND A CARAVAN AND CERTAINLY NO NEED TO LOOK AT OTHER DRAGONS.

Japh chuckled at her jealousy. I AM JUST GOING TO SEE. THE IDEA IS FASCINATING.

The small trail they followed fanned out into a proper rock-lined path when they entered a large meadow. Japh caught his breath at the fetid smell, but the man leading him did not seem to notice.

Glancing around the meadow, Japh saw a ragged, four-poled tent hugging the earth at the grass-covered eastern end and two women peeking out from behind the tent’s dusty, black panels. His attention, though, was drawn to the bones and carcasses littering the torn, claw-scarred ground at the western edge of the field and to the dragon crouching there.

“He’s a beauty, he is.” Baz smiled and motioned to the two women who had started toward them, “All I have are beauties.”

Japh looked at the man for a moment, nonplussed. “I would see your dragon,” he said, after a short silence.

“Yes, and after, perhaps you would like to visit my tent?” The man smiled and wiggled his eyebrows at Japheth. “Many tired travelers have enjoyed hospitality unsurpassed, communing one last time with the Goddess before embarking on the most dangerous part of their journey.”

Japh looked in the direction of the tent again, seeing the two women more clearly as they walked across the pasture. Unlike his sisters, who wore simple, plain clothes, these two women wore loose, colorful dresses that fluttered about them. Their clothing reminded him of the temple harlots, but their exaggerated strut did not seem reverential or joyous. He shook his head.

“I would see the dragon,” he repeated.

The man shrugged and walked forward with Japheth into the dragon’s field.

“Look all you want. You will not find a finer beast anywhere. Do not get too close though, as he is not partial to strangers.”

Sensing their approach, the large red dragon — still in harness — lumbered to his feet. The red dragon could not stand straight and held its right hind leg lower than the other. In its prime, it would have been a very impressive creature, but Japh was not awed by its size, instead he was shocked at the loose flesh that hung off its emaciated frame.

An ankle bracelet circled its injured hind leg, holding a band of sharp spikes next to the dragon’s skin. A yank on its chain or even laying down wrong would press those sharp spikes into to the dragon’s flesh, effectively crippling him. As it was, Japh could see the torn and scabbed hide next to the bracelet and understood why the dragon could not carry its own weight.

Despite its injury and the torture device on its ankle, the dragon spread its wings and reared upwards. Inelegant and lacking symmetry, he towered over the men. Japh rubbed his thumb ring, his anger growing as he saw how the beast’s wings had been broken and allowed to heal at unnatural angles.

At that exact moment Ismi began her battle cry. It started as it always did, a low, guttural growl that ricocheted through Japh’s belly.

Baz moved back. “He is not, as I said, partial to strangers.”

IT WOULD HAVE BEEN BETTER OFF TO KILL HIM RATHER THAN LET HIM LIVE DEPENDENT ON MEN.

THIS IS THE SAME AS THE DRAGONS IN TOWN.

PERHAPS, BUT THAT DOES NOT MAKE IT RIGHT.

Japh continued looking up at the dragon. The tight harness straps bit into the beast’s tender flesh where his forelegs joined his body and into the flesh on his back where his wings grew. Blood dripped from the freshly opened wounds. The sight was enough to even silence Ismi for a brief second.

Japheth held out his hand. He did not know if the dragon would acknowledge him. Walking slowly, he moved toward it. It shook its huge head and dropped to the ground. Japh took a wider stance, bracing against the shuddering earth.

The dragon opened its mouth. Japh stopped, ready to drop to the ground. Where a stream of fire and heat should have rushed out to meet him, the only thing that floated over him was the stench of rotted flesh. He looked into the gaping maw and saw broken teeth and oozing wounds on the dragon’s pale gums. Japh’s empty stomach roiled at the sight. He swallowed — hard — but did not vomit.

Ismi’s battle cry changed pitch. Instead of a low growl, it grew shrill.

ISMI, YOU SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS PERSONALLY. THIS IS NOT THE DRAGON GROUNDS. YOU CANNOT PROTECT ME HERE, AND YOUR BATTLE CRY WILL LEAVE ME DRAINED.

YOU AND I ARE MELDED, JAPHETH. I HAVE TO DO WHAT I CAN TO PROTECT YOU, EVEN IF IT HARMS YOU FOR A SHORT TIME.

Japheth shook his head at her logic, wincing as her voice tore through him.

“A dragon with its fire is a dangerous beast. I would not keep such an animal.”

Japheth ignored the man’s voice as his eyes narrowed from the throbbing pain in his head as Ismi’s shrill tone went higher, setting his teeth on edge.

He kept his focus on the dragon. Why did the man think this dragon was not dangerous? When he was able to reply, he asked casually, “And how long have you had him in your care?”

The man puffed out his chest. “He was a gift from Methuselah.”

You could maim a dragon, take away its fire, even break its teeth and starve it, as had been done to this dragon. Such treatment would only enrage them. Dragons had long memories and lived long lives. Years could pass before they exacted their revenge, hunting down their tormentor and crushing them in their massive jaws or with a swipe of their powerful tail. The man was a fool if he thought he was safe.

The dragon’s head snaked forward.

Japh’s vision blurred from the intensity of Ismi’s war cry, but he had seen the move many times before. He was well within the beast’s strike range. He could run. He could stand still. Either way, he would be just as dead. Ismi’s battle cry reached its highest pitch, a pitch so high his ears could barely register it, and his body shuddered with every pulse that radiated through him.

He stood still. The dragon’s head came closer. Taking a deep breath, he remained focused on the dragon as he asked the man, “What did you do to deserve such a gift, if I may ask?”

Smiling wide, showing the gaps where teeth were missing, Baz replied, “Things of the heart.”

Japheth shook his throbbing head, still watching the dragon. “If you do not want to confide in me, I understand.” He smiled. “Things of the heart are meant to be kept close to the heart.”

The dragon’s head moved closer yet. Japheth maintained his easy stance; Baz moved backward, again.

The dragon sniffed the air. Its head stopped near Japheth. Its tongue flicked out, barely touching him. Japh’s dragon-hide tunic protected him from most of the small, sharp pricks. Japh controlled his emotions, forcing himself to remain still as the dragon huffed and blew on him again.

Japheth never took his gaze off the dragon’s face. One eye was scarred shut. Not an unusual sight, as male dragons fought and became maimed. Tracking its owner’s backward movement, the dragon’s left eye should have been sharp and bright. Instead, the transparent third eyelid, the eyelid dragons closed across their eyes for protection during flight, was drawn halfway across, and a small trail of pus trickled from it.

Starved, maimed, and nearly blind. But, it could still smell.

“How do you get close enough to ride him?”

“I have no difficulties,” Baz responded, again skirting Japheth’s questions. “But that is why we pull a vessel in the water. He can stay away from people, yet still earn his keep.”

The dragon’s eyebrow lifted slightly as it heard the man’s voice. Silent as a cat and quick as a snake it turned, lunging in the man’s direction — only to be pulled up sharp by his ankle manacle. He dug his claws into the earth and tried to pull his way forward, to no avail.

Japheth turned and looked at the ground. The dragon’s claw marks reached behind him to the path where he had stood moments ago. Baz stood just the other side of the path, a hair’s breadth away and out of reach of the dragon. Japheth did not know what to believe. Why would the man bait a dragon in such a manner unless he had a death wish?

The dragon crouched down. His tail whipped back and forth, tossing bits of dirt, bones, and carcasses into the air as he watched the men.

Japheth looked at the man and nodded. “I would still like to approach him.”

Baz frowned. He looked at Japheth, who was still standing well inside the dragon’s strike range. “Still? After that display of temper?”

Japheth’s casual shrug belied the pain he felt from Ismi’s battle cry. He narrowed his eyes against the bright sun. “Humans get mad, dragons get mad. But not all act on their anger. As soon as he is aloft and pulling us in the vessel behind him, he could turn on us. I would not put my manservant in a dangerous position. I have to know that I can trust him.”

Baz stood a moment without moving. He shook his head. “No. It is not wise.” A smile blossomed across his face. “I withdraw the services of my dragon.”

He motioned to the two women who stood behind him, “Do feel free to avail yourself of my holy women. Let your sins be forgiven before you begin your journeys, lest anything happen to you along the way.”

Japheth glanced at the two women behind Baz. As he had noted earlier, their clothing was diaphanous and sultry, similar to what the “priestesses” wore. On closer inspection, however, the fabric was stained; the hems, ragged. One bared her shoulder down to the swell of her breast, but she did not smile. Her eyes were tense and bleak, reminding him of a doe caught in a dragon’s gaze. The other never lifted her head to look at him.

The temple harlots he had seen looked at him, not through him. Even when he would ignore them or ask them to leave, they would dance away, finger cymbals chiming, looking back and smiling at him without a shred of fear.

“I thank you for your hospitality,” said Japh, nodding in the man’s direction. “But I am a follower of Yahweh and do not loiter in the earthly pleasure houses of Inanna.”

Baz raised an eyebrow as his smile grew tense. He proffered a small bow in return. “As you wish. Let me escort you to the path, and you can be on your way.”

Halfway back to the settlement, Japh’s long legs faltered. He was expecting this but was surprised at how quickly the aftereffects of Ismi’s battle cry came upon him. Every step felt like he was plodding through deep mud. The sunlight bouncing off the water felt like daggers in his eyes; every stumbling footfall drove them deeper into his brain.

He felt something warm and sticky on his face. The taste of copper filled his mouth. He touched the back of his hand to his nose. Blood. Leaning forward, he grabbed a tree for support. Hot bile burned a path up his throat, and he vomited.

In the past when Ism’s battle cry had drained him of his senses and immobilized his body, she had been there to carry him to safety. Now he was alone. He struggled to stand and make his way back to the settlement.