The Man Who Killed the Last Dragon
Title: The Man Who Killed the Last Dragon
Rating: G
Characters: Zhao
Word Count: ~1,700, complete
Summary: Lt. Zhao discovers an unexpected opportunity for glory.
Notes: Written for avatar_contest #61, where the prompt was 'game.'
The Man Who Killed the Last Dragon
Zhao had to admit, as he studied yet another set of strange wall carvings, that he was disappointed. He spent so much time and effort reaching the ancient city of the Sun Warriors, only to discover there wasn't anything useful here. He lowered his hand with the flame burning in it and walked slowly back to the temple entrance, feeling he was wasting his time. He'd had such success at the library--discovering how to rid the world of water benders forever--he was inspired to come to a place he felt sure would hold some great secret of fire bending. He dreamed of finding a way to unlock the full power of the sun, power he could sense dimly, but could not grasp and wield. Surely the Sun Warriors would have had such knowledge, kept well hidden from their enemies. Zhao believed he found what he sought when he entered the chamber at the top of the temple. The doors would only open for the light of the summer solstice, but a well placed mirror solved that problem. However, inside were only statues of fire benders doing a ridiculous dance. The rest of the temple was like that, full of carvings and pictures of random things: the sun, dragons, people playing music and dancing, people smoking from large, elaborate pipes and baking bread and cakes. Apparently the forebears of the Fire Nation had a great love of parties, tobacco and baked goods. He emerged into the sunlight, thinking that if this was what the Sun Warrior civilization was like, no wonder it died out.
He surveyed the city from the temple steps, wondering if the Sun Warriors kept their secrets somewhere less obvious. He didn't have much time left to search. The fishermen who left him on the shore would return soon to collect him and the rest of their payment. It had been difficult to find anyone willing to bring him to the island, even for a considerable sum of money. The residents of the Outer Islands believed that the place was cursed, although they couldn't make up their minds why. Some said it was because the Sun Warriors had wanted to keep the secret of fire bending from being learned by outsiders, others said it was because the spirits of the Sun Warriors were angered by the slaughter of the dragons. Zhao was amused by the way people in the fishing villages spoke of the island, in hushed, frightened tones. The people in the Outer Islands were uneducated, superstitious and backward. Some of them even still worshipped the Avatar, although they kept quiet about it.
He walked down to the ground, and proceeded to the eastern edge of the city, figuring it was more likely for the secret things of fire benders to be hidden in the direction of sunrise. He gazed at the ruined buildings he passed, made of polished yellow stone that gleamed like gold in the light. Not much was known about the Sun Warriors. The people died out thousands of years ago, and no one knew why exactly, although scholars theorized there was a famine. Archaeologists attempted to explore the city many times, but every team that went seemed to be plagued by problems from the moment they arrived: hearing voices and seeing spirits, having their camps attacked by hyena lizards, being caught in cave-ins and booby traps. Several archaeologists died, and the place acquired an even worse reputation among people in that field than in the Outer Islands. It had been years since any of them came here. Despite the city's reputation, Zhao had an uneventful stay. He saw booby traps, but was able to either evade or disable them. He heard the weird cries of the hyena lizards at night, but none of them approached his camp. He neither saw nor heard anything like a spirit. He would gladly endure any of those hardships and more if he could only find what he wanted.
He came to the wall at the city's edge, and saw an open gate with a path leading into the forest on the other side. He followed the path, studying the ground and trees around him for signs of secret tunnels or hidden buildings. He came to a clearing in the trees, and abruptly stopped. Zhao stared for a long moment, wondering if he was finally seeing things like the visiting archaeologists had. It was not what he came for, the tomb of ancient knowledge lost to time, but was as awe inspiring--and utterly unexpected. If he was right, it was also something new. He knelt down and touched it, and knew it was real: a massive shell of dead skin, still pliable. An enormous reptile recently molted, something bigger than any lizard or snake that existed in the world. There was only one creature who could shed a skin this size: a dragon.
He stood up, thinking. The dragons were all dead, or were supposed to be. Gen. Iroh testified that he killed the last one himself decades ago, and Zhao always resented him for it. There was no greater game on earth, not wild rhinos, or platypus bears, or even saber-tooth moose-lions. Those were all large, powerful animals, difficult to kill, but the dragon was in a league all its own, combining size and razor sharp teeth and claws with the ability to fly, intelligence, and, most importantly, fire bending. Scores of Fire Nation nobles died attempting to earn the distinction of killing a dragon. He smiled. It might take his entire life to achieve his most cherished goal--slaying the moon--but killing a dragon was something he could do now. All he had to do was find the creature. He relished the thought of slaughtering one of these great beasts, and even more the knowledge that he would usurp a rival's title in doing so. He, Zhao, a lowly lieutenant, would be the man who killed the last dragon.
He climbed the hill above the trees to see if he could find any sign of where the dragon nested. At the top, he stopped again in shock, almost crying out this time. There was the dragon itself, lying on the downward slope, perhaps two hundred feet away. He quickly dropped to the ground, keeping his eyes on it. After a few tense moments, he realized it was asleep, dozing in the sun, eyes closed, tail curled around its body. He stared at the blue monster in disbelief, then almost laughed--he was truly blessed by the Sun Spirit. He did not need ancient knowledge to become more powerful. He only needed the chance to exercise his own power.
The nagging thought that this trip was a waste of time vanished. He retrieved his telescope to get a better look at his quarry. If he did this right, he would have all the glory of the kill with a fraction of the danger. No one would ever know he ambushed a sleeping dragon--and really, that task was difficult enough. He was calculating the best path to take to the beast, and the best place to strike for a quick kill, when he felt a warm, moist wind bear down on him. Zhao froze--there had been no wind all day. The wind came again, and he slowly turned around. Here was another amazing, incomprehensible, and very frightening thing: a second dragon, red as fire, standing over him. His telescope and his mouth both dropped. The yellow eyes stared at him, unblinking. He could not move, and the dragon did not move. The awareness that this was his last moment flickered in the depths of his mind, underneath his primal fear, and the thought emerged: I can't die now--I am destined to kill the moon spirit.
The dragon's yellow eyes blinked, and the horned head tilted to the side. The jaws opened, and Zhao clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the monster as it ate him. But that was not what happened. Instead of fangs biting into his flesh, he felt short blasts of hot breath, and heard a strange sound he could only describe as a rumbling hiss. He opened his eyes, and looked again into the dragon's. He suddenly realized that the beast was laughing.
Zhao was indignant--a dragon was just an animal, and animals did not laugh, he didn't care how mythic they were supposed to be. Then he realized that as long as the creature laughed it wasn't trying to eat him, and he should leave while he could. He bolted down the hill and through the trees, and kept running until he was back at his camp on the southern edge of the city. Straining his ears for the sound of beating wings, and glancing up and around him every few minutes, he gathered his supplies as quickly as he could and returned to the shore. He ducked into a cave by the beach, and didn't come out until the fishing boat sailed into view two days later. Being caught by the dragon was frightening, but the way the beast acted was unnerving. He could now understand why people thought this island was cursed.
He noticed the fishermen smiling at each other when they saw his face, and with some difficulty he resumed the proper authoritative manner of a military officer. Zhao didn't tell them what he saw. They were peasant fishermen, and had no business knowing the affairs of their betters. He didn't understand what happened, and dismissed contemplating it as a waste of time. It was merely a chance that had not worked out, and would have no lingering effect on his career or his life. Perhaps it was best for him that the dragons escaped. The beasts were probably being kept alive in hiding at the Fire Lord's bidding, and there would be dire consequences for harming them. Of course he was loyal to the Fire Lord, and would not reveal a state secret. Zhao watched the horizon from the deck of the fishing boat, thinking of all his plans for the future. He was destined for far greater, more memorable things than slaying dragons.
He suddenly wondered if Gen. Iroh even killed a dragon at all.
--end
Rating: G
Characters: Zhao
Word Count: ~1,700, complete
Summary: Lt. Zhao discovers an unexpected opportunity for glory.
Notes: Written for avatar_contest #61, where the prompt was 'game.'
The Man Who Killed the Last Dragon
Zhao had to admit, as he studied yet another set of strange wall carvings, that he was disappointed. He spent so much time and effort reaching the ancient city of the Sun Warriors, only to discover there wasn't anything useful here. He lowered his hand with the flame burning in it and walked slowly back to the temple entrance, feeling he was wasting his time. He'd had such success at the library--discovering how to rid the world of water benders forever--he was inspired to come to a place he felt sure would hold some great secret of fire bending. He dreamed of finding a way to unlock the full power of the sun, power he could sense dimly, but could not grasp and wield. Surely the Sun Warriors would have had such knowledge, kept well hidden from their enemies. Zhao believed he found what he sought when he entered the chamber at the top of the temple. The doors would only open for the light of the summer solstice, but a well placed mirror solved that problem. However, inside were only statues of fire benders doing a ridiculous dance. The rest of the temple was like that, full of carvings and pictures of random things: the sun, dragons, people playing music and dancing, people smoking from large, elaborate pipes and baking bread and cakes. Apparently the forebears of the Fire Nation had a great love of parties, tobacco and baked goods. He emerged into the sunlight, thinking that if this was what the Sun Warrior civilization was like, no wonder it died out.
He surveyed the city from the temple steps, wondering if the Sun Warriors kept their secrets somewhere less obvious. He didn't have much time left to search. The fishermen who left him on the shore would return soon to collect him and the rest of their payment. It had been difficult to find anyone willing to bring him to the island, even for a considerable sum of money. The residents of the Outer Islands believed that the place was cursed, although they couldn't make up their minds why. Some said it was because the Sun Warriors had wanted to keep the secret of fire bending from being learned by outsiders, others said it was because the spirits of the Sun Warriors were angered by the slaughter of the dragons. Zhao was amused by the way people in the fishing villages spoke of the island, in hushed, frightened tones. The people in the Outer Islands were uneducated, superstitious and backward. Some of them even still worshipped the Avatar, although they kept quiet about it.
He walked down to the ground, and proceeded to the eastern edge of the city, figuring it was more likely for the secret things of fire benders to be hidden in the direction of sunrise. He gazed at the ruined buildings he passed, made of polished yellow stone that gleamed like gold in the light. Not much was known about the Sun Warriors. The people died out thousands of years ago, and no one knew why exactly, although scholars theorized there was a famine. Archaeologists attempted to explore the city many times, but every team that went seemed to be plagued by problems from the moment they arrived: hearing voices and seeing spirits, having their camps attacked by hyena lizards, being caught in cave-ins and booby traps. Several archaeologists died, and the place acquired an even worse reputation among people in that field than in the Outer Islands. It had been years since any of them came here. Despite the city's reputation, Zhao had an uneventful stay. He saw booby traps, but was able to either evade or disable them. He heard the weird cries of the hyena lizards at night, but none of them approached his camp. He neither saw nor heard anything like a spirit. He would gladly endure any of those hardships and more if he could only find what he wanted.
He came to the wall at the city's edge, and saw an open gate with a path leading into the forest on the other side. He followed the path, studying the ground and trees around him for signs of secret tunnels or hidden buildings. He came to a clearing in the trees, and abruptly stopped. Zhao stared for a long moment, wondering if he was finally seeing things like the visiting archaeologists had. It was not what he came for, the tomb of ancient knowledge lost to time, but was as awe inspiring--and utterly unexpected. If he was right, it was also something new. He knelt down and touched it, and knew it was real: a massive shell of dead skin, still pliable. An enormous reptile recently molted, something bigger than any lizard or snake that existed in the world. There was only one creature who could shed a skin this size: a dragon.
He stood up, thinking. The dragons were all dead, or were supposed to be. Gen. Iroh testified that he killed the last one himself decades ago, and Zhao always resented him for it. There was no greater game on earth, not wild rhinos, or platypus bears, or even saber-tooth moose-lions. Those were all large, powerful animals, difficult to kill, but the dragon was in a league all its own, combining size and razor sharp teeth and claws with the ability to fly, intelligence, and, most importantly, fire bending. Scores of Fire Nation nobles died attempting to earn the distinction of killing a dragon. He smiled. It might take his entire life to achieve his most cherished goal--slaying the moon--but killing a dragon was something he could do now. All he had to do was find the creature. He relished the thought of slaughtering one of these great beasts, and even more the knowledge that he would usurp a rival's title in doing so. He, Zhao, a lowly lieutenant, would be the man who killed the last dragon.
He climbed the hill above the trees to see if he could find any sign of where the dragon nested. At the top, he stopped again in shock, almost crying out this time. There was the dragon itself, lying on the downward slope, perhaps two hundred feet away. He quickly dropped to the ground, keeping his eyes on it. After a few tense moments, he realized it was asleep, dozing in the sun, eyes closed, tail curled around its body. He stared at the blue monster in disbelief, then almost laughed--he was truly blessed by the Sun Spirit. He did not need ancient knowledge to become more powerful. He only needed the chance to exercise his own power.
The nagging thought that this trip was a waste of time vanished. He retrieved his telescope to get a better look at his quarry. If he did this right, he would have all the glory of the kill with a fraction of the danger. No one would ever know he ambushed a sleeping dragon--and really, that task was difficult enough. He was calculating the best path to take to the beast, and the best place to strike for a quick kill, when he felt a warm, moist wind bear down on him. Zhao froze--there had been no wind all day. The wind came again, and he slowly turned around. Here was another amazing, incomprehensible, and very frightening thing: a second dragon, red as fire, standing over him. His telescope and his mouth both dropped. The yellow eyes stared at him, unblinking. He could not move, and the dragon did not move. The awareness that this was his last moment flickered in the depths of his mind, underneath his primal fear, and the thought emerged: I can't die now--I am destined to kill the moon spirit.
The dragon's yellow eyes blinked, and the horned head tilted to the side. The jaws opened, and Zhao clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to look at the monster as it ate him. But that was not what happened. Instead of fangs biting into his flesh, he felt short blasts of hot breath, and heard a strange sound he could only describe as a rumbling hiss. He opened his eyes, and looked again into the dragon's. He suddenly realized that the beast was laughing.
Zhao was indignant--a dragon was just an animal, and animals did not laugh, he didn't care how mythic they were supposed to be. Then he realized that as long as the creature laughed it wasn't trying to eat him, and he should leave while he could. He bolted down the hill and through the trees, and kept running until he was back at his camp on the southern edge of the city. Straining his ears for the sound of beating wings, and glancing up and around him every few minutes, he gathered his supplies as quickly as he could and returned to the shore. He ducked into a cave by the beach, and didn't come out until the fishing boat sailed into view two days later. Being caught by the dragon was frightening, but the way the beast acted was unnerving. He could now understand why people thought this island was cursed.
He noticed the fishermen smiling at each other when they saw his face, and with some difficulty he resumed the proper authoritative manner of a military officer. Zhao didn't tell them what he saw. They were peasant fishermen, and had no business knowing the affairs of their betters. He didn't understand what happened, and dismissed contemplating it as a waste of time. It was merely a chance that had not worked out, and would have no lingering effect on his career or his life. Perhaps it was best for him that the dragons escaped. The beasts were probably being kept alive in hiding at the Fire Lord's bidding, and there would be dire consequences for harming them. Of course he was loyal to the Fire Lord, and would not reveal a state secret. Zhao watched the horizon from the deck of the fishing boat, thinking of all his plans for the future. He was destined for far greater, more memorable things than slaying dragons.
He suddenly wondered if Gen. Iroh even killed a dragon at all.
--end