Nine Dragons. George Herman

      

      Nine Dragons

      First published in 2003 by Tuttle Publishing, an imprint of Periplus Editions (HK) Ltd., with editorial offices at 364 Innovation Drive, North Clarendon, VT 05759 U.S.A.

      Text Copyright © 2003 George Herman

      Illustration Copyright © 2003 Kristen Seaton

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission from Tuttle Publishing.

      Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

      Herman, George, 1928–

      Nine Dragons / text by George Herman ; illustrations by Kristen Seaton.

      — 1st ed. p. cm.

      Summary: When a drought forces the members of two tribes for the first time to cross the mountains that separate them, the dragons that inhabit the mountains show the humans how to live in peace.

      ISBN 978-1-4629-0125-8

      [1. Dragons — Fiction.] I. Seaton, Kristen, ill. II. Title.

      PZ7.H431515 Ni 2003

      [Fic] — dc21 2002075063

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      First edition

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      Text Design by Gopa & Ted2

      Printed in Singapore

      The wind is a teller of tales.

      Late at night,

      when the darkness settles upon your world

      like a warm and comforting blanket,

      the wind may come to tell you a story —

      perhaps, like this one,

      a tale of angry and desperate men,

      of gentle and generous others,

      of ferocious, fire-breathing dragons,

      and of a war — like all wars —

      that did not have to be.

      Long, long ago,

      there were two villages

      on a single island

      in the middle

      of the Wide Water.

      The village of Wongsu was built on rich and fertile earth

      by people from the Ancient Land to the east.

      Flat and wet, it was good for growing rice, and it was encircled

      by a wall of mountains where wild game ran.

      No one could remember who first saw this valley and settled here

      or what was beyond the high mountains,

      but generations of Wongsu had been farmers and hunters in this blessed valley,

      and they fed their children with the gifts of the earth and the deep woods.

      The village of Makai, on the opposite side of the mountains,

      was founded by people who came many years after the Wongsu.

      They arrived from the west, from beyond the Wide Water, in great canoes of wood and fiber.

      Their skins were sun-bronzed and, for the most part, they were a carefree people.

      They fed their children with the gifts of the deep sea:

      the fish mantled in many colors,

      the clicking, clawing crab, the snapping lobster,

      and the sweet grasses of the deep.

      They also harvested the fruit of trees and vines:

      the tasty fig, the hard-shelled coconut, the bright banana, the prickly pineapple, and the pear.

      Separating the two villages were the massive mountains.

      The people of Makai and the people of Wongsu

      never climbed these rocky, shadowy towers

      because they were too busy with their work —

      and because — well — they were afraid.

      There were times when the mountains seemed to spit flames

      as they spiraled glowing ashes against the dark sky.

      Because of this, but unknown to each other,

      the Wongsu and the Makai shared a common legend:

      that the mountains were the home of terrible and terrifying dragons

      who came to the island before them, flying high above the storm that brought with it the great flood,

      and who were now the last of their kind.

      And like all legends,

       there was some truth in this.

      Deep in the dark and mysterious mountains there were, indeed, nine dragons —

      nine creatures of wings and claws and scales.

      When annoyed — which was often —

      they would show their white teeth — as sharp as angry words —

      and they would breathe fire into the night sky.

      Their scent was as foul as swamp air, their wings were like leather,

      and their scales glistened and gleamed like robes made of a thousand jewels.