It
had been twenty-two years since the last “choosing”. Of course I
wasn't there remember it, but I'd heard the hushed stories. My
father's younger brother found an egg at the edge of our village one
morning as he went out hunting.. He could have left it where he found
it for someone else to stumble across. He could have brought it to
the Council so lots could be drawn, as tradition mandated. But he
took it as his own.
No
one will say it to my father's face, but I know a few think my uncle
took the coward's way out. He didn't say his goodbyes. He didn't tell
anyone what had happened. He penned a letter leaving everything he
owned to my father, and he went out into the forest to die.
But
no one can truly argue that he wasn't brave in another way. He took
responsibility for what he had found... If he hadn't simply left, my
father would have made them draw lots... Or my father would have
taken the egg himself, despite the fact he had pregnant wife. My
uncle knew this. Once I took the letter from my father's drawer. The
last lines were. “ I have to do this. You have too much to live
for, Korren. I love you.”
They
found his body two days later. Killed by the dragon cub that had
hatched.
He's
buried under an old Balli tree by the river, with others who have
died by dragons. It had been over thirty years since the last egg was
left for us to find, but before then, there were deaths almost every
year. Their graves remind us of their sacrifice. They remind us to
keep watch.
People
like to try and forget about the dragons. Dragons tend to stay higher
up in the mountains, far enough away that they aren't part of
every-day life. Occasionally a younger one will come steal a few
sheep, but they tend to feed on the mountain goats in their
territory.
Though
they're formidable predators, they don't hunt us. They are about the
size of a cow in height, though much more light-built. A war-party
with spears and arrows could probably take one down if given the
element of surprise. That is – if it weren't for their songs. They
can sing humans into a stupor, and demand that we come closer... If
they didn't sing, maybe we could fight them...
We
don't fear the dragons as much as we fear finding their eggs. When an
egg is found outside the village we have two choices – either kill
the cub when it hatches, or allow the cub to kill one of us before
its mother comes and reclaims it. The first isn't really much of a
choice. If you kill the cub, a swarm of dragons will come and burn
the whole village...
And what if we leave the egg? What if we move it far outside our village and remove the threat that way? Then the dragons will come and choose someone for us. Mother - Child - Sole provider for a family - It won't matter to the dragons. Someone will be taken to die.
So an adult is chosen by lot, or someone
volunteers. The last person to die before my uncle was an elder who
volunteered in place of her son. My Uncle Jesh and too many others–
they sacrificed their lives so we could live in peace. It has been
this way for generations.
And
then Jesh died, and my father tried to make a change.
He
swore that no one else from his village would die by the claws of a
dragon. He and the Elder Council agreed – if ever another dragon
egg was left in the village, we would flee deep into the mountains
and wait them out.
Finally, that time had come.