[FN] The Peasant Dragon
“Irshad!”
The boy’s bloodshot eyes snapped wide open. He jerked his head up, with the look of a petrified deer. Rows and rows of classmates stared back at him and ahead of them all, there stood Professor Hamza glaring at him.
“You’re sleeping in my class again.” Hamza thundered, “Come here!”
Irshad stood, wincing as his legs ached again. They were still so sore. Carefully, he made his way down, trying not to look at anyone. He stared down at Hamza’s feet.
“Look at you.” Hamza said, disgust in his voice, “Dirty clothes, bloodshot eyes and just a complete lack of enthusiasm for the divine subject of magic. Why, I ought to have you expelled. What were you even doing up so late last night?”
Irshad looked up, hesitant before opening his mouth. “You told me to-”
“Of course there’s always an excuse.” Hamza quickly roared, “This is why the academy’s reputation is going down, because of students like you. It’s a miracle you even managed to get in, Irshad, with your background.”
Someone snickered among the students. Irshad felt his ears burn. “What do you mean by that, professor?” He asked, keeping his voice carefully level. “I passed the exam like everyone else.”
Hamza snorted. “Sure, of course you did. That’s why you can’t even manage healing magic to keep your own eyes open.”
“But that- that’s because you-”
“Enough!” Hamza glared at him, silencing any further comment, “For such an obstinate attitude, you will sit in this classroom for 2 hours after everyone has left. I will check in on you and if you have even left a minute before…” He wagged his finger menacingly.
The class didn’t end for another hour and Hamza left with a final scowl in his direction. The others only giggled and whispered as they left. “Country bumpkin.” One of them laughed.
When they were all gone, he pulled out the book he had been studying. It wasn’t a course book, it was something of his own personal research. A history book, about their ancient ancestors and their usage of magic. He stared at the enormous triangle engraved on the cover.
“Trifecta.” He whispered again in awe.
But suddenly, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching the classroom. He slipped the book under his desk, not wanting Hamza to find something else to poke fun at. But it wasn’t Hamza who stepped through the door. Irshad’s breath caught.
“So” Ali said as he walked in with an arrogant smile, followed by his 2 cronies, “you can’t even pay attention in class now. I think he thinks he’s smarter than the rest of us, hm?” His 2 cronies snickered, nodding along.
“Go away, Ali.” Irshad said, frowning, “The professor might come in to check in on me at any time. If you do anything here, you would get us both in trouble.”
“He won’t touch me. I’m not a dirty peasant like you, piggy.”
Irshad stood up, trying not to wince. “My name is Irshad.”
Ali snapped his fingers, pointing at him. “Zayd, Omar, get him.”
His two cronies moved forward, bulky and stout beyond their teenage years. Irshad stepped into the aisle of the next desk, moving away from them. He eyed the door, with Ali standing a few feet in front of it. The cronies rushed for him, clambering on top of the desks.
Irshad stepped on top of the desk too, leaping across to the next, desperate to get closer to his only exit. But Zayd closed in on him with surprising speed and he felt a foot slam into his back as he was sent sprawling toward the floor. His face crashed into the marble first and he felt the metallic taste of blood on his teeth. He lifted his head to find the door a few feet ahead of him, spinning dizzily about.
“That’s a good spot for you.” Ali’s foot stomped into his back as Irshad screamed. “Now, squeal, piggy!” Zayd and Omar grabbed him by the arms, lifting him to his knees. Ali grabbed him by his long black hair, “You know the drill, piggy. I’ll ask you nicely since we’re starting. Drop out of the tournament.”
Irshad spat. “I worked hard like any of you to get here. I can do magic well, better than even you ca-” Ali’s fist punched into his left cheek, knocking the wind out of him.
“Let’s try again.” Ali raised a finger and it pulsed with white light. He touched it to Irshad’s face and he felt the pain and growing numbness fade away. “Frankly, it is embarrassing for a noble like me to be in competition with you. So get out and know your place already.”
Irshad glared up at him, at Zayd and Omar too. “Go to hell.”
Ali punched again but this time, Irshad was ready, he ducked his head, sending the punch straight toward Omar’s groin. Omar cried out as he let go, dropping to the floor in a whimper. Irshad acted quickly, using his free hand to send a straight chop straight up to Zayd’s jewels as well. Zayd howled as Irshad staggered back onto his feet. He grinned as he turned and ran right out the door.
And crashed right into Hamza’s tall figure. Hamza glared down at him. “Professor,” He began, “These boys are attacking me!” He pointed toward Ali and his cronies, who were staring at him wide-eyed.
Hamza glanced at the other 3 before gritting his teeth, “I told you to stay inside the damn classroom.” He shoved Irshad right back into the room and pulled the door shut.
It took a few moments before anyone recovered. It was Ali who spoke first, “Told you, piggy. Get him!”
When he returned to his dorm, it was dark. He looked in the mirror. Of course, there weren’t any marks. They were too smart for that but he remembered the pain. He winced as he touched his cheek, his under eye, his ear… He punched the wall beside the mirror, taking heavy breaths. “I won’t leave.”
He pulled out the book again and opened it. It was the history of the lost art of magic. Only legends, most claimed but Irshad believed differently. He felt it was calling to him, that something was in ther-
Knock! Knock!
Irshad jumped before tutting his tongue. He ignored it but the knocking only came again, louder. “Open the door, Irshad!” Came the sharp voice of Hamza. “I know you’re in there.”
With his fists clenched, he opened the door, glaring up at the man.
“Why aren’t you in the kitchen?” Hamza demanded, “You were supposed to start an hour ago.”
“You told me to stay back in class for 2 hours. I just got back now.”
“I don’t care.” Hamza said, his eyes narrowing, “That’s your own fault. Because of that, no dinner for you tonight.”
“What?!” Irshad shouted, feeling his blood boil, “You’re the reason I can’t sleep. You make me wash everyone’s dishes but no one else is forced to do it!”
“That’s your own fault as well. Your disorderly conduct merits that. Now, leave or would you like to be disqualified from the upcoming tournament as well?”
Irshad gritted his teeth, swallowing his rage. He couldn’t afford to be disqualified. That would make Hamza win. Without a word, he stormed off toward the kitchen. Rizwan was baking bread again, wiping the sweat from his brow as he hefted another loaf out of the oven. “Ah, I was wondering if you were dead.” He exclaimed.
Irshad only grunted as he picked up a loaf and started cutting slices.
“Hamza made you stay back again?” Rizwan asked after a while.
“I hate him.”
“They definitely don’t like us either.” He sighed, “Study well, Irshad or you’ll end up having to work for him like me.”
“He told me I can’t have dinner either.”
Rizwan chuckled. “Well, there’s no magic to tell if someone has food in their stomach.” He produced a loaf of bread and some chickpeas in a bowl. “Here, eat for a while.”
Irshad thanked him, devouring the hot bread hungrily. “Ali and the others were trying to get me to quit again.” He said between mouthfuls of food.
Rizwan beat the dough with his hands. “And?” He huffed, “Did you?”
“As if!” He swallowed, “I want to participate, Rizwan.”
“But….” Rizwan glanced at him, “Your magic is not that good. You know that.”
“That’s because-” Irshad looked around, lowering his voice, “I’m working on something.”
“Like?”
He smiled. “Can’t tell you. It’s a secret.”
Rizwan stopped beating the dough, a twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, you can’t do that. You know I love secrets!”
Irshad grinned. “Actually, I’m not very sure what it is but I know I’m getting to it. And when I find it, the people in that tournament will be shocked. Trust me.”
Rizwan laughed. “I used to say the same things. Now look at me.” He went back to beating the dough.
It was late midnight by the time Irshad was done washing the dishes. He returned to his room, yawning. He had dodged Ali and others in the dining hall. That was one good thing about being in the kitchen.
He shut the door behind him and locked it. Then he scowled. It was so dark. He lit the candle on his desk as he sat in the darkness, his eyes begging him to sleep. But he remembered. The pain. The mocking. The humiliation. His fists tightened. “My magic is good enough.” He whispered.
He lifted a finger and imagined his happiest memory. Of his mama and papa sending him to the academy. The pride on their faces when they received the acceptance letter. His lover, Fadwa’s tears of joy and sadness as she heard he was accepted. A white brightness began to glow from his finger. Healing magic.
Then suddenly, Ali’s face popped into his head. How they had tricked him on the first day, posing as friends only to bully him later. Hamza’s spiteful words in front of the classroom. The giggles and mocking of his noble classmates. The white light suddenly turned red and he felt his finger burn. He yelped as he let go of the magic and sucked on his finger.
Happiness was the focus needed to transmit magic, anything opposite to it can ruin the transmission and destroy the user themselves. There were many cases of mages who had burned themselves up in a fiery rage of using magic. He shook his head. He needed to learn to be calm. Once he achieved that control, his magic would be flawless again and he would beat everyone in the tournament.
He brought the book into the light of the candle and opened it. The ancients had many ways of controlling their emotions. There were even legends that they could channel when angry. He read the texts, trying to decipher how they achieved such control over themselves. He needed it in order to win!
The days before the tournament quickly passed. Irshad spent nights staying awake, trying to understand the trifecta book, dripping burning candle wax on his hand to force himself to stay awake.
Everyone in class was also buzzing with excitement over the tournament, thankfully not paying as much mind to him. Hamza was explaining the rules. “Remember, students! Your opponent and you will each be given a heavily injured war-hog. It does not matter how well you heal, all that matters is who heals it the fastest. That person will be the winner of the duel. In the battlefield, mages have to run from one injured soldier to the next. Speed is most important for a mage…”
Irshad was not listening. He was busy flipping through the book. There was only one more day left for the tournament and he was no closer to understanding how to control his emotions any better. He clenched and unclenched a fist, desperately trying to find some answer. Any answer. But all the pages did not give anything other than useless information. One of the most confusing paragraphs read:
Magic is divine, and so are the emotions used to power it. Do not try to control them. They react as ordained. Who are we to change to change divine will?
He read the confusing paragraph again. What in the world did that mean? He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, sighing angrily.
“Irshad.”
He looked up to find Hamza standing right beside his desk. A cold sweat broke out over him. “I- professo-”
“You don’t seem to be paying attention to my class. Maybe you have something more interesting to learn?”
“No, I was just-”
Hamza reached out his hand and picked up the book. He closed it and his eyes widened. “Trifecta.” He said out loud, “The myths and legends of ancient magic.” Some of the others in the class frowned, glancing at one another. “Is this what you are wasting your time reading instead of studying or paying attention to my class? How disappointing.” He narrowed his eyes, “This is not the village, Irshad, where people would be interested in rumors and myths instead of real magic!”
“Maybe that’s all he can do, professor.” Ali called from front of the class, eliciting hushed laughter and sniggering.
Irshad stood up, banging his fists on the table. “I can do magic! Better than all of you!” He screamed, his blood boiling, “That’s why none of you like me! Because none of you can accept a peasant like me who can do better magic than all you so-called nobles!”
Silence. Everyone turned to stare daggers at him but Irshad stared back.
“Such insolence!” Hamza exclaimed, “You are insulting the nobility of this city?! You’re disqualified from the tournament, Irshad! Get out!”
“But, professor-”
“Out!”
Irshad did not attend any more classes. He simply went to his room where he stayed. He did not even go out to eat. Rizwan came to visit him at night. “Irshad? You in there?”
“Go away.”
There was a click and then his door opened. “You realize I have the master key, right?” He chuckled. But Irshad only lay on his bed, facing away from him. “What happened?”
“I got disqualified from the tournament.” He said softly.
“What?! Why?”
“I insulted everyone in class. All the nobles were laughing at me. Calling me a….country bumpkin.” His voice strained at the final words.
Rizwan was silent for a few seconds. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
Silence.
“What about the secret you were planning to show off at the tournament? The one that would shock the world?”
Irshad sighed, before sitting up. “I don’t know, Rizwan. I don’t know anything. I thought I knew what I was doing but…maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here.”
“I think you need to eat some dinner. I brought you bread and some chicken.” He brought it close for Irshad to take. “You’ll feel better after some food enters your stomach.”
Irshad slowly tore the bread and chewed on it mechanically. “Do you want to know what the secret was?”
Rizwan nodded.
Irshad smiled, shaking his head. “It was a dream I kept having. I kept seeing a triangle…the trifecta, I guess. Every night, I saw it till I was convinced there was something it was telling me.” He sighed, “Maybe I am just a country bumpkin.”
They didn’t speak for a few minutes after that, as Irshad ate. Then it was Rizwan who spoke, “My mama used to tell me that God speaks to us through dreams. She told me that if I really had a dream that kept coming, I should listen to it for it is God speaking to me.” He stared at Irshad who was watching him. “I did have a dream, Irshad. Every night, I saw a dragon. It was massive and beautiful. Something told me I was supposed to find it, to go searching for it…” he looked down, “But I never did. Instead, I bake bread for the Academy students.”
“A dragon?”
“Yes.”
“But they’re only told about in legends. No one even knows if they ever existed.”
Rizwan shrugged before getting to his feet. “The point is, there is nothing that feels worse than not having listened to something you believe was a divine calling. You can take that from me.” He took the empty plate from Irshad. “Get some sleep. I’ll wash the dishes alone. Forget about the tournament. I see them come and go every year. There are things bigger than that.”
But Irshad could not forget about it. He went for the tournament the next day. He sat among the throes of crowds packed in the spectator stands, watching the enormous area cleared in the center for the duel. People shouted and screamed as contestants came into the arena and used magic.
“And the winner of this bout is Zayd!” The announcer hollered, “Another round of applause at that lightning speed of 8.3 seconds!”
Irshad did not clap like everyone else. He glanced toward the raised podium stands where the King and Queen sat, watching and clapping their hands. There was a certain elegance to even the way they moved their hands. He tutted his tongue, annoyed. Rizwan was right, he shouldn’t have said that in class. He could have maybe impressed the King himself.
And then came the next duel. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your next contestants: Ali, son of the noble Khalid and Irshad, son of…peasant Abdullah!”
The crowd laughed as Irshad sat, feeling his ears burn.
“It turns out Irshad has dropped out by manner of disqualification! Ali is the winner by default!” Cheers and hollers erupted from the onlookers.
Irshad scowled, staring at the proud look on Ali’s face before he glanced toward the King. But His Majesty was not watching the arena, he was staring up, toward the sky. He was frowning as one of the chief soldiers stepped forward, peering up at the sky.
KURRRGGGGHHHHH!
Suddenly, everyone in the crowd was covering their ears. People shouted, unheard under the roar. Irshad winced, dropping to his knees at the noise. He looked around, confused. What was that? Everyone was starting to look to the skies.
And there, in the blue expanse of clouds, there moved a large black shape, swirling around the arena. It circled closer and closer, growing larger and impossibly larger. Someone pointed at it. “Dragon!” The crowd erupted into chaos, screeching and howling as the entire arena broke out into panic. People shoved and shouted as they scrambled over one another. Children cried loudly, searching about for their parents in the pandemonium.
But Irshad stood, staring with his jaw hanging at the creature. It swooped down, settling on the arena floor, making the entire structure tremble. It opened its mouth as it flapped its wings defiantly.
KURRRGGGGGHHHHHH! It roared again.
The Royal Guards moved the King and royalty away as they took formation in front, holding their shields and spears up. “Archers!” The captain thundered, “Fire!”
A volley of arrows rose from the back as they rained down on the dragon, making it shake its head about in irritation. When it was done, it turned its eyes toward the Guards and opened its mouth.
KURRRGGGGHHHH! Fire spewed out from its mouth as it crashed into the line of guards, charring them to a crisp immediately. One moment, the guards were there and the next, there were only ashes floating about.
“A d-dragon.” Irshad said slowly in disbelief. Suddenly, he remembered Rizwan’s words. “He was right.”
The King and Queen were covered by more Guards rushing in as the King drew his sword, staring fearfully at the enormous beast.
“Help!” Someone screamed from the arena.
Irshad’s eyes followed down to find Ali running away from the dragon. “Papa!” He screamed, “Help me! Someone!”
But the dragon heard his cries as well. It turned its head toward the little ant that was causing the ruckus. It waved one of its wings, beating up dust with wind so strong that Ali fell on his face, turning around frantically on his back and screaming.
For a moment, Irshad smiled. Then he blinked, his smile disappearing. He frowned at Ali again as his fists clenched, before he was running down toward him. “Ali!” He screamed.
Ali turned back to look at him. “Save me!”
Forget saving, there wouldn’t even be anything left to heal of him if the fire hit him. “Stop shouting, you idiot!” He shouted.
He leaped over the barricades, stepping on the arena soil. The dragon turned its beady eyes toward him now, interested in the newcomer. A new volley of arrows shot at the beast, only for it to bat its wings about as it roared in annoyance. It opened its mouth and unleashed fire around at the arena as Irshad fell flat on the soil.
To be honest, he had absolutely no plan. He was simply spurred to do something. To buy time. He could feel the heat of the fire blowing far above him. The dragon shut its mouth as it blew its nose, flames leaking out. Then it eyed Ali and him again, as though remembering about them.
“Do something!” Ali screamed at him, “Are you just trying to play hero, piggy?”
Irshad grit his teeth, regretting his earlier decision. “I guess you’re nothing without your cronies.” But he was right.
Suddenly, he remembered the trifecta. Who are we to change to change divine will?
The dragon drew in another breath, getting ready. Irshad looked around at the fearful faces of the King and nobility. He took a deep breath himself, remembering how they all laughed at him. How they all mocked his name. He raised both his hands, pointing both his index fingers at the dragon. “Here goes nothing.” He whispered.
“My name is Irshad.” He shouted at it, for everyone to hear. He willed the healing magic to come, white light glowing from his pointing fingertips as the magic flowed. He remembered their laughter, their looks, their disgust. The light turned red as his fingers burned. But Irshad did not let go of the magic, his lips peeling back at the pain. He gritted his teeth.
The dragon tucked its chin before opening its jaw. Irshad glared at it before bringing both his hands closer together, the red light blindingly bright at the index fingers’ tips. He touched the two fingers and his thumbs together, completing the triangle.
KURRRGGHHH! The dragon roared as orange flames spewed forth from its mouth, rushing toward him like a wave.
“Son of Abdullah!” Irshad screamed with what was left of his strength as the magic rushed through his thumbs, through his fingers, coursing around the triangle circuit formed by his hands, faster and faster. It exploded out as crimson flames straight where it was pointed, toward the dragon.
The flames met in the middle, pushing against one another as they shoved mercilessly. The entire arena was lit in a dazzle of furious orange and red as everyone covered their eyes but still stared through to watch the battle. Irshad screamed as the dragon roared, both angry. Both unwilling to bow their heads. The air grew hot, boiling to the point that the sand itself began to glisten. And then, after a few moments that felt like an eternity, both the flames abruptly stopped.
Irshad heaved deep breaths, panting as he grabbed his knees, his hands burnt to the point the skin was blackened. He looked up at the dragon defiantly, not looking away. The dragon shook its head, snorting its nostrils as it watched him. Then, it flapped its massive wings and rose heavily out of the arena, leaving behind crystals of glass skittering about. Its roar faded into the distance.
For a few moments, no one dared speak before the King himself shouted, “Our noble hero, Irshad!” The crowd and guards erupted in screams and tears, hollering and hugging. Irshad looked at Ali before smiling haughtily, “I’m better than you nobles.”