The Dragon Does Not Concern Itself...

The two villagers climbed for days. Raj and his father, Vikram, crossed ravines, swam rivers, and scaled cliffs during their trek. They foraged for sustenance and drank glacier water, noting the scarcity of food sources contrasted against the abundant rivulets of melting ice.

Each night they huddled together for warmth, wrapped in animal skins, sleeping - if blessed with twigs and sticks by nature on that particular day - close to a small crackling fire. They continued their journey at the break of dawn each day to their ultimate destination: the cave of the Shaman, Saiman.

The ancient Shaman lived atop the highest peak, far above the ever-rising permanent snow line, way beyond the baseline oxygen requirement for ordinary humans. However; Raj and Vikram were tough. Hardened warriors, they had been trained in the village from birth for this very trial.

Training for the trek was brutal. The regime required mental and physical discipline far beyond that of ordinary humans. None had actually undertaken the trek in written history and only two treks were spoken of in the stories, recounted at length over community meals in the village kitchen. The current situation had been deemed critical enough to warrant an attempt, so Raj and Vikram set out on the journey.

The air grew thin as they climbed, becomingly increasingly pure. The sun, unfiltered by smoke and pollution, beat down and burned any skin the warriors left exposed, despite the freezing temperatures. Raj and Vikram eventually left any sign of humanity’s corruption far behind them.

After four full days and three long nights, the two villagers approached the cave of the ancient Shaman. Saiman sat at the entrance to a cave, his legs folded into the lotus position, his eyes closed. A small fire sputtered in front of him, struggling to stay ablaze in the oxygen-deprived environment.

Raj and Vikram bowed respectfully as they approached the Shaman, then gasped as Saiman’s eyes flew open.

“Master,” Raj began. He kept his words few and succinct. “We seek the Dragon.”

A few moments passed as the Master’s eyes pierced their souls, reading their intentions. Eventually his gaze narrowed into a squint, a question. Why?

“China and Russia are fighting over the mountains,” Raj said.

“The Dragon does not concern itself with the borders of men,” Saiman said, his voice dry and soft.

Raj exchanged a quick glance with his father, Vikram, then tried a different approach.

“Corporations are poisoning our air and our waters.”

“The Dragon does not concern itself with the greed of men,” the Shaman countered. “Nature will heal with the passage of time.”

“Our people have devoted their lives to the Dragon for generations.” Raj let some desperation bleed into his voice. “The Dragon’s people are dying.”

“The Dragon does not concern itself with the fleeting lives of men.” Saiman paused briefly, then continued. “The Dragon did not ask for such devotion.”

Raj and Vikram exchanged another look, then Vikram shrugged.

“Come, son,” the father said. “We have a long trek to the waters. The Serpent Gods will surely help us.”

“Yes, father.” Raj turned, casting one last sorrowful glance at the Shaman. “We should have gone there first. We will swear the devotion of our people to them, and they will surely help us.”

The fire at Saiman’s feet flared as the two villagers walked away. They felt the heat on their backs and exchanged a sly grin, pausing as the clouds darkened overhead. Lightning flashed and thunder rolled across the landscape. Raj and Vikram turned to face the Shaman.

“The Serpent Gods?!” Saiman roared. The wizened old man leapt to his feet, his eyes flashing red as his body grew in size. Wings unfurled from his back and red scales spread over his skin.

“My people need not concern themselves with such minor deities.”