Sakra Aesraiyu

 

In the temple compound, near the northern wall, stood a small, old building with a thatched roof. Although relatively slight compared to the majestic temple, it was two stories tall. In the upper level one would notice several small holes that had been created over the centuries that did not quite fit in with the rest of the architectural design of the building. These holes consistently bore various straws, grasses, and prairie weeds within them and allowed much to be dropped to the ground below. From sunrise to sunset, diminutive dragons could be seen flying in and out of this building, causing even more of a mess to the surrounding temple grounds. The task of cleaning up the clutter caused by these often messy creatures was a daunting one. Such was the life of a young man by the name of Sakra Aesraiyu and he lived in one of the only two rooms in the lower level of that very building.

            Sakra arose from his bed and scratched his head beneath his long mane of dark brown hair. Reaching toward his nightstand, he clumsily snatched a minute chain that lay there. Upon the chain hung a tiny whistle made of silver. He placed this chain about his neck, which was the very first thing that he did every morning.

Sakra was twenty years old and he had lived in the temple compound all of his life, rarely leaving its confines. Although old enough to grow a beard, he chose to keep himself void of facial hair—as was the custom of most of the Nirdehna monks.

Taking in a few more deep breaths and setting his mind to the day’s tasks, he pushed himself from his bed and put on the meager clothes that were supplied to him by the Nirdehnian order. These were nothing more than a simple tunic and trousers, but Sakra also had items that he wore regularly that were his very own. Taught from an early age by his aunt how to craft items of fine leather, Sakra put on his self-made boots that fit perfectly and came to mid-thigh.

Then he strapped on a complex series of studded leather straps that were sewn together in such a fashion as to create an impressive piece of armor that fit neatly on his left arm. The piece consisted of a hardened protrusion that sat on his left shoulder and ran level to the ground. Attached to it was a studded leather piece which covered his upper arm, studded leather which covered his forearm, and soft, pliable leather for the elbow joint.

            Sakra patted it roughly in a number of places to ensure a proper fit before walking to his bedchamber door. As he clutched the handle, he glanced over to his right and saw the elaborate sword that hung there. He had made the scabbard himself, designed to fit on his back so it wouldn’t interfere with his armor-bound left arm. He reached for it, but then reconsidered and continued to open the door with a slight shake of his head. With the door open, he turned around and called out, “Taniya!”

            With that call, a dragon that was previously perched inside of the bedchamber flew out immediately and landed gracefully upon the makeshift platform formed by Sakra’s studded leather armor.

            “There’s my girl…there’s my pretty girl,” Sakra said while nuzzling the dragon balanced upon his left shoulder. The dragon, uncharacteristically for a messenger dragon, returned his affection with its eyes closed and a slight dart of its forked tongue—but, then again, Taniya was no messenger dragon.

            Sakra immediately set out to work. There were nearly two hundred messenger dragons at any given time in the upper loft of the Dragonry, and almost a dozen younglings on the first level—all of which needed to be fed before Sakra could enjoy his own breakfast.

            Outside of the ramshackle wooden door in the rear of the room was the small, grassy section of land that lay between the Dragonry and the ancient wall to the north. Sakra had used this area to set up an assortment of nets that were so finely woven as to trap some of the smallest of insects. These would fly about helplessly until finally caught up in a wooden receptacle in the bottom of the apparatus. Sakra would daily empty this receptacle to be used as feed. At the front of the Dragonry stood a box. Sakra opened the box and found five dead rats inside. The denizens of the temple compound knew that any trapped rat was to be left for the use of the Dragonry.

            “Meager pickings, I must say,” Sakra commented to Taniya who was shifting her weight from side to side and flicking her tongue wildly at the sight of the rats. “Oh now,” Sakra gently scolded, “you know that our breakfast comes later.”

Sakra tossed the five rats upon a workbench and withdrew a knife. He whistled a happy tune while cleaning the rat flesh from the bones and removing two glands that never sat well with the dragons. All the while Taniya was patiently waiting her turn—even though she stared at each succulent strip. In the loft the dragons began to stir. They knew that once Sakra began whistling their meal was not far away.

Sakra carefully divided up the strips, added them to portions of the inner organs of the rats, mixed in a healthy serving of the captured insects, and set each portion into small bins. The bins were then topped off with bits of dried beef and pork. This was the dragons’ least favorite part of the meal, but the fresh meat and insect slurry gave everything else a satisfying taste.

“Okay, down,” Sakra commanded while tapping the bench. Taniya jumped down and sniffed the blood stained wood of the bench surface. Sakra, meanwhile, climbed the ladder that led to the loft while fumbling slightly with the food bins. The dragons were always glad to see Sakra, even when he didn’t have food for them. He was especially adept in the care and treatment of these magnificent animals and they could sense that he held a sincere love for them. After distributing the food in the loft, Sakra climbed back down the ladder and noticed that Taniya was being a bit mischievous and was poking her nose into the sack of remaining insects.

“Oh no you don’t!” Sakra gently chastised. Taniya withdrew her nose and stepped back a couple of steps, her forked tongue darting out while her gazed shifted continually between Sakra and the bag of insects. Sakra gently scratched her behind her ears and added, “You little troublemaker.”

Sakra took the bag of insects and maneuvered a chair next to the table on the opposite wall of the workbench. The table held a number of little cages. Each of the cages contained a youngling dragon. After sitting down, Sakra gently took one of the younglings from its individual cage.

“Easy now…shh shh,” Sakra said softly while handling the animal. After stroking its neck for a short time, he would then begin humming a song. After the dragon was calm, he grasped a pinch of the freshly dead insects and placed them into the dragon’s mouth—using his thumb and index finger to mimic a beak or, more appropriately, the fore-nose of a mother dragon. He continued in this manner until all of the younglings were properly fed and redeposited in their respective cages.

“Okay, girl,” he said to Taniya while tapping his left shoulder. “Now it’s our turn.” Taniya flew to the spot indicated by his gesture and landed on his shoulder. Sakra and Taniya left the Dragonry and strolled to the nearby temple where they would receive their much deserved breakfast.