Saturday, December 27, 2008

Clearing my throat...that is one long undertaking for Me!

In the beginning (I do not speak of a true beginning, as in regard to Time, the World, or the Universe--s'not as if I think all of that revolves around c'est moi, but rather the start of my first book, The Dragons' Veil) I am described in flight, amid the winds and clouds of my home world, Isoladia. A sight, I must say, to bring a swelling of pride into the breast, an enlargement of one's heart (oh, not quite a heart attack!), a puffiness of the diaphragm, an extension of the ribcage...all that wonder and excitement one feels upon seeing a sight so profoundly breath-taking--well, that is Me in flight. Not that I'm prejudice. My concept of self is as discerning as the next Dragon's. In any case, I am in flight, on the wing, burdened by the presence of one very angry and disruptive Princess--Shaila, by name--in my upper gullet. I had to swallow her, you see. No choice in the matter. I was accompanying her on her husband-quest when she threatened to plant her little fist in the rather enhanced nose of a suitor she found unsuitable. Someone must consider protocol, and I was given an edict by her father, King Harrimore, Royal leader of the Kingdom of Ambistron, to keep her safe. Which means guarding her actions as well as her Royal person. The Princess can be a tad unruly. Rowdy. Boisterous. All right, she's a claw full!

Point being, I'm flying the little disorder home when it comes to me she is probably running out of air, so I land to regurgitate her. She comes out articulating her displeasure--so there's a little stomach slime involved in being carried in a Dragon's gullet--s'not as if I was digesting her! One never digests a species of equitable intellect. But she lays into me, all bristle and fume and womanly rage, and--being the keen mind that I am--I realize she is as disturbed by the situation of the husband-quest as by the inconvenience of my gullet slime. One inquiry leads to another, and she confesses she wants a husband with a warrior's build and character. The girl has convinced herself that such a man would be focused on his muscles and bragging about his prowess instead of concentrating on what his wife is up to. Of course, being as I am an astute Dragon, sharp, perceptive, shrewd, I recognize her ploy. She wants a man who will ignore her unruly nature. I can sympathize, but, as I wisely point out, there are no warriors in the world of Isoladia. No need for such, not in a place of perpetual peace and calm. The great Veil that surrounds our land keeps us safe from war and hunger and all related unpleasantness.

Does she listen to Me? I suppose there is a first time for everything, but this isn't one of them. When I calmly and kindly suggest that she speak of her preferences to her Father, she has the audacity to demand that I do the one thing Dragons--and humans in Isoladia--are forbidden to do! Even with my claw-tips in my ear holes I can hear her demanding female voice: “I will have a warrior. You must carry me in search beyond the Veil!”

I can see the writing on the wall, the scroll, the tome page...there is trouble ahead.

Well, that is the beginning of the tale.

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