Watersnake, Firesnake | Page 4

Jason Erik Lundberg
to us."
"No . . . "
"Give us the egg, or we will kill your parents," the man said, the first words Chan had ever heard him say. "We have them bound to their bed, and will slit their throats. We have killed before, and will have no trouble doing it again."
A shiver traveled the length of Chan's body and settled at the base of his neck. He could just imagine his parents tied up and helpless, and he almost started crying.
"You must give us ownership of the egg willingly," the dark man said, his voice deep and rumbling. "We will have the phoenix bird, and control the fate of the world. It is the key to releasing our Master. Give it to us, now!"
Chan shook his head, wishing his parents were there. The strange man and woman advanced on him, and Chan took another step back, not paying attention to where he was going. He stepped on the egg, which gave slightly with a crunching sound, then, overbalanced, Chan toppled onto his back. He looked up in time to see the man and woman stop, their faces frozen in surprise.
And in that moment, the egg hatched.
A burst of flame erupted from the egg, and shot into the sky. It circled the house three times, taking the form of a great bird, then descended toward Chan. Chan screamed and threw his arms in front of his face, ready to be burned alive. But all he felt was a slight thump as a very large bird landed on his shoulder. Chan opened his eyes. The bird's feathers were the bright reds, oranges, and yellows of flame. As it gripped his shoulder, Chan realized it was talking to him, a birdlike voice in his head.
"What do you wish of me, my master?" it trilled.
Chan looked over as the man and woman shimmered. A bright light seemed to unfurl from the both of them, lengthening and growing until they were twenty feet in length. They hovered over the ground, and as their faces resolved, and whiskers sprouted from their elongated muzzles, Chan understood that they were dragons, but not the kind he was used to hearing about. Chinese dragons were usually benevolent, and protected mankind, while these two definitely wanted to hurt him. Maybe foreign dragons were not supposed to be good. The woman had transformed into a snake-like dragon made entirely of water, and the man a dragon of green fire. They snapped their jaws open and shut several times, then flew like loose ribbons toward the house. Chan saw where they were headed and yelled to the phoenix bird on his shoulder.
"Save my parents!" he commanded, and the phoenix lifted off, igniting in mid-air. It streaked toward the two dragons, and rained fire upon them. The water dragon hissed and spat as its form sizzled, and the green fire dragon howled as the phoenix fire burned through it own flames. The phoenix pecked and dove, and lured the dragons away from the house. The three creatures lifted high into the sky, and disappeared into the clouds. Chan could see bursts of flame like lightning within the clouds, and the air filled with electricity. The fine hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end. The battle seemed to go on for hours, then things went quiet, and Chan could sense no activity above him. A solitary speck drifted down from the clouds, gliding down and down and then crashing to the ground at Chan's feet. It was the phoenix. It had won.
Chan picked the phoenix up and cradled it in his arms. Its feathers had been singed badly, and large gashes appeared on its chest and head. Its breath rattled in its throat.
"Thank you, phoenix," Chan said, carrying it across the yard.
"They will not be back," the phoenix warbled in Chan's head. "It is time for me to die, but do not fear. You will need me again, and when the time is right, I will return to you." It exhaled one more time, then was still. Chan placed it on the ground and watched as it burst into flame one final time, reducing its body to ashes. After the flames had died down, Chan saw that an egg peeked through the ashes on the ground, identical to the last egg. A small sprout of green stuck out of the ashes as well, no longer than the length of his thumb; a single spark of plant life in his mother's fallow garden. He picked the egg up and held it to his chest. A pleasant warmth wiggled from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his toes. He took the egg inside, and placed it back in his dresser drawer.
Chan closed the drawer, and walked across
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