[ WP ] A western dragon meet an eastern dragon .

Copyright© D. A. Bathory 2015 
 
 
 **Dragoban** 
 
 “ The arrival of the West has been delayed. The storm coming out of the arctic has effected flight. ” 
 
 “ We have waited a hundred years for this. A few more minutes will make no difference, ” said a voice like silk, a whisper that was louder than the room it hushed. 
 
 “ As you say, Madam. ” The head of retinue bowed deeply and shuffled backwards, leaving the Dragon to prepare for battle in her own way. 
 
 Interrupting her meditation, voices rose in the corridor out beyond the ceremonial chamber and footsteps approached the great carved door. The Dragon raised her head and unfolded her limbs, finding her feet in a whirl of colour. It would not do to be observed by the West in such a submissive position. 
 
 The great door swung open, whorls of embossed dragon bodies illuminated in glinting gold as it completed its arc to lay against the wall of the chamber. The head of the Western retinue stepped into the room, making his obeisance to the Lady as his followers filed into the room, lining the western wall. Her own head of retinue stepped forward to commence the introductions as an elderly man with a shock of white hair stepped purposefully into the room. 
 
 “ Great Lady, may I present the Dragon of the West, Garrison Drew. ” 
 
 Their eyes met, and the man bowed, unhampered by the cane he carried. His own head of retinue stepped forward exactly ten inches to make a similar introduction. 
 
 “ Lord, may I present the Dragon of the East, Michiko Yamato. ” She inclined her own head, stooping an infinitesimal amount beneath her heavy robes. 
 
 “ I have waited a long time to meet you, Lord Garrison, ” the old woman said with a twinkle in her eye. 
 
 “ As have I, Lady Michiko. It is indeed a beautiful day for our birthday celebrations. Shall we sit? ” 
 
 “ As you wish. ” The Lady gestured toward the two jade chairs in the centre of the room, between which rose the narrow, cylindrical platform. The sleeve of her kimono cut the air in a wide swathe, a myriad of colours making the fabric seem iridescent. The silk had been blended from the colours of every country in the East, the dappling of the nacreous threads gave it the appearance of finely sheathed scales. 
 
 They sat, graceful and poised for ones of such advanced years, bright eyes taking in the appearance of their counterpart. His swept over her steel grey hair and the laughter lines that sat aside twinkling black eyes that were tip-tilted like a cat ’ s. Hers took in the shock of sleek, white hair and the chips of blue ice that regarded her with such a knowing look. 
 
 Both of them reached their hundredth year today, lives turned full circle. A Dragon must live part of their life in each of the countries they represented, though they always came to rest in the place of their birth. The Lady had begun her life among the cherry blossoms of Japan, and custom dictated that she would end it there, too, just as it dictated that the Lord of the West must return to the mountain foothills of his homeland. 
 
 The sacred chamber was cut into the heart of one of the largest opal mines in Australia, the last neutral territory on the planet, deep underground. The air was undisturbed and silent, perfect for the concentration needed for their next actions. 
 
 With great care one of the lower retinue placed the goban on the flat surface of the pedestal between their chairs, so as to not jostle the black and white stones that sat on the intersections of the grid. This game of Go had been in play now for twenty centuries, and contained nineteen pairs of stones, black and white, with one extra black, which had been placed in the upper right corner as the very first move all those years ago, as was customary out of respect for the white ’ s player. To these he must now add one black stone, and she one white, to determine if the planet ’ s current peace should last or if it should be cast into bloody conflict. 
 
 “ This shall be our final turn, ” said the Lady, extending her hand to pick a white stone out of the turned wooden bowl. 
 
 “ We both knew it was coming. All this time, we ’ ve danced around it, ” came his reply. 
 
 The Dragons were chosen at birth, a boy of the West and a girl of the East, born on the same day. Several pairs were chosen, in fact, as there was no guarantee that they would reach the day of their hundredth year alive or with all faculties intact. The twelve pregnant women in the antechamber would be induced today, their named day, and all the pairs of children matched up with their counterparts. Of the most successful to thrive, those who excelled the most in their studies of tactics, history, languages, philosophy and a hundred other subjects would, a hundred years from now, find themselves facing each other across this game of Go, to place two more stones upon the grid. 
 
 At least, that was the public story. 
 
 No-one outside the pair who now faced each other across the goban knew that none of those children would ever see their one hundredth birthday. They had been playing this game too long to see it usurped by, in comparison to their longevity, mere infants. Every century the chosen pair would go missing, and the two who had started this would retake the chairs to which they had become so accustomed. They would take stones from the cracked bowls into which they had first dipped their fingers now two thousand years ago, and play another turn, determining war or peace between the East and the West for another century. 
 
 The members of the retinue had never thought to study the board, or if any had, they had not lived to tell about it. If they had, they would have noticed that the tactics employed in timeless brevity upon the board were not those of war, of offence and defence, but of advance and retreat, of bold seduction and coy rejection. They had played with a world for more than thirty generations, only to give shadowed answers. They flirted casually with the terms of war and peace, tipping the world into bloodshed or enlightenment at their whim, all for the sake of foreplay. 
 
 The game of Go was but a courtship, two millennia in the making. 
 
 “ I believe it is time to end the charade, my Himiko. ” His tongue savoured the feel of the name by which he had first known her. 
 
 “ Indeed it is. But tell me, Gaius Ovidius Maximinus, what shall we do now? ” 
 
 “ I believe, Lady, that we should dance. ” 
 
 A small puff of smoke formed in front of her face as she made a soft noise of amusement. Several small scales appeared to gleam either side of his nose as the corners of his mouth curled up in anticipation. 
 
 “ But perhaps first, we should eat? ” She licked her lips hungrily and shrugged off the shawl that had sat around her shoulders. As she took his outstretched hand and stood, twirling to his side to the looks of confusion of their retinues, she was careful not to scratch him with her talons as they began to extend. 
 
 Experimentally he blew a small flame from his lips before turning to the horrified onlookers. 
 
 “ We have decided against peace and for…dinner. ” Cries rose as he accompanied his words with a lengthening stride and a whoosh of hot air. “ Shall we play to see who eats whom first? ” 
 
 “ All is fair and love and war, darling, ” said the Dragon of the East, fastening her gaze on the person closest to her as her milky skin was replaced by the opalescent sheen of scales. “ You know how I like to cheat. ” 
 
 He noted with joy the two small nubs protruding from her shoulders blades, a sharp point atop each one. 
 
 Her wings were growing.
