Elinor. The Deserted Valley. Book 1. Mikhail Shelkov

dragons is an ancient and honorable craft. It emerged in the time of the first Djunits, and it was the Marawie Sand Lion himself who proclaimed dragon hunting as part of the military doctrine. In ancient times, it was difficult to even call it hunting; rather, it was a struggle for survival. Having arrived in the desert, the settlers faced a great misfortune in the form of these vile, treacherous creatures. And even Marawie fell in battle against the sand dragons. But his people stood firm. Scorpio-anglers and dragons have not attacked the city for a long time. And, thanks to such hunters as Khasim, these creatures are less and less likely to attack commercial caravans. On large paths, at least, they haven’t been seen in a long time.

      I turned eighteen the day after I graduated from high school. On my birthday, I was waiting for a message from my father… not such a gift as a trip to Bandabaze, of course, but at least some note. I entered the age of maturity and now I could go anywhere by myself, on any trip. But I wanted to see my father.

      The year passed by and there was no news from him.

      My birthday was coming to an end, and I was sitting alone in my room, crying. I was more alone than ever. My mum and brother… I felt their love, but I couldn’t trust them as I trusted my father.

      Khasim entered the room. He asked why I was crying. I stayed quiet. After all, it was so obvious! He was silent for a long time. Then asked one more question, “What can I do for you? I don’t want you to cry…”

      “What can you do for me, brother… " I replied with a sigh.

      He stood above me, very still for a long time, which irritated me. I wanted to snap at him, scream. I’m glad I restrained myself. Now I can imagine what inner conflict he was going through!

      “Get ready!” he finally told me. It was an order. “We are leaving at dawn!”

      “Where to?” I was a little taken aback.

      “I’ll show you how they hunt sand dragons…”

      Oh, Khasim! How could I ever have expected such a thing from him? I jumped off my bed, rushed to him, and hugged him tightly. Throughout my eighteen years, I had never been close to my brother. And he, as it turns out, had always understood me. For some reason, he hadn’t shown it. Is it that stiffness is a sign of noble families?

      It turned out that Khasim wasn’t a total copy of our mother after all. Father’s adventurism flowed in his veins, even though it manifested in a very peculiar way.

      “And not a word to mother!” Khasim added. But it was needless, I understood everything perfectly myself.

      When, in childhood, my brother made comments like, “Do not go there!”, “Stop fidgeting!”, “Be modest!”, “Speak quietly!” I was very annoyed. I did the exact opposite just to spite him. But that day, I listened to every single word of his.

      He left me on the furthest barchan. Two tall warriors were assigned by him to protect me. What if a lonely dragon flew in our direction?

      My brother divided his troop into three groups: left flank, center, and right flank. Naturally, he himself stood in the center. Behind him stood archers and spear throwers. These were the tactics of fighting monsters used for centuries, I knew that from history lessons.

      Khasim led the soldiers to a sandy hill, where he expected a dragon’s lair. The soldiers carefully moved their feet along the sandy surface, almost gliding.

      At any time, the flock could break out from under the ground, and then the solid surface would turn into a deadly funnel. That was how Marawie sunk into oblivion, having fallen through the quicksand into the dragon’s cave, and that is how hundreds of thousands of soldiers ended their lives…

      A long spear whistled through the air and buried itself in the hillside. The sand began to fall off the slopes at once and soon a hole of the size of a human formed in the hill. Khasim was not mistaken – it was a lair!

      Literally in the same moment, a scary head appeared out of the black hole, and then an ugly dragon’s body. A small spear dart, thrown by a warrior from the rear rows, pierced the dragon in the mouth. The first one had been dealt with!

      Khasim suddenly gave the command to retreat, pointing his hand back. Again, the experienced commander predicted the situation. The hill quickly began to sink into the depths of the desert, the sand began to pour into the empty space, and new dragons came out from the smaller sandy mounds.

      The first to close the formation were the warriors of the left flank. They shielded themselves, pointing forward long spears, and pressing the monsters back.

      I could already count forty dragons in the pack.

      First, they looked puzzled, but then, all of a sudden, in a wave, they rushed toward the soldiers. All three groups were attacked. The warriors covered their heads with shields and sat on one knee.

      I knew that my brother was waiting, luring the dragons into a trap, trying to convince them of their own victory. But I stood still, on top of the barchan, dumb with fear. It was only in that moment that I understood what a great danger my brother had been exposing himself to all these years. For a night, a brother with whom I had never been able to find a Common Language, became so close and dear to me.

      Two of my guards continued to stand quietly, all this time remaining unperturbed, as though watching an auction in a square, and not a deadly battle.

      Suddenly, Khasim and two loyal fighters broke out of formation. With a sharp twist, they rolled under a flock of dragons hovering over the troop and rushed towards the biggest. This one was almost black in color, while the rest ranged in shades from muddy-green to the color of beige sand. The leader, I realized. One fighter clung to the tail of the dragon, the second pulled on a clawed rear paw. At that moment, Khasim jumped as high as he could, and struck the shell of the leader with the tip of his sword. After a wild yelp, it collapsed into the sand. My brother jumped to him and severed his head with one swift stroke.

      It is difficult to convey into words what happened next, as wild confusion arose in the pack. The soldiers began spearing the dragons with their lances. The creatures didn’t even try to rise higher into the air, as though they had immediately agreed to the carnage. Their dead carcasses kept falling and falling. The fighters only had to dodge them.

      In a few minutes the flight of dragons was killed off…

      I ran from the barchan, stumbling over the motionless sand waves, my feet tangling. I wanted to hug my brother as quickly as possible.

      Never again did I ask him to take me on a hunt. I longed for adventure, but that day I realized I could not stand and watch someone dear fight between life and death. I just couldn’t. Perhaps my mother still thinks that hunting for sand dragons is just a hunt, akin to hunting a deer or antelope… Let her continue to think so! She does not need to know the truth!

      Since then, I’ve become different… quieter, calmer. How the life of a little girl could be changed by one sleepless night in the desert!

      Khasim got married and moved to Ayno-Suf with his family. Now he teaches young fighters and rarely goes hunting himself.

      In the meantime, I turned twenty-four. Mum began incessantly talking about how I should have a husband and a family. I listened to her calmly, protesting silently…

      And, suddenly, a letter! From father!

      My father spent several years with the Vedichs and was now returning with a “heap of discoveries”, he wrote.

      Mum was angry. She already resigned herself to the fact that father was not around; considered him not as someone deceased, but gone forever. She learned