The Watchers

He walked further than most, yet never felt the need to sleep much.
Nights would often be spent walking as far as he dared in the dark,
before settling by the warmth of a fire. He would then sit with a large
stick and prod the embers, sending up fairy sparks into the air, and he
would see images in the flames. Devils, angels, other worlds, animals,
faces, ancient symbols from long forgotten civilizations.

He missed her, it had been many years since she had gone, the only
woman he had ever loved. Yet she was mortal and he was of another race,
a secret race forgotten by the history of mankind, his race now was
part of myth and legend, the stuff of fairy stories. Yet some still
walked the earth, though only a few, and they found the going hard. The
sea, the sky, the land was caked in pollution, pollution that could
both be seen and couldn't be seen. Resources that belonged to the
balance of the earth were being exploited far beyond what the earth
could cope with. Whole species of animal and plant had become extinct
or were close to extinction. These were strange and troubling times,
for mankind had without a doubt ascerted his dominion on the earth,
charting every land and ocean and building there if it could. Never
before in the history of the world had this happened, humanity was now
so prolific, it would if it didn't slow down, didn't change it's ways,
be in danger of destroying itself, as well as the innocent wild
animals, insects and plants that tried to share the same space as
them.

He wore a turquoise cloak, and by his side there was a sturdy staff
made of yew, carved into it's side were the runic symbols, the last
remnants of a forgotten language, now only known by a few. Tied about
his cloth belt there was a pouch, and in the contents of this pouch
were the runic symbols, each one carved on marble rock, and next to the
pouch on his belt there was tied a hip flask of water, this was all he
needed, he survived by eating the many herbs and fruits he could gleam
in the countryside. Animals he did not eat, he found meat difficult to
digest, his people had never been accustomed to eating meat, they were
a folk that didn't need to eat much, they gained there sustenance
through many things and could gain much nourishment from a handful of
nuts or berries. Seeing all life as sacred, they would not feel right
taking another life whether it be plant or animal, preferring only to
eat the fruit and nuts of trees, the berries of shrubs, then returning
the seed of these back to the earth, ready fertilized.

She had bore him a child, a beautiful blue eyed boy, with hair the
colour of Autumn. He had for a time known happiness, watching him grow
and play, teaching him the skills he would need to survive; enjoying
for a time hearing the laughter as they played and danced together as
one family, watching the seasons come and go, the years pass, till she
grew older, and the young boy became a man. But he through the nature
of his blood did not age.
Then the questions came: "Dad, why don't you grow old like Mum?"

"I do grow old, but not in the way you think; I am already older than
your grandparents and their grandparents before them, yet my age
doesn't show in the same way as it does with you and your
mother."

"Dad I don't understand you, how can you be older than my
grandparents?"

"Look beyond logic and reason my dear boy, there are more things in
heaven and earth than are dreamed of in man's philosophy. Think
laterally son, knowledge can be a trap, when one thinks they have
learnt everything there is to know, they grow lazy in their
understanding, think that their world is defined, then grow bored as
there is no more mystery for them, or at least they refuse to admit
there still is in their pride. And in their idle folly they destroy
themselves. Beware of this son, never stop looking, never believe you
have the final answer, never stop studying, learning, never think you
have understood the universe or even a blade of grass. Always look at
the world as if it is for the first time. You must never have a closed
mind, let your mind always be open, to new possibilities, new ways of
thinking."

To which his son had looked at him at first confused, then laughed and
thought him mad. Till the day came when they stood together at his
mother's funeral, his son now nearly fifty years of age, and during
those lonely sad moments of loss, he saw that his father had not
changed one bit physically, and he mutterered, "There are indeed more
things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy,
father; the next time you have to do this you will be alone, and me and
mother will know something that you don't."

His father nodded sadly. Twenty one years later, he stood by the
bedside of a frail and withered dying old man that was his son. "Well
father, I go now to discover something you cannot know." He said.

"Oneday perhaps I will know." He answered.

The old man that was his son smiled weakly. "You always speak in such
mysterious tones father. But for once..." he coughed as if in a spasm
of pain, then recovered and continued. "...for once speak plainly to
me. How is it you are older than my grandparents and my great great
grandparents? What manner of man are you? And why is it I grow old and
die, and you do not?"

"I am not a man." His father said.

To which his son laughed, and coughed again in pain, then laughed some
more, the doctors came and went to inject more morphine to ease the
pain, but his son pushed them away... "No, please, I don't want to be
drugged, I want to feel my death with all my senses, don't steal that
from me."

His father looked at him in surprise and also with pride. His brave
son, he was strong, he was proud of him, perhaps here now by his
deathbed, he felt prouder of his son than he had ever done
before.

Then his son looked upon his father's face and sadness grew there, for
a sudden realization dawned on him and he understood for the first time
his father's inner pain; and he reached out a frail bony hand and held
his father's hand in his and squeezed tight, as the light left his eyes
and he died. It was then his father knew real pain, the pain he stored
within himself for nearly 90 years. The two people he had loved the
most, had left him, he was truly alone now and nothing but death could
heal that pain inside, and death was not something he would know. Not
for a long time.

He left the room, left that town, that country, that life behind him
and never returned. And that night in the pouring rain, on top of a
hill he had never been to before, he let out the wail of tears he had
kept hidden since his wife had died, and knew what it was to be
berieved. To watch the woman you love grow frail and then die, to watch
your only son live from his birth to his death. He knew this was to be,
he had gone against the order of his creed; it was ordained that to
fall in love with a human was sheer folly and could only bring sorrow.
Countless tragic love stories filled the literature of his race, yet
when he had met her, it was impossible to stop the feelings that
stirred in his heart; and he was willing to spend what little time he
could with her, to satisfy the aches deep within and spend the rest of
his long years in mourning, than to miss out on the joy that woman
could bring. And he didn't regret any of it, only that he didn't pass
on the immortality to his son upon conception.

But that was many years ago now, and time had almost smited the
memories of those years from him, so that he felt guilt whenever he
tried to picture the two people he had loved most in his mind, and
found to his shame he could no longer remember what they looked like.
He of course couldn't die by natural means. Many of his race had of
course died, died mainly through war. For there was once a great fierce
war against his kind, as humanity sought to gain control and dominion
of the earth, they hunted and executed his people without mercy. Afraid
of his races great power in the arts of magic and immortality. They
with their greater numbers all but nearly wiped out his kind, who
either died at their merciles hands, or fled to a secret island far
away to carry on their civilization in peace. The island was surrounded
and protected night and day by winds that shielded it from any who may
sail or fly there by accident, as the island was hidden from sight by
many prisms that bent light in such a way as to make it look like
nothing but a stretch of ocean. If any did find their way there by
accident they would never return to the mainlands. And there a small
number of his race fled and built a new civilization for
themselves.

They were a graceful peaceful race that never went against the laws of
nature, preferring to live simply and in harmony with the earth, it is
perhaps what made them so weak, when they great battle came. For they
had known about mankind for many years, but had not feared them,
thinking them young in their evolution and a little foolish, but mostly
harmless. So it had been by surprise they had found themselves
unwillingly at war, with a species they had regarded as no more than an
evolved form of ape.

Their magic was powerful enough to use in self-defence, but they were
fewer in number than the humans and mankind came at them in ever
increasing numbers, and no magic was poweful enough to resist thousands
and thousands of angry mobs of people. Mankind hunted and persecuted
them out of superstition and fear, and had found a weak spot in their
evolving strategies, that cut through the armour of their magic and
slayed them on the spot; and so after many bitter years the war was
over, and the remainder of his folk fled, to seperate themselves
forever from the madness and tragic remembrance of the mainland and the
cruel ways of mankind.

But there were some who remained, and hid, and passed unnoticed through
the world, pretending to be human. They were called the watchers, a
specially chosen few, commisioned to guard and protect the secrets of
their peoples ancient monuments, to hide their magic in runic code and
mix the meanings so that humanity could never know their ways or the
truth of what had happened. And so well hidden was the secret of those
times, that even after all these millenia, humanity still didn't know
the mystery behind the stone circles, of the empty ruins of cities were
the inhabitants seemingly vanished into thin air, these were the
remains of a long forgotten civilization that existed long before
humanity came and sought dominion of the earth. It was the lands
remembrance of his people's civilization.

The watchers were aptly named, for it was their secret charge to watch
humanity and see to it that their progress did not grow out of control
and cause the destruction of everything; for they, the ancient folk
still remembered the innocent wildlife of the lands they left behind,
and loved them so, and grieved for them; and vowed that if humanity
ever went too far and threatened the existence of the earth, they would
intervene; and use a terrible magic they were loathe to use, to stop
them.

And now the year was 2015, and the world had become a place of horror.
Humanity had gone out of control, and the watchers had patiently walked
and waited for the signal they knew must surely come soon. It had
started with strange lights and colours in the sky, that people had
wondered about and scientists had no explanation for; these had been a
warning, a way perhaps to show mankind there was more to life than they
thought. Perhaps also a means to mellow them out a bit. But this gentle
warning did not press home on the minds of humanity. The next sign had
come shortly after, the wind grew more fierce, the rain fell heavier
and the sea began to grow restless. The media was filled with angry
debates and pleas for people to change their ways, before it was too
late. Humanity at this point had begun to understand that what they
were doing to the earth was wrong and that they needed to change; but
those who stood up for it, were persecuted, ridiculed, laughed at, made
to feel like freaks, and sadly the darkest emotion that filled
humanities hearts : greed - conquered; and the brainwashed billions
continued to mass consume, use up resources, pollute and poison.

That left the final warning : the watchers themselves must try to warn
them of the coming wrath.

To which the turquoise cloaked figure had waited patiently all these
long years. He undid the pouch from his cloth belt and placed the runes
around the fire. The marble of the runestones was the same colour as
his cloak. He stood to his full height and holding the great yew staff
aloft with both hands he began to sing the ancient song of change, and
his being longed for this with all it's atoms. The rune symbols etched
on the turquiose marble placed in a circle around the fire, began to
glow with a strong throbbing light; and he sang all the more louder, as
the fire grew stronger, no longer needing the wood to keep it burning,
and his staff too, began to glow as if it was a part of him. Thunder
cracked in the skies, and then the lightening struck and hit his staff,
and the electricity arced and pulsed through his shaking form, and he
changed back to his true nature, that which he had been from the very
beginning, that which had been persecuted by man to the point nearly of
extinction. And then the fire, the runes, the cloaked figure holding
the staff, the lightening and the thunder were all gone; and in it's
place, stood snorting flames from it's nostrils, a huge turquoise
dragon.

He was a dragon of the winds, for some dragons are of the earth, and
others of the water, but he was of the air and the wind, a mighty
dragon. And spreading his wings he took off from that hill, freed at
last from the form that had hidden him all those many many years on
earth; so that during those many years he had almost forgotten his true
self, and grew in danger of becoming trapped in it. But now he was
free, after all these years he was free again, free to be what he had
always been : a dragon.

He soared over the towns and cities, causing great winds to stir, as
his brother and sister watchers did the same : the dragons of earth and
sea, they caused the ground to shake and the seas to rise, the rain to
fall, the plants to grow through brick and concrete. The people of the
world shuddered in fear as the mythical beasts worked their ancient
magic. For forty days and nights they hailed the people of the earth to
turn from their ways, warned them of impending doom. To which the
dragons were answered with missiles and bombs.

But the turqoise dragon of the air laughed away the missiles with his
powerful gusts of wind, the helicoptors and planes of war, were torn
asunder by the whirlwinds before they even came close. And once the
alotted time was over, and still humanity refused to stop. The dragons
left, and returned to the hidden isle of their kind.

Some of the watcher dragons had fallen, struck down by the weapons of
mankind, but many survived and returned safely to the magically sealed
island of their race. And for a time a great silence was upon the
earth, one last chance given for humanity to change their ways. But
still they continued to pollute and harm the earth, and so the
judgement came. The dragons in their ancient pact with the forces of
nature, with the wild, brought about mercilessly the destruction of the
human race.

The incurable disease came suddenly, and spread to the four corners of
the world. A disease that worked quickly and infected every man, woman
and child without discrimination. A disease that only affected human
beings - animals, plants and insects could not catch it, and so in a
matter of months, mankind in all his glory was vanquished from the
earth. Only a few were spared, a few indiginous peoples who had always
loved and respected nature. Whom the dragons had promised peace. People
like the native american indians, the aborigines, peoples of the
rainforests in South America and Africa, and simple folk of Scandinavia
and others about the earth who had chosen not to be a part of the
senseless destruction of nature, those preferring to follow the ways of
their ancestors and live in harmony with the wild.

And so these indigenous peoples found after the many years of their
captivity, of seeing their lands being taken by force, of watching them
being polluted and concreted over, the sacredness being exploited; the
heartache of watching their races diminish and grow weak, from the
angry mechanization of mass consumerism and alcoholic poisoning; found
after all the years of suffering they had know, the sadness and the
pain - that they had got back their lands once again.

The concrete structures left by the extinct humanity of mass
consumerism, groaned and cracked and fell apart, became overgrown by
the plants and trees; by the vegetation accelerated by the magic of the
green dragons. And so the great cities of concrete and steel once again
became lush forests full of life and birdsong; the roads once again
became plains were buffalo and wild cows grazed freely; and the people
who were spared the wrath of the dragons remembered what had happened,
and passed down the knowledge of the dragons story to generation after
generation, to warn them against the folly of greed, and the madness of
pollution and exploitation.

And somewhere it was rumoured hidden deep within the ocean, there was
an island shrouded by magic, were the dragons lived; and some say it is
in that patch of water known as the Bermuda Triangle, but none who have
gone there have ever returned to confirm this or tell the tale of the
truth of dragons. And sometimes at that time of day when the sun is
either setting or rising, and the world is bathed in twilight; people
have said there can be seen a great turqoise dragone soaring through
the skies, and the elders of the tribes, say it is one of the watcher
dragons checking to see that all is well on the earth and that the
plants and wild animals are coming to no harm.