Songhata's First Battle: Part III

A woven scroll passed down among the Children of Echoes, telling the legend of the hero Songhata five hundred years ago in his youth.

Songhata lost his good name and willingly set out on adventure,

went to a far lake of magma, let heat-waves scorch his body.

The magma lake has long cooled and no longer rages with dragon-serpents,

but then it was the domain of the evil dragon Lukwata,

Lukwata one of the few remnants of the ancient dragon-kin,

evil of heart, forever wanting to restore the dragons' tyranny;

that ancient war that overturned heaven and earth had wiped out its people,

yet it hid in dark rock caves and escaped total disaster.

Without the service of thralls, Lukwata had grown old and frail,

eyes burned blind by sulphur breath, mind dull and mad.

Trapped in the phantom of war with Heaven's envoys, unable to escape,

it knew nothing of the age of humans that had already come to Natlan.

When a tiny thrall came to challenge its hidden nest,

the dragon noble rose in fury, coughing and retching, cursing without cease;

with thunder-like curses it spat flame and sulphur from its mouth,

"From where comes this evil thrall, daring disturb a king's rest!"

Songhata saw this legendary evil dragon already old and mad,

opening its mouth to usurp a king's name, forgetting its own kin,

so laughed aloud, shouldered the great hammer, and mocked the old dragon:

"I am only a nameless miner, no evil thrall."

"And how are you any king—only a foolish old lizard!"

Lukwata heard this, rage choked its throat, and again vomited wildly,

vomiting filthy scalding magma and billows of black smoke;

Songhata did not even frown, but swung the heavy hammer straight at the old dragon.

Though Lukwata was old and absurd, when enraged it was still terribly fierce;

the heat of magma scorched Songhata's hair and brows,

dragon-spittle's fierce poison seeping into flesh and organs, agony hard to bear;

yellowed giant fangs left festering wounds, sharp claws tore open old scars;

enduring great pain, Songhata never stopped smashing the heavy hammer down

until the stubborn rock dragon-head cracked, until black smoke was blown away by the hammer-wind.

Until the old dragon's soul fled and scattered, and half the magma lake had cooled,

Songhata lay down satisfied—from then a hero in name and deed!