Eye Sore

They call me Eye-Sore, the dragon girl from a distant land. Beyond the continents and oceans there was the village in which we lived, my mother and father and I. Our house made of sticks, mud and bales of hay, the smell throughout our living quarters warm as the earth below our feet.
My father was a Viking, he pillaged the world from far and wide, bringing luxurious riches to the village in return for labor of the men who lived amongst us on his ship. He must have known he was doing evils to the earth, for he never explained to me just what it was he did for a living, why he was only here for 59 days of the year. Why he came back with so much, surely we weren’t wealthy enough to buy beautiful silverware for every family in the village? I was thirteen years of age, old enough to understand.
One day the crimes he committed in the name of love for his people caught up with him, at the expense of the land he had spent his whole life building up.
They ambushed us in the middle of the night when we all were asleep, fighting our men and reaping our women for whatever unknown cause, somehow most of the young children escaped, only to die from what was probably starvation and thirst in the wilderness.
My father went to battle the attackers, and my mother and I hid amongst sacks of rice and flour, praying to Odin that perhaps we could be spared.
There was no prayer heard in Asgard that night, the following morning, or the night after that. All of our people were like grains of dust, strewn across the desert plains. We were either slain or stolen, one by one. I witnessed my father’s death at the hands of his enemies when they came for my mother and I, feeling the sting of the tears in my eyes as

he pleaded me to stay strong as a last plea, a final wish if you will, in his last breath of life.
My mother begged them to spare me, as she knew not what they were going to do with the children of the village.
Two of the three took her away to board their massive ship back to wherever they hailed from, and the eldest of the men approached me with sad eyes.
“Who are you?” He asked quietly, accusatorily.
I spat on the old man as I wept for my mother and father, his cane immediately crashing across my face.
I laid on the ground, gripping the sand stained with my father’s blood. Death would mean nothing to me, for I had already lost everything.
“Your mother has not told you about who you are.” The man said, “You are the girl with the purple eyes, are you not?”
“Of course!” I cried out, “Why is the color of my eyes of any importance to you, as they will be closed when I draw my last breath.”
“You do not understand.” He said, almost fearfully, “You are a dragon child… I cannot harm you…”
The old man gazed at me, unfocused and eyes glazed over.
At once, he dropped his cane as he fell to the ground, clutching his heart as he gazed at me, the cut he made in my face beginning to swell.
“Eye-Sore the dragon girl…” He whispered before passing away at my feet.

I sat there bewildered as I listened to the silence of death mixed with peace, confused and in a fog of sadness for my lost family and people. The whole village was in ruins; they had burned down almost everything to the ground within three days. Was I to lie down and die? Was I to survive? So many questions pounded through my head, the voices of my mother and father screaming to me, the old man’s words echoed through my head…
“You are a dragon child, I cannot hurt you… Eye-Sore the dragon girl…”
What was all of this supposed to mean? Was I supposed to know? I sighed as I looked up to the sky, the dusk beginning to sweep over all the land that lay below it.
The dragons went extinct a long time ago, almost a decade before I was born. My father always told the story best, that the dragons were being used for war, Vikings and the places they visited would both have dragons available for self-defense. They were powerful creatures, and they were almost undefeatable by mankind. When they fought against each other was an entirely different story. The creatures were being used for battle so frequently and consistently, they simply all died off.
“Fought into extinction.” My father would say.
So why was there talk of me being this unknown entity the old man called a dragon child? Was this something my parents had kept from me? Were they oblivious to it? Or…were they protecting me?

I sighed quietly, and I got up off the ground. There was no use in bothering myself with nonsense some old man said to me when I had to give my father a respectable burial.
I got a shovel out of the house. I remembered the memories of sitting with my parents in the doorway, the curtain moved to the side. We all used to laugh and spend time together, listen to the bustle of the people of the village. Now it was just I, and the quietness was more than I could stand to bear.
I begun to dig a hole in front of our home, first working by whatever light was left from the dying day, and then to the light of a torch I had lit from one of the smoldering houses.
By daybreak, I had the hole enough. I took some of my father’s things for myself, such as his armor, his flint stone, and his sword. Placing a brief kiss to his forehead I let his body into the hole gently, then I began to shovel dirt onto his dead body, filling up the hole over him.
I smoothed out the surface and placed a stone on one end, so that the wild beasts wouldn’t get to eat his carcass. Laying a few flowers I had found in the nearby meadow, I stood for a moment to reflect on his life.
I understood the fact that my father was not what most people would consider a kind human being; after all, he was a Viking. That was what got us all into trouble in the end, but I also understood and admired his intentions, as they were incredibly kind and beautiful in their own nature.
He may have stolen from many people, and probably killed more than one innocent bystander in the process. But he genuinely cared about his little village, which that he and a handful of his men had built up over the years. He was proud, and he loved us all. Nothing he did was done for his own gain, leading up to and including laying down his life for his beloved and his daughter…
Tears began to fall down my face, and burnt the ugly cut that had been made the day before. The cut that should have been healed by now…
I brought my hand up, and touched my wound. It had become swollen, and I felt the skin cracked in some places…
Did the old man really hit me that hard?
I looked over to him, his dead body untouched.
Walking over, I grabbed the cane out of his cold hands with the least amount of respect I could show a dead body and inspected the tip. It was covered in blue shards of what looked like glass, glass that was put there as some sort of decoration.
“Damn.” I said to myself, touching my face again. There must have been more than a few pieces embedded in my cut.
I went into the house to go look at it, I didn’t want it go get infected. My mother was the one that knew about herbal remedies for just about every condition under the sun, but I knew nothing at all. Therefore, all it was going to take was one thing to go wrong for me to be in extreme danger.
There was a small mirror inside our house, something my father had pillaged around the time I was born as a gift for her.
I looked into it, and saw that my wound was worse than I thought.
It was red and swollen, wider than I thought. It reached from my right temple to my chin, and was ragged at all the edges. Sure enough, there were plenty of pieces of glass.
I winced as I looked at it; I knew how I was going to have to get them out.
Going back outside, I grabbed a bucket from the outside of the house and walked over to the village well. I filled the bucket, and brought it back. Rummaging in the ruins of my former settlement, I found enough wood to start a fire, as well as some burnt rope and stones. Gathering my supplies a few yards away from my home, I built a circle of stones with the wood in the middle, and set fire to it with my father’s flint. I made a spit over the fire, and hung my bucket into the flames. The well water was likely contaminated with ash, possibly a few souls were thrown down into it during the massacre. It was unhealthy enough for drinking, I couldn’t imagine putting it in an open wound without sterilizing it somehow.
I walked over to the body of the old man who had died somewhat suddenly the other day, cringing at the smell that was beginning to take place. I took his robes, shaking them out. A knife fell to the ground, and I picked it up.
I went back into the house, and took my mother’s mirror, bringing it out. I needed the light of the mid-afternoon sun to see what I was doing.
Setting it next to me as I sat down near the fire, I used the knife to tear the dead man’s robe into strips, to use for cleaning my wound and bandaging it if I needed to.
Anxiety set in. I had seen my father do this to some of his fellow Vikings, using a knife to pry out foreign objects embedded in the skin… I had never done it myself, nor had I watched him perform the action in its entirety… this was going to be interesting.
Once I had the bucket of water to a boil, I took it off the fire, setting it next to myself.
Confusion set in, as always does when I panic. How long to wait for the water to cool off, how deep to put the knife when I’m trying to get the glass out, how to hold the shards without embedding them in my fingers. I just wanted to get it done, so I could figure out where to go from here…
After waiting for most of the day, I decided the water was cool enough. Dipping one of the strips of cloth into the bucket, I squeezed it out and put it on my face, cleaning the wound gently.
The heat of the water burned, and I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from yelling out in pain. I could not be weak about this, I had to be brave. Strong, just like my father had asked…
Perhaps if I made it through this alive he would be proud of me?
After I had cleaned myself up, I put the blade of the knife in the water, washing it off. Who knows where it had been, all I knew was it probably wasn’t anything I wanted in a potentially dangerous wound.
I looked in the mirror, and saw that the cut had actually gotten worse with the water. Either that, or it was already infected.
Locating a shard, I used the tip of the knife to scrape away some of the surrounding tissue. Tears formed in my eyes as I bit into my lip, trying to ignore the pain. Gently, I took the shard between my thumb and forefinger, and successfully removed it, throwing it on the ground next to me.
Over the course of the next hour, I repeated the process until I was sure every piece of glass had been removed from my wound. Unfortunately, it still seemed as if my wound was getting worse.
“Eye-Sore the dragon girl”. I muttered to myself, mocking the old man’s words. Maybe not a dragon, but definitely an eyesore.
I sighed and looked above me towards the heavens, the sky painted vibrant hues of orange and red from the sunset.
My stomach growled heavily, I hadn’t eaten in almost four days.
“So much excitement I haven’t had the time to feed myself.” I said sarcastically, although it was true. I had been busy mourning and burying my father, poking and prodding about my face with one sharp object to get the other out, the last thing on my mind was finding something to eat. However if I didn’t get something soon, I was going to be useless.
I glanced over at my father’s sword, leaning up against the house. I had never used it before, but it was worth a shot trying…after all, it was my only means of killing anything around here, save the knife from the old man’s robe… and I had found that to be quite dull.
Making a quick trip into the house to change into a fresh pair of tights and a tunic, I took a belt with me to attach the sword and the knife to. Slipping my father’s flint stone into my pocket, I journeyed into the woods to find a wild beast for supper.
The woods were unusually quiet, and I sat behind a nearby bush to watch for a deer, a quail, anything that might be edible and living in the forest. I could feel my hunger rising within me, the growling in my stomach becoming louder. Perhaps that was the reason there seemed to be no wildlife at all in the wilderness.
As I waited for my prey, my thoughts wandered to my father’s spirit as well as where my mother may be.
The Vikings had many enemies, as they were villains, of course. It was the reason why my father formed this little town off the map; on a little island as far away from any kind of other civilization he could find. All to keep safe what he and his men held most dear at the very heart of their priorities: Family.
But just because we weren’t to be found on the map doesn’t mean we didn’t exist. My father and his men could have gone pillaging the wrong people; and afterwards they followed them here, and then attacked us. Those involved with the destruction of whatever settlement they were from, as well as those who were innocent.
I wished to know where my mother was. Even if I had to be enslaved, murdered, or whatever purpose they were taking the women for, my heart longed to be by her side. I could go looking for her, but I would literally have to search the whole world, as my father never told any of us where he or his men were going when they went on voyages. Perhaps this was to protect us, or just because he didn’t feel the need to tell the rest of the village. Only now in the past few days have I realized just how much my father never told us.
I sighed heavily, and looked at the sky again. The sunset was fading, once again into dusk. My stomach growled loudly, as I began to ponder the likelihood of me getting some food.
I didn’t understand. Some of the teenaged boys from the village would venture out into the forest to get food for their mothers and brothers and sisters when the men were away, being right back with a small doe, sometimes a rabbit and a bird to boot. I’d feel compelled to be disappointed in myself if I was simply was too stupid to find and finish off an animal, but there was nothing around to even attempt killing.
The people that came for us in their revenge must have killed off all our animals, too…
I let out an irritated groan and got out from behind the bush, the sky was nearly dark. There was no time for me to head back home, so I gathered things for a makeshift camp.
Soon it was twilight, and I had made myself a small fire. The evening was unnaturally cold, and soon had me shivering by the fire, struggling to keep warm. I even contemplated doing the dangerous, and leaving the fire burning as I slept. So long as I made my bed close enough to the fire so I would be awakened the very moment something went wrong; it shouldn’t have been worrisome.
A nervous knot formed in my stomach as I created a bed from materials that the wilderness had provided- logs placed in a rectangular shape, and then leaves to separate myself from the ground- I wasn’t helping myself out much in keeping myself from burning to a crisp.
Placing my sword and my knife down next to my improvised bed, I laid down in it and waited for the slumber to take me over.

When I awoke at sunrise, the sky startled me with its unnatural hues. I had never seen anything quite like this, in all of the unique skies I had seen or been told about by my father, who had taught me about referencing the sky to learn about the coming day, what time it was, and what kind of weather was to be expected. But in all of my decade plus three years of listening to him, I had never once heard what to expect when you see a sky red as the blood he had spilled just five days beforehand.
I shook my head and picked up my weapons. Possibly I was over-thinking what was just a simple freak of nature.
I spread the leaves from my bed over the dead coals to cover it up, as well as strewing the logs I had used as a frame. “Leave everything as if you were never there”, my father would always say.
Making my way back to the village ruins, I was able to find some berries to eat. Not enough to fill me, but enough to satisfy the constant groaning within.
Perhaps now I could concentrate on what I was to do from here on out without the consistent bodily interruptions.
I was careful to follow the path I had made the evening before. I couldn’t afford to get lost; everything I needed was at the ruins.
Eventually I made it out of the forest, and upon returning, I came upon a large beast digging up my father’s grave. It didn’t notice me at first, so I studied it for a moment. It was about the size of the house I lived in, and looked like an oversized lizard only with wings…
It then dawned on me. This beast was a dragon.
I would have taken the time to stare in awe at its magnificence, but I wasn’t about to let it disturb my father’s peace.
“Get away!” I shouted, unsheathing my sword.
It stopped to look at me, and I suddenly felt somewhat insecure standing next to it. I may have been the one with the sword, but this beast was so much bigger than me and could easily swallow me whole if it so desired to.
It got closer; close enough to stare at me in the eyes. Its breath was hot, and I could feel the condensation forming on my clothes.
“Please don’t hurt me…” I prayed to myself.
“They call you Eye-Sore.” A voice between the beast and I uttered.
I stared at the beast. “You did not just talk.”
“I don’t have to.” The voice said again, “You are a dragon child.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I said, pushing the creature’s snout away from me, walking towards my father’s grave.
“They never told you?” the voice asked.
“What is there to have been told to me?” I asked, getting on my knees in front of the burial site and pushing the disturbed soil back on his resting grounds.
“That you were born not with the purpose of a human, but of a dragon.” The voice said.
I turned around to look at the beast. “I have lost everything I ever lived for. My purpose here is freeing my mother from slavery, or dying in the clutches of my enemies doing so.”
“Perhaps we share the same enemies.” The voice said.
I was silent.
“How old are you, child?” the gigantic creature asked, walking in a circle around me.
“Thirteen.”
The dragon drew a symbol in the sand, and I recognized it immediately.
My mother, who was incredibly knowledgeable with the stars, their signs, and their meanings, had shown me this one on several occasions.
The Leo astrological star sign, the one that I had been born under all those years ago. I looked up at the beast in awe. How could it have possibly known?
“You were born a warrior to the Guardian realm. The daughter of Sinakai the Viking and the maiden Rinaldi. Earth is your temporary home, you do not belong here.”
I stared at the symbol etched into the ground.
The dragon looked up to the midday sky, speaking with kindness and authority.
“Your first duty is to rescue the maiden Rinaldi, your mother. The purpose of dragons in the Guardian realm is to protect humans, so this should be a good task for you. At the stroke of midnight, you will no longer be human and you will embark on your quest.”
The dragon etched another symbol – a circle – into the ground. It became like a looking glass, I fell to my knees to have a closer look.
On the other side of the glass was my mother, in a chamber that seemed like a dungeon. Surrounded by large men armed with intimidating weaponry, throwing baskets of linens at her feet and barking orders at her.
“They’re from the kingdom of Merakken. Your father became ambitious in pillaging their beloved city. As a result and compensation for the damages him and his men imposed, they kidnapped the mothers as slaves and the village females a few years older than you as wives. The males from your village did not survive, as I’m sure you already know.”
Tears welled in my eyes as I witnessed them beat my mother when she dropped the basket after one of them deliberately tripped her.
“I’ll kill them all….” I growled through clenched teeth.
“No, child.” The creature said, “Your purpose is protection and justice, not revenge. Where there is revenge, there will always be evil, pain, and suffering. You of all people should know this.”
I took a look around my destroyed home and realized what the beast meant.
“It would be wise to get your affairs in order. We’re traveling to Merakken tomorrow morning, and you will not be coming back.”
I sighed heavily. “What do you suggest I do in the time being?”
“You need a boat, to travel with. Your father and his men had a ship, did they not?”
I turned on my feet and walked down the rocky path that lead to the beach where the ship was usually docked.
There it was in all of its glory. Slightly run down, but still the good old ship my father had lead to victory in the seas so many times.
The plank that started on the ground and then ended in the ship had been sitting in the ocean water for a week’s time. It was darkened with the contact it had made with the water, and was beginning to soften.
“Are you sure this is safe?” I asked, turning to the dragon, who had sat himself on the sand of the beach.
“I’ll catch you if you fall.”
Nodding my head, I stepped deeper into the water towards the plank. Standing in front of it was slightly intimidating. I swallowed the lump in my throat and built up the courage to walk up it.
Reaching one foot out, I rested it on the plank. It creaked a little bit, but it was firm enough for me to step on.
Slowly leaning my weight forward, both my feet eventually ended up on the plank.
I inched slowly as I started to walk up, and suddenly I heard a crack…
My eyes grew wide as I looked towards the dragon, and it lunged forward a little too late as I crashed through the board and hit the water below…
I jumped out of my bed, gasping for breath.
Clenching the bedding in my hands and looking around the room, I realized I was only dreaming.
It was about midnight, and my mouth felt dry… I must have fallen asleep with it open again.
I threw the sheets off to the side of my bed and got up, my bare feet slapping quietly against the wooden boards we had as flooring.
I went outside to the well and drew some water, splashing it on my face and cupping it in my hands, drinking the crisp and refreshing substance.
My breathing still a bit heavy, I walked back into to house.
“And what are you doing out so late, young lady?” A deep and familiar voice asked from the shadows.
It had startled me deeply, but I knew who it was. “I went to get a drink of water, father.”
Upon closing the door, I saw he was behind it, staring at a map by candlelight at the little table he liked to sit at.
“I see.”
“Nightmares…” I said quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of my nightdress.
“Are you going to be alright?”
“Yes.” I affirmed.
There was a moment of silence, as I stood and looked at my father busily marking spots on the map with his feather-pen and ink, occasionally consulting his compass for direction. The large candle flickered as the light, warm breeze blew through the windows of of the house, slightly disturbing the curtains.
I slowly walked over to my father’s table and sat across from him, looking curiously at the map.
My father was the perfect vision of a Viking. Huge, muscular and hairy, somewhat terrifying to those who didn’t know him, or those whom he’d pillaged from. But from the perspective, of someone whom he’d provided for, cared for, protected and loved, he was simply a gentle giant.
“Where are you going next?” I asked quietly.
My father grinned smiled at me and turned the map around so I could see it.
On the map, there was an X where our village was, naturally. I followed the dashes on the map, softly tracing it with my finger across the blue ocean and stopping at the second X, painted in red on a continent. My father and his men’s next target.
“Have you been there before?” I asked.
My father shook his head. “We don’t strike the same place twice unless it’s somewhat necessary, or we know it’ll be a quick transition to and out.” He said in his booming voice. “This is new territory, a world unseen and unexplored!”
I beamed along with him, as my father’s enthusiasm was incredibly contagious.
“What is this place called?” I asked.
“The kingdom of Merakken!” He exclaimed, though quietly as to not disturb my mother.
The smile left my face as I slumped back into the chair, remembering my dream…