THE MASTER by Octavio Ramos Jr.

Published in Classic Pulp Fiction Stories #78

For as long as memory serves I have dwelled with man. At first I was pursued and hunted, either as
game or as a sacred trophy won at the end of a long crusade. They came upon their mounts, covered
with metal and sporting their wicked piercing sticks, but they were no match for me. With each
successive form I embodied, I used all manner of violence against them: fire, ice, scales, the burning flesh,
and even sortilege. They left their wealth and accouterments behind for my enjoyment, and for a time I
even took the guise of a woman and partook of their flesh.

Do not misjudge me. I had grown bored. It is that simple. Indeed, I was simply bored.

Death to me had become commonplace. The gravy grew thick in my claws, the screams dampened my
senses. Life, once so precious to me, became a commodity to trade or bestow upon the pitiful. So I took
to the winds, leaving my island home, and at length came to a place where I was at last left in peace.

Oh, upon a long dark moon would come a maiden seeking council or an artist soliciting a pose for
whatever media he or she was a master, but for the most part I was allowed to be at ease with myself.
With this time my many wounds healed and even my magic returned. I grew fat with nourishment, at
length growing so massive that the cavern’s entrance became a silken prison.

Then one morning everything changed. A miracle appeared before me-a wondrous thing of beauty. And
it was disguised as a man.

At dawn the world was glistening, and having wakened from a long slumber, I poked an eye out of the
cave and gazed upon the ocean. These actions in and of themselves held no significance. What did matter
was a solitary change in the environment.

In a barren, grass-laden field stood a man. He was thin, almost gaunt, yet his frame was coated with
rippling brawn. A pair of eyes squinted at the morning sun and long tresses of black hair hung as low as
the bottom half of his back. He wore a peasant’s shirt and pants but stood as proud as a king.

Then he moved.

Amber flesh glistened as muscles tore through the thick air. He launched an arm forward, his hand balled
in a fist, the thumb tucked away. From here he withdrew, forcing the other arm to come into an arch, as
though he parried a blow. At the same time, he raised a knee, and when he was done feigning a blocking
maneuver, he thrust forward with his leg, the weight falling naturally to his remaining leg. The snapping
motion sent insects scurrying through the grass.

I could not help it. I laughed. Or rather, I roared. My noise frightened the youth, and soon afterwards he
was gone.

The scene had stirred emotions long ago suppressed. I wished to be once again among men. Harnessing
my newly awakened magic and my fat reserves. I fashioned a silken cocoon about my body. Hours later
I emerged as a human female.

The first village I came upon was fresh and exciting. Unlike the communities of my island home, this place
held no fetor or stink. Instead, traders bargained for silk, flowers, and food. Men and women bowed in
greeting, at once acknowledging each other yet averting their gazes. No one screamed here; whispers
ruled sound.

Still, there was danger here. I had not but walked one aisle, my thoughts intent on searching for new
collectibles, when two men stood in my way.

"I say she will become my concubine for a handful of gold," said the first.

"I would not make such a boast. Once she has tasted my dragon, she will offer herself without measure."

They were filthy creatures, the two that stood before me. The first, tall and muscular, wore a soldier’s
uniform. A helmet adorned a bloated crown and a beard covered a hardened face. He wore simple
armor and carried two long swords.

The second was shorter and wore the clothes of a merchant. Under his clothing, concealed in clever
folds, were several knives. This shrewdness made him all the more dangerous.

"You speak of dragons," I said after they had stopped their infernal chuckling and leering. "Have you ever
laid eyes upon one?"

"We have slain our share," responded the soldier.

"Small ones, I gather."

"Perhaps you lack the strength or will to take upon yourself the task of subduing a larger beast," the
merchant quipped. "Few can handle my dragon."

"Do not anger me, merchant. If I were not consumed by wantonness, I would slay you where you
stand."

"Perhaps both of your should slay your dragons elsewhere."

Then a third man entered the scene. He stood beside me, his warmth sending tingles through suppressed
scales. It was the young man I had watched earlier.

"Go away, boy," the soldier said, his hands falling onto his weapon.

"You dishonor the lady."

"You have been warned, child. She is ours." The merchant placed his hands on his belly.

"I warn you one last time. I am skilled with empty hands."

"A warrior," the soldier jeered. "I will show you the true hands of war."

My self-appointed protector struck first, his punch slamming into the merchant’s jaw. At the last moment,
however, the merchant stepped to one side, thus deflecting most of the blow.

Concurrently, he grabbed the young man’s outstretched forearm, clasped his wrist, and turned it
clockwise.

My protector fell to the ground, his face covered with agony. The soldier laughed, grabbed him by his
shirt, and lifted him off the ground. He then slammed his knee into the boy’s gut several times. Growing
bored, he discarded him like an empty bowl of rice.

"The war has given me hot blood," screamed the merchant.

"We shall sate ourselves with her," said the other.

"So, you take down a boy and feel you can contend with a dragon?"
"A dragon, she says."

"Enough talk, woman. Kneel and taste man!"

The soldier took one step.

My right arm went forth, seeking a path through his flesh. As my forearm turned upward, the open palm
landed under his neck, my fingers crawling over
his chin. To finish, I brought the fingers down, taking with them his eyes and nose. Bone cracked and
flesh spurt lava.

I was not content.

My left arm came around, my hand’s palm up and open. The side of my hand struck his neck, snapping
bone and destroying what resided within. The soldier fell, never to get up again.

Then came the merchant. He had drawn forth two blades and was thrusting at me. I simply whipped my
tail.

From where I stood, I sprung my right leg out and twirled my body around, forcing the leg to function as
a tail. The blow destroyed the man’s neck.

"Come," I said to the boy, who even now remained in a stupor. "Before others take notice.

"Who are you?" he mumbled.

"It does not matter. Come with me."

And he did.

For time on eternity I showed him the ways of my kind. He stood with me for ages, practicing the
walking on the winds. He learned of magic and of
healing.

I showed him the seen forms of the dragon. We began with how a dragon seeks a path, then moved on
to how a dragon avoids projectiles, tears at the flesh, uses his wings to create acrimonious winds, whips
his tail, stomps his feet, and heals mortal wounds.

He learned everything I had to offer, until there came a time when I could offer no more.

"You must leave me," I announced one cold night.

"But why? Master, I have learned so much, yet my cup is not full."

"If you seek the cup’s contents, then you shall never be full. Instead, take the cup and fill it of your own
accord."

"How do I begin?"

That is when I presented myself to the apprentice. I abandoned my disguise and brought forth the might
and power of my kind. I stood on four limbs, shook massive wings, and extended my neck. I flashed
bright scales and spewed forth flame.

Before he walked away, my apprentice dropped his head and kept his eyes focused on the earthen floor.
"Master, I have seen your true guise. I have watched your movements in the winds. And yet I have never
asked this, but I am compelled by emotion to do so now."

"Then ask, my little one."

"What is your name?"

I rose up, my wings spread and foreclaws tearing at the air. My massive head rolled out of my neck, at
length coming face to face with that of my apprentice.

"I am Kung Fu," my voice trembled to disguise the sadness. "And now you shall have a new name."

"I am honored." The young man dropped to his knees.

"You will be called Shaolin. Take all that I have given, so that men such as you can learn."

"It shall be done."

"Never forsake your brothers. Remember always the tiger, the eagle, the mantis, the monkey. All have
secrets as old as mine. Observe them and learn."

"I will remember."

And so it was that Shaolin began his journey down the path. As for me, I still live in the same cave,
although at times I can be seen riding the winds with
the ancestors of my first apprentice.

THE END
Copyright 2001 by Octavio Ramos Jr.