Legend of the Opal Dragon

About the Author

Judith Emmerson James is an artist, arts lecturer, editor and journalist. A writer since childhood, she was educated at U.S.Q. and Q.I.T. in Queensland, Australia. A child of the bush, she grew up with indigenous people, and roamed around much of Outback Australia. Having contracted Multiple Sclerosis in the 1980s, Judith was aghast at the lack of help for people with all types of disabilities in country areas. She helped form aid groups across Australia, dealt with all levels of government, written, edited and published disability newsletters and bulletins for nearly thirty years, as well as film and stage scripts, having had a play produced, with short stories and poetry published in Range Writers Anthologies.

Receiving many awards and medals for her work for so many years in the disability sector across Australia, Judith writes for Government submissions and Disability Organisation websites. She was nominated for Australian of the Year in 2012.

On her desk is a pave of purple amethyst crystals which came directly from the lost cave in the Flinders Ranges…the inspiration for her first full-length novel.

Dedication

To my wonderful family and friends who have supported me during all the exigencies, downfalls and uplifts of living with Multiple Sclerosis. Also, to the old timers in Outback pubs from whom I heard many great yarns of Aussie folklore. I salute the inspiring people of the Outback, known for their resilience and determination.

Copyright Information ©

Judith Emmerson James 2022

The right of Judith Emmerson James to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398471634 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398471641 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

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E14 5AA

Acknowledgement

Many thanks to Austin Macauley and Associate Publishers for their continued help, advice and much valued assistance. Furthermore, my thanks go to my Journalism Associates and Disability Organisations who, over the past 30 years, have long upheld my writing abilities.

Prologue

Around the vast blue of the Australian inland sea, lagoons and streams had shores of abundant warm green proliferation. Insects buzzed, small reptiles ran and fed though the wealth of palms, cycads and conifers, where reeds, sedums and mosses coated rocks, sands and banks of clay.

Along the hidden paths that ran through the densely covered shores, a great lizard paced his stately way along under the groves of pines and gingko trees, where flocks of large flightless birds gathered to feast on the cycad and gingko nuts. He ignored their strident cries, not interested in hunting for the moment as he had eaten his fill earlier from the upturned carcass of a massive horned tortoise. In life, the tortoise had roamed the forests and lagoons around the inland sea with lordly impunity, his armour-plated shell and heavily spiked tail defence from would-be predators.

Having alarmed a raft of small megapodes digging round the edges of the lagoon, where their running three-toed footprints would be imprinted in the surrounding clays to declare their existence for millennia; the great lizard turned to see another lizard of his ilk creeping forward to cast eyes at the remnants of the tortoise shell turned to the sky.

The great dragon raised his immense body of armoured shining scales to a threatening stance, balancing on his hind legs and hissing ferociously. His smaller would-be opponent seemed awed by this display to change course, disappearing quickly into the scrubby surrounds. He surprised a very tall flat-faced kangaroo-like animal, who shied away, not hopping but in a bi-pedal fashion that would also leave his footprints for posterity.

Lizard superiority having been established, the great reptile decided to move to a sheltered spot amid a stand of conifers to rest after his meal, but this effort became hotly debated by a large flock of the great flightless birds, flapping their tiny wings and stamping their horned three-toed feet, making fake rushes at his progress, rending the warm air into shreds with their shrieking calls.

It seemed to be a diversional tactic to perhaps cover up nesting areas of their huge eggs. Having no interest at the present in eggs or birds, the lizard lazily regarded this offensive behaviour with a jaundiced eye; so being an animal that preferred his own company, he turned to a different path.

Just then, the calls of the insects and birds ceased abruptly. The waters of the sea and the lagoons began to shiver, sending small waves of froth to coat the sands and rocks. Suddenly, the sands along the northern sides rippled and seismic shocks made the trees snap and sway. All life stood as though frozen in space, while underground rumblings shook and growled beneath them.

There was a hiatus for some moments until the land stood still and quiet once more and the shrill cries of the small megapodes again rent the air. The great lizard continued on his way towards the uplifting land that had folded into rocky outcrops and weird coloured strata. It had a jewel-like surface reflecting in the sun, all the micas and minerals that the seismic uplifts had shaken from beneath the ground.

None of this wonderland was of interest to the great lizard as he was intent upon some repose, until thrusting his way through the foliage with the impunity that his bulk gave his progress; his way was barred by a two-ton heavy weight that lumbered along tearing herbage with its big jaws.

It was a massive wombat-like creature, who certainly had the weight to cause the lizard some thought. The two giants stopped and surveyed each other, one immersed in the mouthful of fresh greens he wanted and the lizard wanting to pass by without trouble after his large lunch. The furred giant growled in its throat, champing its massive, stamping its inward turning feet in annoyance at being, the strong claws raking the earth into furrows.

The great lizard surveyed this colossus barring his path and though when not already fed, usually ate more medium to large size animals, birds and eggs; his serrated teeth built for quick execution. At present, he was not in the mode for a test of strength and stamina, so he hissed his displeasure, waving his armoured head from side to side, turning away to wander through new patches of scrub land that headed up a rising path towards a rock outcrop, which he used as his own domain.

In the late afternoon glare of the intense heat of the unforgiving sun, a great thunderstorm raged in fury over the blistered terrain. As lightning flashed and reverberating noise rolled over the upthrust hills around the sides of the waterways, the dragon-like creature crawled into his lair in a cleft in the cliff face and relished the dim interior of the cave in the rocky ramparts.

The beast had no eyes for his cool cave covered in walls of many thousands of minerals of every hue and formation, interspersed with florets of sparkling crystals and glittering mica amid the rocks. He clambered up on his favourite cool ledge of rock away from the heat of the entrance and settled to sleep.

A mighty earth tremor shook the dragon awake; as outside, rocks and debris hurtled down the mountain slopes.

The dragon’s cave suddenly became black as death.

Chapter One

The wild, serrated landscape of the Flinders Ranges in South Australia had always revealed its timeless landscape of tectonic activity, which pushed heights out of the area that had once been an inland sea. A feast of uranium, gold and enormous mineral deposits encrusted the undersides of cliffs and rocky ramparts, where inroads had been made by miners since the early century.

The combined native tribes that had inhabited the ranges area had lived in any number of caves during bad weather and Archaeologists had found evidence of feasting in one of the biggest caves of the area, which contained bone digging sticks and stone grinding tools for making flour from different seeds.

The Zamia palms in the closed valleys provided giant seeds, which had to be washed in running water for quite some time to leach out the toxins before being dried and ground into a paste for cooking. The biggest cave had petroglyphs incised into the rocky walls and many drawings made with charcoal, as well as red and white clay and yellow ochre.

It was the area that provided the most dateable evidence of occupation and revered by the local tribal people. Their sacred sites held stories from their dreamtime, that echoed across the ranges and their songlines held the knitted fabric of their lives.

Bon Campbell had been a prospecting drilling surveyor for a number of mining companies for many years in the desert area of south Australia. He and his trusty big drilling rig had traversed the primitive tracks and inroads of the Flinders Ranges and had come across evidence of those ancient seas left over from the millions of years of evolution.

Bon had seen the Ediacaran fossils, the oldest in the world dug from the ancient rocks. He had also seen evidence of habitation in the caves and found he had a reverence for the past lives and left everything where it had lain for millennia.

In his latest explorations, Bon had been drilling mining core samples in a remote area in the declines near Mt Painter, when upon following one of the disused mining tracks he came upon two stringy, elderly prospectors with their shaggy tan camel in tow. They were dressed in dusty overalls, check shirts and big boots, with daggy hats that seen many an Aussie summer.

Each man had a kitbag slung over a shoulder and the short stocky man was wielding a short pick on a red boulder attempting to shave off a sample. Bon got down stiffly from his rig and walked over to meet the men. He was a tall, rangy man in his forties, clad in dust and rubble all over his form, with lines of fatigue etched into his face. His work trousers and dark shirt exuded dust and sweat in even proportions.

He extended his hand and exclaimed, Great to see somebody on two legs in this lunar landscape, camel excluded! I’m Bon Campbell.

The red-haired man, with a shock of red curls and short curly red beard, came forward, put his pick and sample down, shook Bon’s hand and introduced himself.

I’m Michael Martin, commonly called Ginger for obvious reasons. This is Mungo Jack Johnson. You been in this area for long? Hadn’t seen your truck around here before.

Mungo saluted with his hat, shouting commands at the camel. The camel groaned and folded herself onto the ground like a deck chair. She groaned again mightily, as though she were being tortured but seemed content once she subsided. She blew through her nostrils at the squadrons of flies and then proceeded to chew her cud with great aplomb.

Mungo came over to shake hands with Bon and squat under the shade from trees at the side of the track, waving away the flotilla of flies that had surrounded himself and the camel.

Bon wiped his sweaty face on his old blue shirt sleeves and pushed his hat back on his head, Just about finished this tour of test drilling work, then I head back to Adelaide to deliver my core samples. Via Windani for fuel first. After about 6 weeks out here, I’m looking for a good feed at the Café and a good wash at the pub! Otherwise, my friends won’t want to know me!

Mungo laughed.

Where you been camping? You’re welcome to come back to our camp and we can show you a fine waterhole and some good outback feed. Reckon you can almost get there in the truck along this old track.

Bon looked quite surprised.

What, are you magicians pulling water out of the air?

Ginger scratched his head then said slowly, We’ve been taken to a certain waterhole by some of our local tribal friends. They have a legend about the maker of the waters called Arkaroo, who it seems, had done a great job. We just about had enough heat and dust for today, so we’ll put our gear on the camel and you can follow us along to our camp.

Mungo nodded and though the camel groaned her displeasure and showed her great yellow teeth, the men tied on their equipment and kitbags. They trudged off leading the camel, who once mobile, plodded meekly behind. Bon started his motor, following slowly behind so as not to worry the camel, but finding the going tough even for his big four-wheel outfit. After a half hour or so, the men signalled to Bon to stop where he was.

Ginger yelled, That’s as far as you can go, mate. You can make your camp here under those bull oak trees and walk the rest of the way. Not far now.

The men trudged down a narrow, hardly seen path between rocky outcrops with the towers of the hills looming over the terrain so that dark blue shadows filled the declivities. Bon had pulled over his rig, jumped down to follow the slow pace of the camel.

They all walked down a decline that had the first lush greenery for many a mile. Turning a bend, Bon was startled to see a beautiful watercourse filling the valley, which was lined with many varieties of palms, a myriad of ancient-looking cycads, plus verdant greenery, where songs of parrots filled the air.

Pretty speckled finches were drinking at the water edge and a number of furry, golden rock wallabies bounded up the steep rocky walls and when safe, stopped to eye off the strangers.

Mungo halted the camel, took off her halter and packs setting them down near a makeshift camp under some palms. He hobbled her on the sandy edge near the water, where she drank copious amounts, then munched at the plentiful green reeds. Ginger showed Bon the camp, made of two tarps slung under the palms over a couple of bedrolls and some cooking gear. He soon had a fire going with palm fronds with a billy of clear spring water over it.

Bon could not believe his eyes at the length of the deep dark blue water contained in this hidden valley.

He gestured to it and said in amazement, I thought I had explored most of this area in my work, travelling all over the old mining roads but never knew this was here, nor had I ever heard of it.

Ginger smiled.

The locals are pretty cagey just who they tell, but we have some good friends among them and have helped get some of the sick ones some help, so we hear plenty of talk-talk. Plus, we don’t offer any outside news of these things. So, it would be a good service to them if you kept this bit of heaven to yourself when you go out of here.

Bon said quietly, Right you are. I’m pretty good at staying mum as my work is private business and I would hate to see traditional places like this trashed by the great unwary. I’ve seen some hot springs in odd places round here but the water was caustic and with dead vegetation around the springs, I would hazard a guess there could be radio-active contamination in the water as well.

Mungo agreed.

I’ve found a couple of those types of soaks in some odd places, hot as hell, smelling terrible. It’s no wonder the tribal people refuse to go near those areas. In times gone past, they have said those bad waters made their people very sick.

Ginger said, None of it is surprising really when you think how close this is to where the old uranium mining went on. I often wondered if the old miners got sick in later life.

The billy boiled, tea leaves were added, plus a couple of gum tree leaves. The men decanted the brew into pannikins and sat sipping their steaming tea, the camel collapsed her legs to sit down on the sand to chew her cud, looking over the water contentedly, watching small plops making rings on the surface.

Bon was transfixed looking at the marks on the gleaming silent water, enquiring of the men about the marks.

Mungo explained, There are small turtles, small freshwater fish and plenty of spiney crays, which we can have as a meal now and then. We hang a cray bag in a sheltered place with a bit of bone in it and the crays can’t get enough, scramble into the bag and they make great eating. There are also fresh-water mussel middens round the sands here where the tribal people used to feast on those, but they’re not my best tucker—tough as boot leather!

Bon looked pleased and said quietly, Thanks for your hospitality—all I need now is a wash and I’d be fit to come for a meal.

Ginger laughed, dumped his pannikin and wrenching off his clothes and boots shouted, Last man in does the washing up!

The others followed suit and ran splashing into the water, yelping at the cold after the heat they had endured during the day. Bon swam gently through the clear water, watching the small fish darting about his feet, lying on his back, gazing at the walls of the rocky mountain surrounding the deep valley. The edges of the mountain were clad in late afternoon sunshine, glowing red, orange and yellow with dark blue shadows. The crest of Mt Painter loomed on the ridge and its interesting profile beckoned Bon to further investigation.

The other men were out and dressed, coming along the edge of the waterhole dragging a wet hessian bag behind them when Bon got back to camp. The bag was bulging with hidden movement. Mungo dropped the bag near the fire and turned the contents onto a piece of palm leaf. It was crawling with good sized, very spiney crays, which were dropped into a large pot of boiling water.

In a few moments, the crays were tipped out and a tin of salt produced. The men sat eating the fresh food with relish, along with damper from the camp oven, which had been toasted on the coals of the fire.

Bon was pleased with the change of food, plus the company; so the men sat for some time, discussing the area and the type of minerals found, as well as the old uranium deposits that had been mined around Mt Painter in the early part of the century.

Ginger waved his hands in the air expansively.

A big area of the Mt Painter and Mt Gee was open to copper mining, starting around the late 1800’s. Then Douglas Mawson found samples of torbernite, a uranium phosphate mineral from an area they called Radium Ridge.

Bon nodded.

I’ve seen plenty of the remnants of old mines in strange places when on my surveys, but they seem to be so decrepit from so long ago.

Mungo added, I think the Mawson samples were found around 1910 and that made exploration a must during the first world war. But they were not big deposits and were quickly worked out.

Bon thought for a while.

Over my various forays into this whole area, I found so much of interest, outside my actual work and yet there is always something wonderful to turn up in the most amazing sites. Like the time I saw my first Ediacaran fossils when I stopped near a rock wall for some food. My eyes nearly fell out of my head when I pushed away dirt and dust and there were these elegant fossils, dating from around 500 million or more years ago! Curious early life forms, leaf shapes, amoebas, skeleton of perhaps first fish and round curls of shapes unknown to us.

Mungo and Ginger both laughed. Mungo nodded.

Know what you mean! The best thing for me is that being a blood brother of one of the local tribes, I understand how come they have such great stories to explain these happenings. I’ve been privileged to have been shown a cave where ancient fires had been lit and the remnants of Gerynormis, the huge Pleistocene bird and its eggs could be seen half burnt.

Ginger added his variety of geological explorations.

I was delving into a likely-looking place to take samples, when I saw as indented arches across a rock face the stromatolite fossils believed to have formed from bacteria present during the Cryogenian era, around 50 to 70 million years earlier than the Ediacaran fossils. The Adelaide Museum geologists were up here quicker than fleas on a dog!

Mungo added, We can never reject any ideas what we might find as new areas get uncovered all the time.

Bon mused, Because the Norwest and Paralana fault have caused many folds during seismic activity, so anything can happen round here and often does. No one could know what will be opened up next.

Ginger remarked quietly, Only thing we never found were diamonds, which were supposedly found here. Mungo found a piece of blue corundum, which might polish into a rare sapphire but he refuses to sell it!

Bon was amazed. He said, Wow! That’s a new one on me! I was test drilling further north in a flat area and brought up two tiny macro-diamonds—only two and the core samples don’t belong to me, only to our scientists and they disregarded them.

As the night closed in with the first stars coming to light the purple and indigo sky, Bon started to yawn.

Many thanks for everything. I’m clapped out after a big day’s work. I’ll bring breakfast over in the morning as I have some decent tins of stew you might like to go with the damper. This area has boggled my mind. I was looking at the ridge of Mt Painter and thought I would like a look up there tomorrow. Should be able to see forever.

Ginger looked at his mate, who nodded.

We can show you a way to get up the ridge, which is not as tough as some other directions. We got plenty of time and a morning off is always welcome.

Bon considered for a moment.

That’d be great. I have to change my surveys to a new site shortly, but a day off is good news.

He shook hands with both men and wandered off into the starlit night to his own very dry camp. He rolled out his swag in the sand and lay pondering the mystery of the long waterhole from a geological point of view. He listened to the flying foxes flapping round the fruit in the palms and the lonely call of a dingo echoing somewhere in the mountains.

Chapter Two

In the fresh morning air, before the sun had reached the deep valley, Bon rolled up his swag, tossing it into his rig, fossicked through his food boxes and found a couple of tins of stew. He laced up heavy boots, donned his wide hat, stuck two water canteens in his backpack and trudged off to meet Ginger and Mungo for breakfast. As he rounded the rocks into the valley, he let out a long ‘coo-ee’.

There was an answering coo-ee, so Bon continued down the track until he could see the water of the hidden valley shimmering in the morning breeze. Ginger saw him coming in from the dusty track, sang out a greeting and Bon handed him the stew tins to put next to the fire. Ginger stabbed a couple of steam holes and left them to heat in the coals. Mungo came up from the water, where he had been having a wash in a basin and shook the drops off his head in a fine spray.

Gooday, Bon. Ready for a decent trek up the mountains this morning? How’re your leg muscles, good and strong I hope?

Bon laughed.

Think my legs are pretty good for going up those heights but dunno about coming down. Murder on the calves! Reckon it will get hot after a while, so I’ll fill my canteens before we get going.

The other men nodded and they sat around the fire as Mungo opened the tins and decanted them into a billy, where they could help themselves eating while the water for tea boiled. Ginger had made a fresh damper in his camp oven on coals he had raked out to the side, plus he had a ring of coals smoking on its lid.

The smell of baking bread combined with campfire smoke was a great whet to appetites. The oven was removed and the aroma of baking bread filled the air. Ginger placed it on a metal plate and tore it apart so they could add it to their stew. The billy was boiled and decanted and they all sipped their tea with satisfaction.

Bon wiped his mouth, saying, Many thanks for a good breakfast. Fresh damper is such a boon! I’d just about run out of flour in my stores and couldn’t make any more. Been living on dry biscuits this last week. It’ll be good to get into Windi to restock.

He shaded his eyes and gazed up at the ridges before them.

I’m looking at the heights we’ll be scaling. Bit of a task ahead of us. When do you want to get going?

Mungo looked at the sun appearing over the mountains and thought for a moment.

We’ll pack a bit of damper and syrup, in case we’re not back by lunch and Ginge has some dates there. Give us ten minutes or so.

Bon said, I think I also have dried fruit left in my tuckerbox, so I’ll bring them too. Back shortly.

He helped place sand over the fire, took his empty tins with him and walked back up the track with light heart, thinking of the day off with companionship and new exploration.

As the sun rose higher, the hills had changing colours turning to ochres, tans and browns, small scrubby areas looking like badly shaven beard, with indigo shadows reflecting in the water. The three men started round the northern side of the waterhole and made their way up a declivity that would take them higher and across some rounded peaks, without having to scale the rocky ridges running down towards the waterhole.

As they ascended the terrain became more rugged and made it hard climbing, so they stopped now and then for a drink and a few dried fruits. The scenery from the ridges looked westward across rows of hidden valleys, some with evidence of tiny water courses with trees and green reeds around sandy beaches.

There places were full of corellas, calling their weird wavering cries, flashing white in their aerial sorties in the early sun. There were also great flocks of swooping green and gold budgerigars, shrilling at the top of their songs before flowing down to drink. There were fluffy yellow-footed rock wallabies combing their fur, but shy, retiring up inaccessible slopes when the men came into view.

Bon was awestruck.

Wow, fellas! I have never been in this part at all and though it’s a good climb, what a sight!

He shaded his eyes and gaze in all directions, turning right around, looking over the vast expanse of the old inland sea. The foothills and lower peaks of the ranges under his feet were speckled with scrubby patches of spinifex running down inclines of red rocky areas. Patches of white gum trees lined declines and gidgee and flowering shrubs showed up lining other areas.

He could see way beneath him an old road that led to two clapped-out uranium mines. The curvature of the earth could be seen against the almost flat undulating western skyline and Mungo and Ginger, sitting on the ground, watched him with interest.

Bon waved his arms to encompass the wide earth before him.

Should’ve brought my binoculars. No brains! I could see forever!

Mungo went over to his