by S. E. Smith
Stumbling to the side, he watched a symbiot – barely half the size of his – trot past him to the old warrior. After several minutes, curiosity overcame his need for peace, and he slowly walked forward to stand next to the warrior. The old warrior glanced at him before he returned his attention to the pole he held.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to come over here,” the man said in a quiet voice.
“I… Do I know you?” Brogan asked with a frown.
The grizzled old man chuckled. “No. My symbiot told me you were here. It would appear your symbiot told mine that you needed someone to talk to,” he said, looking over at his symbiot where it was trying to play with the other one.
“I don’t need anyone to talk to,” Brogan growled.
“Very well,” the old warrior replied with a shrug.
“Grandpa Christoff,” a young girl called.
Brogan turned at the sound of the girl’s hesitant voice. He watched in stunned disbelief as she walked precariously across the rocks, her prosthetic limb causing her gait to be uneven. She stumbled and he started to take a step forward, but the old warrior’s hand shot out and stopped him.
“Let her do this,” he said before turning his attention to the girl.
Brogan realized that the girl was older than he had originally thought. She eyed him with a suspicious scowl and lifted her chin in defiance before she stopped several feet away. Brogan’s lips twitched when she rolled her eyes at him and shrugged, as if dismissing him.
“Grandma asked me to tell you that dinner is almost ready,” the girl said.
“Thank you, Crystal. I will be there shortly,” Christoff replied with a gentle smile.
“’K, I’ll wait for you to make sure that you aren’t late,” she warned, turning and slowly retracing her steps.
“What happened to her?” Brogan asked, unable to stop himself.
A sad look came into Christoff’s eyes. “Too much for one so young,” he said, turning his gaze to Brogan. “Would you join us for dinner?”
“Thank you, but no. I must return,” Brogan said with a hint of unexpected regret.
Christoff looked out over the river. Brogan stood next to him, finding peace in the sound of the wind in the trees and the rushing of the water. Neither man spoke for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.
“Our lives are like the river,” Christoff finally said, surprising him.
Brogan frowned and looked over at Christoff. “How so?” he asked.
Christoff smiled. “If our lives were straight and calm, they would be boring and not worth living. We are confined by the banks, but at times overflow them to see if there is another path that we can follow. Sometimes there is, but most of the time there is not, and we return to the path cut centuries before us to follow after our ancestors. As we wind through life, we try to find a way to understand the larger purpose of our existence. For a dragon warrior, finding our true mate is like discovering that all the mountains, rocks, and trees thrown in our path to stop us only make us stronger.”
“What if we are not strong, but defective in some way? What if… what if we are destined to lose our way – or worse, that we are not good enough for our true mate?” Brogan asked in a quiet voice.
Christoff shook his head. “Even the strongest dam has a weakness and must give way to the river if it rises high enough. A river will always find a way. And love, just like a river, will overflow to heal even the most wounded warrior no matter how much we resist,” he said before he bent over and picked up the basket of fish. “If you change your mind, my cottage is on the other side of the forest. If you follow the path you can’t miss it. I think Crystal might enjoy a ride home. May the Goddess be with you, warrior.”
Brogan watched as the old warrior walked over to the young girl where she stood stroking Christoff’s symbiot. His eyes widened when Christoff said something that made the girl’s eyes light up and chased the shadows away. She flashed him one last defiant glare before she turned her back to him. He didn’t understand why until Christoff shifted.
Brogan knew he was staring at Christoff’s small deformed wings, but he couldn’t look away. The old dragon turned and winked at him before he knelt down so Crystal could climb on his back, then Christoff’s symbiot rose up, shifting in the air to reform around the old dragon’s misshapen wings.
Gripping the basket of fish with its front claw, the old dragon took several steps before the golden wings lifted the dragon off the ground as easily as if the wings were real. Brogan ducked when the dragon playfully dived down toward him. Crystal giggled and wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck.
Brogan swallowed when his symbiot nudged his arm. Reaching down, he stroked his constant companion. Inside, he could feel his dragon sigh.
We broken too, his dragon mourned, growing very, very quiet inside him.
Brogan watched as the old dragon carrying the young girl flew over the treetops. The soft sound of laughter carried on the wind. He thought of the old dragon’s words, and turned to look downstream. Boulders and debris had been washed down after the last heavy rain. Watermarks along the trees and banks showed how high the river had reached at one point during the spring rains, yet through it all, the water had forged a path that continued to flow no matter how many things tried to impede its journey.
That beautiful, surly youngling had stubbornly made her way through the forest to tell the old dragon that dinner was ready, despite how difficult it must have been, and Brogan knew the old dragon would have been shunned because of his deformity, yet he still had found a true mate – and a family who loved him. He had also found a way to overcome his handicap.
We have always overcome our obstacles too. We forged a path to make it work. This will be the most important challenge of our lives, and maybe we are broken, but we are not without our strengths, too. Pearl was onto something with her Unbreakable Rule. No matter what happens, I know we can love her – like there is no tomorrow. The path to receive her love in return will become clear if we just keep in mind that she comes first, he told his dragon as the pieces came together in his mind.
“Let’s find Barrack. We have a true mate to find,” he said, calling forth his dragon.
He lifted off the ground, his symbiot flowing around the form of his dragon. In the distance, over the treetops, he could see the faint spiral of smoke from a chimney. He would have to remember this place. When he and Barrack returned with their mate, he would like to visit the old dragon again – and thank him for his wise words.
Chapter Five
Earth – Paul’s Ranch, Wyoming:
Four months later...
“I can’t believe that you misplaced them! How in the hell can you lose twin dragons?” Jaguin growled, glaring at Adalard as they stood on the platform to beam down to the planet.
“Jaguin,” Sara cautioned, reaching out to touch his arm.
“I’m not a … What was the word Pearl used, Sara?” Adalard asked with a shrug.
“A babysitter,” Sara murmured.
“Yes, a babysitter. They are grown warriors. When I searched for them, they were gone. I had no idea they would use their symbiots to leave the ship before we all transported down. I don’t know why you are surprised. It was obvious they were growing edgier the closer we got to this planet. I’m surprised they made it as long as they did,” Adalard added with a pointed look.
“We should have locked them up. If they expose the fact that humans aren’t alone, it could endanger future visits here,” Jaguin reflected with a shake of his head.
“I’m sure everything will be alright,” Sara said. “Barrack and Brogan both know that they can’t be seen. You and Adalard drilled that into their heads on the way here,” she gently reminded Jaguin, stepping up onto the platform next to him when the technician motioned for them to proceed.
Jaguin turned to lock eyes with his mate as they dematerialized. Within seconds, the brief disorientation of appearing in a new environment f
ogged his mind. It didn’t take long to clear. He realized that his head was still turned toward Sara. He could see the look of worry in her eyes before she swayed. He quickly reached out and wrapped his arms around her to steady her.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” she moaned, raising a trembling hand to her forehead.
“I prefer a transport myself,” Jaguin chuckled, holding her tightly to his body until she pulled away.
“Oh!”
They all turned when they heard the exclamation. Standing in the doorway was a young woman. Her eyes immediately moved to Adalard. Her face paled, and she swayed before her lips tightened.
“Mason! Your house is infested with aliens again,” the woman called before she looked at Jaguin and Sara. “Well, at least with two. I think you’ll only need to exterminate one of them, though,” she added, looking pointedly at Adalard.
“Samara,” Adalard warned, taking a step toward her.
“Who is it this time?” Mason, Paul Grove’s ranch manager, asked, stepping up behind Samara.
“Don’t ask me. I prefer to keep my distance from the lot of them,” Samara retorted, turning on her heel. “I’ve got horses to bring in. Let me know when they are gone.”
“Samara,” Adalard growled, taking a step to follow the young woman.
Jaguin smiled at Sara’s smothered laugh when Samara raised her right hand and lifted her middle finger at Adalard. He now understood Adalard’s distraction. He had noticed a growing restlessness in Adalard the closer they got to Earth. In all honesty, he was beginning to think that Adalard was as bad as the twins.
“So, I recognize two of you – you’re Jaguin, correct?” Mason said.
“Yes. This is my mate, Sara Wilson,” Jaguin replied.
“Ah, the mysterious Sara Wilson,” Mason murmured as he deliberately ignored Adalard. A wry smile curved Adalard’s lips as Sara asked “You’ve heard of me?”
Mason nodded. “About a month ago this young woman, Delilah, shows up. She had a picture of you and was asking all kinds of questions. She was really vague about how she knew to look here. She said something about the University, a place in Columbia, and some guy named Cuello,” he said.
Sara harshly inhaled a breath and her face paled. Mason stepped forward in concern, but Jaguin had already wrapped his arm around her waist.
“I’m alright,” she murmured, looking down and shaking her head. She started trembling as she fought for composure before she looked up again.
“What did you tell her?” Adalard asked.
Mason glanced at him with an angry frown, but when he spoke his voice was modulated to soothe Sara. “I told her that we didn’t know Sara Wilson, but if we heard anything we’d give her a call. She left her phone number and address. I gave the information to the two guys who came here earlier this morning. They said they knew you and that they were looking for a woman named Delilah. I figured there must have been some connection and honestly, I wasn’t about to argue with them or those gold creatures you guys have with you,” he stated.
Adalard nodded and turned to Jaguin and Sara. “So, what should we do now?” he asked.
“We have to go after them,” Jaguin replied.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be in too big a hurry,” Mason warned. “The East Coast is about to get slammed with a Nor’easter that they are calling the new hundred year storm. They are expecting up to fifty inches of snow in some parts with temperatures dropping well below freezing and winds in excess of one hundred miles an hour. We’ve got our own storm heading this way. It is supposed to hit this afternoon. We’ve been rounding up all the horses and trying to get the place ready to be snowed in for up to a week or more,” Mason warned.
“Did Barrack and Brogan know about this?” Jaguin asked.
Mason nodded. “I told them, but they didn’t care. I’m guessing maybe you aliens can handle this kind of extreme weather better than we can. Whether you can or not, they are still in for a rough journey,” he said before his expression changed. “I’ll have to admit, I’m glad you are here. We could use some extra help. We only have a skeleton crew on the ranch, at the moment. The few hands we have are working our Northwest range. That is where most of the cattle are, but that still leaves this section. With the weather, I can’t safely take the helicopter up. There is only Samara, Ann Marie, and me to handle things. We’ve got more than five thousand head of livestock that will need to be taken care of. We’ve already moved them to more sheltered pastures, but they’ll have to be fed,” Mason said, shoving his hands in his front pockets.
Adalard answered before Jaguin or Sara could.
“We will stay.” He tried to say it normally and not crow with satisfaction. At Jaguin and Sara’s surprised expressions, he said, “They know not to be seen and if Delilah would probably appreciate having some assistance during such a storm.”
“Thank you. Whatever you do, though, just make sure that you stay away from Samara,” Mason ordered. “I’ll let Ann Marie know.”
Adalard didn’t answer. He would help, but he would also use the storm to show Samara that he wasn’t the man she thought he was or anything like her brothers. He had promised Paul and Samara that he would give her time. That time was now up.
Chapter Six
Near Saddle Mountain, North Carolina:
“Move it, Rum. Damn it! Why is it every time I go to the grocery store you think helping me unload the car means getting under my feet? Moonshine, get your nose out of that bag, it isn’t for you,” Delilah growled in annoyance.
She placed the heaviest bags on the floor in the kitchen before turning to head back out to the truck. She was running behind thanks to the two black and tan clowns who thought playing in the snow was more fun than stockpiling supplies to weather the storm of the century. If she had been smart, she would have stayed at the house in town. The problem was that the old furnace there had decided to die in the middle of the night. The repair man had told her that it was beyond help and needed to be replaced, and that wouldn’t happen until at least a week after the storm passed because he was backed up.
Left with nothing but a small pellet stove in the living room, she wasn’t about to try to weather the storm there. She had two options: she could either go to the local school, which was open as an emergency shelter and wouldn’t let her bring the dogs, or come up to a perfectly good house and have the entire mountain to herself.
She had plenty of propane for the gas fireplaces, emergency lights, a new roof, and insulated windows. She could spend the time working on some of the last-minute projects that she hadn’t had time to finish.
The dogs pushed past her, out the back door of the kitchen, and tripped over each other as they both tried to fit through the mudroom door at the same time. How two huge dogs could be so clumsy was beyond her. She suspected the reason their previous owner had given her the last two pups was because he had dropped them on their heads, not because he was moving.
She reached up and pulled her cap down over her ears. The temperature was beginning to rapidly drop, and the wind was picking up. She pulled the doors shut behind her so the house could heat up. Her thick boots crunched against the newly fallen snow. She tried to walk in the footsteps she had made coming into the house.
Pulling open the driver’s side door of the truck, she slid in. Turning the key, she started the ignition, thankful the engine hadn’t cooled down completely and there was still some heat coming out of the vents. She looked around to make sure the two dogs weren’t standing near the truck before she shifted into reverse and backed the truck into the renovated Model-T shed.
Shifting back into park, she turned off the ignition and climbed out of the truck. Snow was beginning to fall in thick flakes outside the door. Delilah started forward before she remembered the snow shovel.
Grabbing it off the hook, she heard the dogs frantically barking. She hoped they hadn’t found some poor rabbit searching for a last-minute meal before the storm. She jumped when the wind
suddenly caught one of the shed’s doors and slammed it shut. In the space of a few minutes, the scene outside had changed from beautiful fat flakes to a full-blown blizzard. She was barely able to see the house from a hundred feet away.
She grabbed the rope hanging from another hook and stepped outside. She quickly closed the doors to the shed and slid the board across to secure them against blowing open. Tying one end of the rope to the eye-hook screwed into the corner of the shed, she turned and began wading through the snow back toward the house. She held the rope in one hand, slowly releasing it while she used the shovel to keep herself from falling.
“Moonshine! Rum! Come on, boys. Time to go inside,” she yelled above the wind. “I hope to hell you two did your business while you were out,” she muttered, nearly breathless by the time she reached the house.
She propped the shovel up against the wall of the mudroom and tied the other end of the rope to the eye hook near the door. Testing it, she grunted in satisfaction. This way if she needed anything in the shed or needed to take the dogs out on their leashes during the storm, she could hold onto the rope. She’d heard one too many horror stories about people losing their way in a blizzard only to be found just feet from their door after the thaw.
She scanned the yard for the dogs. She couldn’t see anything but white. With a grimace, she pulled off her glove and raised her quickly freezing fingers to her mouth. She released a loud, piercing whistle that was lost in the howl of the wind. Still, she could hear the muted sounds of the dogs barking.
Delilah rolled her eyes when she realized that the sound was coming from inside the house. The dogs must have finally figured out how to use the doggie door that she had installed. She didn’t remember unlocking it, but with everything else going on, that wasn’t surprising.