by Laura Wylde
“You know we can’t do that,” I said, righting the tanks in the dolly and strapping them in. “It remains with a neutral party until one of the rightful gods claim it.”
“None of the gods are around.”
“There are the prophecies of the Eurynome.”
Kauris helped finish loading the cylinders. He was silent as we pushed down the pier, the slats underneath clacking and bumping against the wheels. We put them in the back of a rusted-out pickup truck kept at the docks for AMP cargo transport and climbed into the cab. Kauris drove. As he turned the key and listened to the engine cough and fire up, he turned to me. “Like I said. It’s fifty-fifty.”
“And Macy?” I asked softly. “What do you think about Macy.”
He looked straight ahead and drove as though if he took his hands off the steering wheel, we’d both die. “It would have been nice if the Director would have given her gills.”
“That’s tampering with the design.”
“Ah, well. You asked.” He swallowed hard as though his next words were difficult to form. “I think we need her. Not just for the mission. For us. She’s good for us.”
“Will she stay with us?”
He shrugged. “She’s a woman. Don’t ever try to predict a woman.”
I took that as another fifty-fifty. I wished I could be like Kauris, always hanging in the balance, ready to accept his losses and move on. I couldn’t. The very thought of losing Macy for any reason turned my knees to jelly. “We should go to a seer.”
He rolled into the gravel parking lot for filling the tanks. “No, we should not. If we lose Macy, it’s our own fuck-up. We play it by human rules, David. We bring her flowers and candy. We never forget her birthday or the date we first met. Once a week, we take her out on the town.”
“All of that?”
“Women require a lot of care.”
I had never really had to take care of anyone before. My whole adult life had been was as a mediator for the quarrels between the ocean dwellers and the oblivious land folk. Sometimes, we made rescues. Sometimes, we battled, although when the poison league comes around, the weak scatter.
It bothered me to be called the poison league. It gives us a nasty reputation. It’s no wonder girls are leery of us, but we are healers, as well. The people we heal are grateful. They even throw parties for us, but they are always relieved when they are no longer in our care. Healing someone and taking care of them are two different things. “I can do it,” I said firmly.
He slapped my shoulder. “Sure, you can. We’ll all take turns. She’ll never have time for anyone else.”
Like I said, Kauris was the best person to have around when I’m trying to sort things out. By the time Reuben returned with supplies, we had the tanks filled, the gasoline stocked and the boat ready to go. We went back to our apartments long enough to pack our bags and spend one last night in our comfortable beds. We didn’t know how long we would be on our search or how far it would take us.
7
Kauris
I don’t think anyone slept much that night. I didn’t. My thoughts were racing ahead, trying to imagine where our journey would take us. Every night sound woke me. Every other hour, I stared out the window, waiting for daylight to show. As soon as it did, I was up. When I went out to the kitchen, I saw, so were the others. We had been restless. We put on our clothes without speaking, picked up our bags and went out to the boat. It was rocking gently against its moorings, waiting for us.
Reuben says the boat has a life of its own. There are times I believe it. It’s fussy. The engines won’t turn over smooth and purring without Reuben’s encouraging hands. It never takes on too much water. Whether it’s the boat’s build or Reuben’s sure navigation, its bow triumphantly raises out of the water in the fiercest gale. Today, it seemed as eager to see us as we were to board. It fired up and roared out to sea with a single turn of the switch. Rueben throttled down when we reached an area known for dolphin sightings. The engines grumbled and slowed. “Okay, Miss Biologist, it’s your call.”
The Dragon Queen murmured softly as though to say, don’t worry. I won’t leave you. The surface of the water rippled undisturbed. Macy bent over the guardrails. “I don’t see anything. Maybe we should bribe them.”
“If we throw out fish, we could get sharks,” I reminded her.
She gave that mysterious smile that never tells you exactly how she feels. “Not fish. We play.”
Of all the things to bring with her, she had carried along several brightly colored rubber balls. She stripped down to her bikini, climbed over the side of the boat, and dived into the water. “Throw me a ball,” she yelled.
I threw one over the side. She caught it and tossed it back. Caught up in the spirit of play, Kazan threw another one. It flew into the water just ahead of my next throw. Her laughter echoed as she chased the balls, trying to throw them back as quickly as we tossed them.
We were having so much fun, we didn’t even see the first dolphin appear until it bumped a ball from Macy’s hands. She gasped at first, then seeing what it was, made a dash for the toy. The dolphin got to it first and bounced it into the boat. I tossed it back. It must have been a hundred years since the last time I played. I don’t know why I gave it up.
The dolphins packed around the boat. There were around half-a-dozen. They tossed the balls between themselves, nosed them into the air to land on the deck and mischievously stole from Macy. We spent the better part of the day in the dolphins’ inventive game of combined dodge ball and keep-away. We were exhausted with laughing.
I understood a little now, why the world of animals was so attractive to Macy. Animals played as children play, freely without structure, and this free play appealed to the childlike nature of Macy. Glistening dark eyes, may they never cease to be filled with wonder. The laughter, so foreign in my throat, spilled out in irresistible glee. The exuberance left slowly. We surrendered ourselves with reluctance to the serious nature of our animal visit.
Macy clacked at the dolphins and they clacked back. They engaged her in a serious conversation that last a good twenty minutes. When she returned to the boat and climbed up on deck, she said first, “they would like some fish, please.”
I checked our holding tank. There were some live fish squirming around, ready to be used as bait or eaten for dinner. I filled a couple buckets of small fish and threw them over the side. They chattered their thanks but continued to remain close to the boat. She leaned against the rails, dazzling in her golden, sun-speckled body, water dripping off it slowly. “They were hungry and tell us we have a long way to go.”
“We?” Asked David, suspiciously.
She nodded. “They are guiding us. They say you have to be in exactly the right spot at the right time to get through the gate.”
David looked uneasily at Reuben, who pulled his shoulders up to his neck and spread his hands, and then to me. “Gate?”
“Dolphin talk,” I suggested. “A gate could mean any type of opening.”
He rumbled some more and scratched his chin. No matter how closely he shaved, he always had an afternoon shadow. “Did they say anything about where they are going?”
She accepted the water bottle Kazan handed her and took a long swallow. “No. Only that it was dangerous, and you would never find your way without them.”
David watched the dolphins circling around, chattering at each other, delighted with the two balls we had left them as a gift. “Lower the nets, mates. We’d better fill up the holding tank, so the dolphins don’t get hungry on our journey.”
The hold was stocked by evening. The dolphins had played, foraged, and visited other pods, yet never strayed far from us. We turned on the headlamps, started the engines and followed the dolphins out into the moonlit ribbons floating over a black sea.
For three days we followed them in a journey that took us south and far away from the Aegean Sea, toward the hot Sahara winds shimmering with dust and the African Coast. When we could see a th
in slice of land waving in the distance, the dolphins veered away into the wide ocean. I approached David anxiously. In our human state, the heat was unbearable. The one time we changed into dragon form to chill in the water, the dolphins had chattered furiously at Macy. “They said not to show yourselves,” she translated. “They said there are spies everywhere.”
So, we remained in human form. To any pair of eyes, we were a fishing vessel wandering more deeply into ocean water than we should be going. We appeared lost or delusional. It felt like both. I began to grow uneasy. I’ve been on ocean liners crossing the great expanse between continents and I’ve crossed the ocean by air, but as five humans on a vessel not much bigger than a skiff, I felt puny. I cornered David and asked, “Just how sea-worthy is our boat?”
David was bent over the rack that held our gasoline containers. He picked up one, testing its weight, then set it in front of the full ones. “Reuben says she’s got a heart. We’ve got to trust them, Kauris. We’ve got to trust everyone. Reuben. Our boat. Macy. The dolphins. Hell, we’ve even got to trust Kazan.”
“Now, that’s hard,” I snickered. Kazan would give his heart and soul for the team – but he was still a boy. He would have to grow up quickly over the next few days. “I suppose, if we got lost – as dragons, we could always make it back.”
“It would kill Reuben to lose the boat.”
“I’m sure we’d figure out a way to bring it back with us.”
The boat chugged and we sizzled within the equatorial zone. The blazing sun streaked over the ocean and flattened out in a steamy haze. It dropped angrily, pulling down a purple sky. The stars came out, so brilliant and close, it seemed you could gather them up and tuck them away for luck. The moon rose, so full and heavy, it could barely climb into the sky.
Under the moonlight, I saw the most incredible sight. Hundreds of dolphins were following us, leaping through the ocean. They weren’t just gray and white dolphins, but dolphins with shiny black backs and blue bellies, dolphins cresting red and pink and dolphins with rainbow stripes like trout. I had never seen so many nor had known they could be so colorful. “Where did they all come from?” I wondered.
Macy stood next to me; a shawl wrapped around her to protect her from the evening breeze. “From everywhere,” she whispered in an awed voice. “From all possible worlds.”
“They told you that?”
She said nothing but watched in the direction they were swimming. They were flowing directly into the white path spread out by the moon. Our boat followed, the engines humming away trustingly. There was a feeling that we were passing through a thin barrier that yielded on either side then closed again behind us.
The ocean changed almost imperceptibly. It was darker, the waves choppier. As we continued sailing, we began noticing glowing orange objects floating under the surface. Occasionally, one burped, sending up a flurry of pink bubbles. Ferns fanned out, floating without roots and water lilies clustered together. Sharp rocks poked their heads up, and cliffs began rearing on all sides. Reuben cut the engines even lower, his hands tight over the pilot wheel as he steered between the deadly rock cropping.
We entered a watery enclosure with the cliffs erupting in a solid wall all around us except for one harrowing opening dead ahead. The dolphins chattered at Macy and she waved to them, blowing them kisses. They sprayed watery kisses back. “What did they say?” Asked David.
She looked at the fearful opening between the cliffs. “They said this is as far as they go. What lies ahead isn’t meant for them. They wished us luck.”
“We go through there?”
She nodded. “it’s the gate.”
The passage between the cliffs was unnerving. The walls reached so high, they blackened out all light. Even our lamplights were swallowed by the darkness, leaving only a pitiful puddle to show the way ahead. Death lurked here. Its smell was acrid in the evening air. It touched with clammy, invisible fingers. It wafted by, thick and solemn. The boat motors sobbed, reluctant to travel on.
From out of the blackness something moved high up on the cliffs. I caught only a flicker and glanced swiftly at David. “Cut the engines,” he ordered. “Unleash the tow cable. We’re pulling her through.”
Reuben did as he was ordered. Shutting down the engines, he unlocked the cable spool. Jumping over the side of the boat, he billowed out swiftly into a dragon and grabbed the loose end of the cable. I followed him, wrapping my chubby, suction-cup toes around the metal wrap, clinging to it easily. Reuben followed, leaving Kazan to man the wheel. Macy stood beside the boy, her face pale, her lips pressed tightly together.
It was no place for a woman. It was no place for anyone. It breathed in malicious darkness, it loomed relentlessly over us. A dim light showed through the massive walls. We flew toward it in a burst of relief. The light grew stronger, the opening wider. We raced, hearts pumping. Something moved. It pulled away from the cliff face and stood directly in our path, blocking the way. I reared back, startled, losing my grip on the cable.
Reuben and David didn’t fare much better. David screeched involuntarily and flew straight up, his feet stretched in front of him. Reuben veered to the side, nearly crashing into the cliff walls, and wheeled dizzily before righting himself. The cliffs shook, the air thundered with anger. I saw an enormous foot stomp down, blocking the ocean passage. A violent roll from the ocean crashed and fell against the massive leg. Somebody cried out – it could have been me – it could have been David, “It’s a Gigantic!”
He was in full view now, the light we longed for so much, behind him. He stood over forty feet tall and grinned with malevolent delight when he saw us. He reached for us and we flew away like birds escaping the hands of a human. He frowned and stamped his foot. A tidal wave frothed from the ocean’s depths and thundered toward the Dragon Queen. Macy screamed and held tight to Kazan, who tightly gripped the pilot’s wheel.
Her cries attracted the attention of the Gigantic. He bent down and peered inside the boat. When he saw Macy, his grin grew wider. He reached down to play with this new toy. Macy screamed again, burying her face against Kazan’s chest. He was trying to be brave but the look he had on his face was one of pure terror.
The Gigantic was slow in his movements. As enormous as he was, as deadly as he was, we buzzed around him like gnats. We were five times his speed. His hand reached down with agonizing slowness; fingers outstretched to pluck his victims from the pilot’s cabin. I slithered through the water and attached myself to his ankle. I sunk my teeth in as deeply as I could, releasing every bit of my venom.
The Gigantic howled and lifted his foot, swatting at me. I tried to get away, but I had sunk my teeth in too deeply. He held me by the neck and back and began squeezing me. The pressure felt like he was driving my ribs into my lungs. I struggled for air.
The Gigantic didn’t notice David and Reuben as they slid through the black waters, their wings nearly flat, and resurfaced in the whirling pool around his legs. As a single unit, they reared back their heads and struck, their fangs sinking into the throbbing vein on the inside of his knee. The Gigantic collapsed in pain but I was still imprisoned in his grip. Kazan hovered close, preparing to strike. “Go for the jugular vein,” I choked out.
Roaring with agony, thrashing to keep me in his grip while two other poisonous dragons were sinking their teeth into his soft inner knee, he was blind to the young dragon, newly mature with fresh, potent venom, flying close to his neck. Kazan found the popping, red vein, and bit down. Death was almost instantaneous. At his age, Kazan’s venom was the most potent it would ever be. With time, he would conquer the other chemical properties of our amazing pharma-mouths and his venom would weaken, but currently, he was a breeding age male and venom was his security for protecting his mate and offspring. It was twice as strong as the rest of us put together. Not even a Gigantic can overcome the effects of three mature amphibious dragons and one male whose balls had just dropped.
The grip around my neck loosened as he collapsed
with a furious shudder and thud into the water. I slid out and away before his massive weight carried me with him. The ocean churned around me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs thankful after the unbearable starvation. As if from somewhere far away, I heard the alarmed voice – “the boat! The boat!”
Focus. I needed to focus. I looked drowsily at the scene around me. The boat was careening in a whirlpool of waves caused from the battle and fall of the Gigantic. It rocked and reared, trying to stay upward as waves washed mercilessly over the deck and the water swelled and receded. Dimly, I saw Reuben grab the line, hauling and straightening the boat’s course. I saw David fly in to help, stabilizing the dangerously rocking craft. Water continued to splash and flood over the deck, breaking against the cabin windows. “Pull! Pull!” Ordered David. Kazan joined them and they pulled.
I watched in fascination as they pulled, my dizzy thoughts slowing with each breath of fresh air. The stalwart boat lifted its bow, stubbornly defying the ocean’s violent storm. The waves washed over the deck, crashing against the windows of the cabin. The waves! In a snap, my head cleared. Macy was on the boat.
I sped across the water, half flying, half swimming, a lump as big and cold as an ice chunk sticking in my throat. The boat was still tilting crazily back and forth. I changed into human form and staggered into the cabin.
She had tied herself to the pilot’s wheel. It rotated gently to one side then the other, while she leaned against it as motionless as a rag doll. I held up her face. Her eyes were closed. Water streamed from it and bubbled around her mouth. Another wave bucked the boat. I protected her head, shielding it from the invading water with my body. It receded and the boat steadied. We had cleared the turmoil. I untied her. She flopped in my arms.