“We all raced through the void to get here. I think there were some who got here before the main mass of us. But I haven’t seen them. It is a source of worry. They can’t be in dragon form, or I would have sensed them. If even those who came here first have no hoards, then how can all those of us who arrived later ever hope to build one? It was my plan to find the most powerful dragon here now, then kill him and take his hoard and thus his power. That plan died the first day here.”
I see no reason to tell him that some of the girls and guys in my tribe have long since slayed Berezar, Gorgoz, Zahak, and Maretriok. “Do you know the other dragons that came here?”
“I know them all. We were all tricked by the Inferiors to come here. Now it shames me to think of how easily they were able to do that. They promised gold, but not directly. Only by veiled suggestions and hints, in ways that we believed. Partly, I think now, because we all wanted to believe it. The Inferiors knew us well after we hunted them to near extinction. Then they escaped in their void ship, and we followed. And here I am. On a gold-less planet.”
“So, you’re all competing with each other for something that isn’t here?”
Another dactyl tooth snaps off. “So it seems.”
My hands are sticky with not-sheep blood, but I keep on cutting meat off the bones of the fluffy animals. “How long can you live without a hoard?”
He gives me a strange glance. “Not long, I think. A dragon without a hoard is almost unknown. We start collecting hoards when we’re just hatchlings. And yet I left my hoard. The journey through the void was extremely long and taxing. I risked everything for coming to this planet and taking its riches for myself. We all did.”
I frown. “So, there’s a chance all the dragons here might die from a lack of hoards?”
“It is unknown. Nobody has ever been in this cursed position before. Certainly not this many of us.”
“Then when will they start killing the Bigs?”
He sighs. “Unless your Bigs have bones made from gold, it would make no sense for us to expend energy on killing them. Except for enjoyment. It is all a myth, a legend. Wishful thinking only. We’re not here to serve. We’re here to take.”
How would a cavewoman react to that? “Oh. I thought… You’ve killed two already. But you’re only here to find gold?”
Another tooth breaks off in his hand. “Yes. And you don’t know what that is, you claim.”
I look over at him. The sun shines from almost directly above and lights up the dark patch on his head where I shot him. It looks like it’s spreading, getting darker. So are his wrists. Yeah, that MSG definitely contains some anti-dragon stuff. Probably everything those extinct aliens made was designed to repel and hurt dragons. And I can’t blame them for that.
“This lack of gold – does it make you ever weaker?”
Kyandros sends me a little glance. “Why?”
“Just asking. It’s just… you seem a little less crazy than in the beginning.”
“Do I really?”
“Yes.”
We sit in silence for a while. The fire crackles and my knife slices not-sheep meat that will probably never be eaten.
I steal some glances. Even here, even sitting outside a cave on a primitive planet and picking uselessly at a piece of a defeated dinosaur, Kyandros has a majestic air about him that Troga certainly never did. She was scary. And she was evil. But that was it. There was nothing else to her.
Kyandros has a different feel altogether. Purpose, cunning, effortless mastery. Intelligence. Even a degree of empathy that he tries to conceal behind his sometimes icy manner.
“Gold is the only thing you’d want for your hoard?”
“It is the king.”
“So something like, say, a very finely made sword would not be enough?”
He holds one of the dactyl tooth up to the sun, studying it. “If the sword were extremely finely made, from the best steel and with the utmost care from the most accomplished swordsmith, then…”
“Yes?”
He picks up another razor tooth. “Then I would need fifty of them to even feel it. Steel is just not a good material for a hoard. Iron is one of the most common metals. Even worked and refined, it just doesn’t resonate. For some dragons, with only small hoards from before, unused to the power of a large one, a sword might be of interest. If it were taken from an owner who cherished it deeply. For me, it would just be laughable. There is also the state I’m in. I am weakened, and I would need a large hoard to Change now.”
“And if the sword had been used to kill another dragon?”
He chuckles. “I doubt any such sword exists on this planet. And if it did, the dragon in question would have to be renowned for the sword to gain much power.”
“How can you know if something is good enough for your hoard?”
“I must touch it. Then I know. If it is broken or tainted or made from an unworthy material, I will know it. If it is made from a skilled craftsman and if the material is good, I will also know.”
I finish with the meat and finally turn my attention to the furs. I must be careful – the furs are tough when cured, but I don’t have the time or the things I need for it. I’ll have to use them as is, and that means cutting carefully and making sure I don’t make mistakes. “So, only gold is good enough for you now.”
“Gold. Or a fine gemstone. Silver, if there were a lot of it. Where does your tribe keep its silver?”
“We don’t have any,” I state quickly and truthfully. “I know what it is, though. It is shiny, but it goes brown after a while and then it’s just ugly.”
Kyandros looks at me. “You have seen silver?”
“A man from another tribe had a little piece of it in his pants,” I make up on the spot. “Instead of a drawstring, he had a button that could be fastened. It was silver. It was dented and not pretty at all. No better than iron.”
He holds another tooth up and examines it. “Ah. I would need much more silver than a button.”
I measure the first cut at the back of the not-sheep fur. I can sew a little bit with the raptor-bone needle, and I still have a lot of the tough sinews from the raptor. If I need more, I can take the stitches out of the ridiculous cape and the long, hood-like hat. I suspect they make me look as if I’m on the way to grandma’s house in the forest with a basket of food.
“What happens if you just can’t find gold or some of those other things?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“Will you die?”
“I hope not.” He gets to his feet, and I half expect him to climb right out of the icy hole and disappear. But he only goes to the edge of the wall, digs down a little, and comes back with one of my crossbow bolts. He puts another branch on the fire and sits back down. Then he starts using the tip of the bolt to drill a hole in one raptor tooth.
Again, I steal some glances at him. From what he says, he might be dying. Like a human without any food. Phoebe said that the three dragons she met were obviously weakened, too.
Can I just let him weaken and die? He has caused me no harm. In fact, he has kept me alive when everything pointed to my quickly approaching death. I owe him, and not just because I think that the MSG I put on him is playing a major part in weakening him.
I don’t have any gold, of course. I don’t know where the guys buried our gold, and I don’t know where the tribe is that had the gold fever. But clearly they have hidden their gold too, or else there would be at least one very happy dragon flying around right now.
I could go back to the tribe and beg Delyah for gold to give to Kyandros. But if I were to do that, then we would need to know that he wouldn’t immediately turn into a dragon and kill us. For some reason, I think it would be difficult to obtain or to trust a guarantee like that.
“What if you were a member of a tribe?” I say airily. “Wouldn’t that be better than always being alone, always distrusting everyone?”
“A tribe? A dragon tribe? We don’t form them, and we
never will.”
“Then what about a human tribe? I mean, if you have to stay in human form, you might as well make the most of it.”
He shoots me a yellow glance. “Are you offering me membership in your tribe?”
I carefully cut into the not-sheep fur, not looking up. “Maybe.”
“And in return you’d give me food?”
“You say you don’t need that. No, in return we’d give you a home. Friends. A roof over your head. A chance to be a part of something. Maybe even a purpose.”
Kyandros raises his head and sits still for a second, like he’s listening.
Then he gets to his feet in one fluid motion and walks up the icy wall, out of the hole.
I sigh. One of his cold phases again.
Did I offend him? Does he still feel that he’s so superior to me and my friends that being offered our friendship is an insult?
If that’s what he thinks, then he can go fuck himself.
Oh, who cares. I’ll be gone tomorrow.
17
- Kyandros -
I put the cave behind me and walk fast into the remains of the forest. That sound I heard can only be one thing. And I want to put as much distance as possible between me and Mia before—
“Kyandrooos.” The voice is sweet, teasing, and unmistakably female.
I suppress a sigh and turn. “Duchess Berilona. I heard you had found adequate shelter. And yet here you are, out in the cold.”
She is beautiful, of course. All dragons are. But Berilona was always special, even there. Male dragons have been known to fly for many months through the void to just get a glimpse of her and for a chance to maybe be seen by her.
Even in her human form, she takes great care of her style. She wears a purple dress that always clings to her in the right places. Her hair cascades down her back like the purest copper, making my mind twitch in reflexive desire to hold it. Her figure is gloriously female, with wide hips, an impossibly narrow waist, and then a chest so heavy and still high that no male alive can see it and not feel the breath stick in his throat. Her eyes are as green as this jungle used to be, and her face has that combination of beauty, innocence, and knowing suggestiveness which could wake the dead. And this is only her in her human form. Her dragon form is almost obscenely breathtaking in its feminine perfection.
She appears to hover over the snow, hardly making footprints at all. “Indeed, the other males have found a place for me to reside for my short stay on this planet. I notice you made no such effort.”
“And yet, here you are. In the snow and the cold. The other males are not satisfying company?”
Her laughter is like delicate gold coins falling onto a golden floor. “Oh, I always enjoy my alone time. And of course, I wanted to see what was going on with my very favorite.” She runs one delicate hand over her curls.
“Oh, Galindilan is missing? I would have thought he was too old to find favor with you. But old skins are often the chewiest, as they say. Or at least they should say that.”
She laughs again, not as cheerfully this time. “You know who my favorite is. Don’t make me say it. Only the king has a hoard larger than yours, Kyandros. They say you might be king next.”
I look up at the blue afternoon sky. “They say so many things, don’t they?”
“They do. I think I remember them even saying that you promised me gold. Not long ago.”
“Ah. And now you want to see how far I have come in my quest. Or if maybe I have found so much gold that I have no need of your... favors.”
She accomplishes the impossible feat of sashaying around me in this deep snow. “My favors? I don’t think I promised them to anyone. I never have before, certainly.”
“Your virginity is as widely known as it is widely doubted, Duchess. But it was just a guess. I thought perhaps that the male who brought you enough of a hoard to Change and to leave this planet might be rewarded with a mating, so that both you and he and the precious egg inside you might leave together. Indeed, I think that would be the only way you could make it safely through the void. Not alone. But with a mate and a future hatchling to give you the energy.”
She stares off into the distance. “It is not a bad guess. I suppose something like that might be arranged.” She turns to look me right in the eye. “When I have the gold I need.”
“There are so many males in your entourage, Duchess. Surely, they can all bring you a little gold, and so together they might—”
She hisses. “You know they are all useless! Galindilan and Hunderet and Revetax… Too old, too young, too poor, too pitiful!” She screams the last word as if she wants them to hear it. Then she comes in close and puts a dainty little hand on my chest. “There is only one Kyandros. And none of them is him.” With studied innocence, she turns her back and delectable behind to me, then casually bends over a little to brush some invisible grain of snow off her dress.
“How true,” I agree. “But many dragons came here. You know that. Mostly males. They must be all over this jungle. Are you sure one of them hasn’t uncovered a large treasure?”
Her head whips around. “Have you heard of such a thing?”
“Oh, no. Just speculating. It does appear that this planet is devoid of gold. They all live in tribes and spend their days in thankless toil, with no concern or appreciation for what is important. Perhaps one day they will see the value of the king of the metals, but for now, they don’t.”
“Stupid monkeys!” Berilona seethes. “Always making, making, making. And then they only make scrap and trash from their pig iron and their clay and their tainted plastics. There is nothing here worth having. Nothing!”
“Possibly it is too soon to tell,” I suggest. “We have only been here for a few days. Perhaps, something will be brought to light.”
She kicks some snow away from one small, purple shoe. “If not, we might all perish here. But before that happens, I will have my revenge. If there is no gold, and we cannot leave this barren rock, then I will make sure they all die. All the monkeys in their tribes. I will tear them apart, one limb at a time. Every single one. Yes, I know. It is not fair punishment for not supplying us with gold. They deserve much worse. But if their lives are all they have, then I will take them.” All the melodic teasing is gone from her voice. “It will not be a hoard. But it will be a few moments of pure pleasure.”
“I see.” I don’t know what else to say. It never before struck me how unattractive Berilona can be.
She takes some breaths and composes herself. “Do you know where they have me live now? The Inferior ship. That old piece of poisonous and ruined garbage. It’s all I can do to barely step inside it. It reeks of them. At least the Inferiors are dead for good. All of them.”
“Is it far from here?”
She waves dismissively in a certain direction. “You can’t miss it. The ugliest thing on this planet. And that is saying something. Have you seen the tribesmen here? They have an unpleasant look to them. They’re slayers, if I’m any judge. We had to kill a few of them that were inside the Inferior spaceship when we came there. It wasn’t easy. Some others came from the outside, too. Bring me your gold, Kyandros, that we may leave this tainted place to the monkeys and the lesser dragons. The rest of the universe will belong to us.”
She gives me a last green flash and then wanders off among the trees, swinging her ample hips inside the flowing purple dress with just a hint of transparency.
It leaves me cold. How dead she is, how meaningless her life.
How joyless.
And my own?
I sigh and throw a glance towards the cave. Then I walk off in a different direction.
- - -
It’s dark when I return. Mia has put more wood on the fire, and the meat she has prepared from the animals we caught is hanging from branches stuck into the snow. She must have seared some of them on the flames, the way she enjoys before eating it.
There are some pieces of fur here and there on the ground, and much large
r pieces that look like finished pieces of fur clothing.
She has spent the day making things. Useful things. Not trash at all. Things that will make her life better, easier. Things to save effort. Things that are of use.
And who is to say that is wrong? The Inferiors did much the same, and their planet was a marvel of highly advanced tools and objects of leisure and beauty.
They were makers. She’s a maker. I never appreciated what that meant until now. Making objects is a way to slowly, gradually conquer the world around you.
My saw is there, just a barely modified bone from a prey creature. And yet, making it was quite satisfying.
Mia is in the cave, lying on the ground, rolled up in a white fur. The light from the fire flickers over her face. She’s not a perfect beauty like Berilona. Her face doesn’t possess that symmetry, her skin isn’t as flawless. Where Berilona’s face is ice cold and only shows what Berilona wants it to show, Mia’s is alive and far too unguarded. Every secret she tries not to reveal is obvious from her expressions. It is a miracle she is alive, that she has not been murdered long ago.
Perhaps, that’s one of the effects of living in a tribe. It appears that not everyone there is trying to seek out your weaknesses every moment, so you can afford to not always be on your guard.
Mia’s round shape under the fur calls to me and makes my crotch swell. She’s more of a virgin than Berilona ever was, her curves more alluring because they are more natural, not as carefully kept and exaggerated.
I remember what attracted me to Mia that first day, toying with her in the woods. She was so alive. And now that I know her better, I know exactly how alive she is. Much more so than I ever suspected. Much more so than Berilona has ever been.
Is that the case with every lesser species? They live short lives, but they feel them much more powerfully? That has never occurred to me before. If so, taking the life of one of them might be a worse crime than I thought. And at the same time more of a triumph, more valuable.
Caveman Alien’s Enemy Page 12