Dragon's Claim

by Miranda Martin

  "What's wrong?" I ask, seeing he's disturbed by something.

  He sighs, shaking his head.

  "I’m concerned that the meteorite shower has disturbed the creatures of Tajss," he admits, his tone and expression foreboding. "Chatterons...they should not be in this area. It is not the territory they normally roam."

  He seems quite disturbed by the thought. I can see why. If there are more creatures like this wandering around now where they shouldn't be, well, that’s terrifying.

  "We have to get back to the tribe, back to Rosalind,” Bashir continues. “Soon. We must ensure they are still faring well."

  That isn't reassuring at all. I attack the chatteron with renewed vigor. If Bashir says soon, I'm sure he means the quicker, the better.

  As Bashir cuts into the meat expertly and I hack at it attempting to emulate his technique, Jackson joins us, taking out his own knife.

  Before he starts in on the creature, he raises the knife and turns to Bashir, obviously aware of the audience. He raises his voice to be heard.

  "You are always welcome as an ambassador, Bashir. We are all in your debt."

  The crowd cheers again, agreeing with that sentiment. Jackson smiles, pleased, but I feel uneasy still. This won't sit well with Elmer.

  I don’t dwell on thoughts of Elmer. Not when a much more savage threat looms. If they're stirring and leaving their natural habitats to wander in large numbers... This could be catastrophic.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Bashir

  I prepare another cut of meat for the smoker, slicing off a slab from the haunch of the giant carcass and then shaping and trimming it. The sheer amount of time it is taking to process the meat for the entire slain creature is both helping and hurting my state of mind. I feel better focusing on something that I can actually do. It must be done correctly, or the meat will spoil and be wasted. But the work itself is not so mentally consuming that other thoughts do not occasionally intrude, despite my intentions.

  I sigh as I work, frowning. The shame I feel for having lost control of my Bijass is not something I can easily put aside, despite my desire to do so. Every time I am not completely focused on the task at hand, that self-loathing in the pit of my stomach grows and grows.

  I do not know why something deep within me whispers to me that I have failed. Failed at controlling myself. Failed to be the kind of Zmaj I want to be. Perhaps it is some section of stored memory I have not yet been able to tap into. Some knowledge or experience I can no longer access, at least not with my conscious mind.

  I do not know. All I know is that the emotion is draining me. Logically, I know that I require the Bijass at times. That it is likely the reason I am still alive today after everything that has occurred on Tajss. That is a necessary aspect of what and who I am.

  Still, the fact that I could not control it is disturbing. It has never felt quite that strong, that all-encompassing, before. Not since I initially regained control of myself, fought back to the light, to myself. And I believe I know why that is the case.

  I glance over at Penelope. She wipes her brow next to me, her gaze focused as she continues to help me, support me. When I think of the sheer terror I felt when I thought that creature might harm Penelope if I did not take care of it swiftly...

  I stifle a growl even now, just from thinking of it. I look away from her, bring myself back to the present. I take a deep breath to dispel the memory, anchor myself. It is clear to me that I lost control because of that fear for her.

  Simply thinking of the situation is enough to trigger a response even now, when I know she is safe. That aspect of it is something I can understand. Of course I would want my most primal self, my strongest self, to come to her rescue when needed. And it was needed. I do not think I could have destroyed the chatteron, at least not as swiftly, without it.

  That is not what brings shame bubbling up from the depths. The problem is what happened after my foe had fallen. I stab into the meat with a little more force than necessary. I should have been able to rein myself back in. Should have been able to put my own beast back into the confines that I keep it in when it is not needed. I have always been able to keep it there whenever I desire, ever since I regained control. But I was not able to.

  I take another deliberate deep breath, attempting to calm myself as the trapped panic of that period tries to reassert itself. Even now, the shame makes me feel as though the villagers around us are judging me for my lack of control. Though they have even gone so far as to cheer for me when I returned from our quarters with my mind again my own.

  "Bashir? Is everything okay?"

  I look over at Penelope's concerned voice. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun and the exertion of our efforts, her eyes hint at the same worry that is clear in her voice. I am obviously not hiding my emotions as well as I think I am. I give her a reassuring smile that feels strained and does not seem to reassure her all that much.

  "I am fine," I try, looking away again, not wanting her to see the lie in my eyes. Not wanting to spill all of what I am feeling. I feel her hesitate at the short response. But I clearly do not want to talk, so she accepts my answer, moving on with her work, though I feel the worry she harbors for me.

  Now guilt adds itself to my already raw emotions. I do not want to rebuff her. I am behaving more distantly towards Penelope. And that is not right. All she has done is help me, been kind to me. Supported me, even now.

  I need to manage my reaction better, need to find a way to let go of this shame that is eating at me from the inside. I throw myself back into the work, moving faster in an effort to focus all of my mind on the task. Perhaps if I fill myself with other thoughts, the negative ones will not have as much room to grow and fester. It does help to focus on the village's needs instead of my own internal dialogue. So that is what I do.

  I work hard, finishing most of the cutting and smoking of the meat before it is time for a break. A break in which Jackson pulls me aside for help with further exploration deeper into the mine, where the trek is more perilous.

  "...wouldn't it be better if we try to navigate without a light source? It could draw anything living in there to us," Jackson says.

  It is one of many not so practical ideas he has voiced in the last few minutes. I am starting to understand that logic is not always this human's strong suit.

  "We need to be able to see in order to avoid danger. And perhaps accidentally cause a cave-in," I explain, holding on to my patience. "It would not be advisable to go in blind when it is not necessary."

  I am trying to help him see his ideas in a more critical, more real-world light, according to what is sure to fail and what might work. Unfortunately, I am unsure whether Jackson is really listening to what I am saying. He seems quite set on his on viewpoints and opinions. When he waves away my comment and moves on to another idea, I fear I am correct in my impression. I sigh internally but keep my frustration to myself. Showing my anger now would be counterproductive to what we are here to accomplish. It would alienate Jackson when I need to befriend him.

  This behavior is quite baffling. Human males may not have the Bijass, but there is something Penelope has told me is called "ego" which I think Jackson may be under the influence of. At least where his ideas are concerned. I gather this ego does not always fall into logical or reasonable lines.

  The practical implication of that now is I feel somewhat exhausted after having the talk with him. By the time we are all done with dinner, I am ready to be alone with only Penelope by my side. Before we retreat to our quarters, however, we decide to take a detour to bathe first. The days are hot, leaving us coated in sweat and dust. Today we also have the blood of the dead animal on us, which most definitely needs to be washed off.

  While we bathe, my eyes are inescapably drawn to the sight of Penelope's naked, wet skin. It has me itching to be alone with her. To touch her. To stroke every curve of that streamlined body.

  By the time we do make it back to our quarters, I am hungry fo
r her, my cock hard and throbbing for a taste. We walk into our private area, Penelope still speaking of...something. I try my best to listen to whatever she says, but I would be hard pressed to repeat the content of what she is currently saying.

  "I don't think—"

  "Come here," I murmur, interrupting her to wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close.

  Her eyes widen as she feels my hard length against her belly, but the surprise quickly gives way to interest. And heat of her own. Heat that I am grateful to see.

  I pick her up, and she wraps her long legs around my hips as I bring my mouth down to kiss her upturned, waiting lips. I moan at the taste of her, at the feel of her. Yes. This is what I need right now. The kiss is deep, hungry, small sounds escaping Penelope's mouth only to be swallowed by mine as I keep my lips pressed to hers.

  I make my way over to our bed, laying her down onto it before stopping only briefly to divest us both of our clothes. Penelope beckons me back with hungry eyes, sitting up to pull me down to her. I do not think I have ever seen a more welcome sight.

  Groaning, I let myself be pulled down and set my mouth back on hers as she reaches for my erection, aiming it at her ready entrance. I gasp as I feel the hot wetness there. All for me.

  I push forward as she thrusts her hips up to take me in, both of us working to get me in as deep as I can go. With no more restrictions around the New Villagers, Penelope is free and as eager as I am, merging with me with abandon. As I meet her kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust, she is almost insatiable, possessed with desire. Desire for me. It only heats my blood more.

  Matching her fervor with my own, while being careful to hold back the full depth of my passions so as not to crush her under them, we make love as if nothing else matters, as if we are the only two who exist. I touch the hard tips of her breasts, the soft skin on the insides of her thighs. The firm little nub at the apex of her sex that makes her cry out with pleasure. I grit my teeth as she squeezes down on me.

  To my surprise and pleasure, once is not enough for her that night.

  "More," she mutters, pulling me back in for another kiss, her face flushed, breasts pink from the attention I have already showered on them. I give her what she desires. It is no hardship.

  I marvel at what has gotten into her after we make love twice more during the night before she is spent, but I do not question the gift. She is a sure treasure. I thank Tajss for such an extraordinary woman every day. It took time, effort, and patience to circumvent her defenses, to show her she could trust me. It was worth it. I would do it all again and more to win her.

  Satiated physically, my heart contented, I finally fall asleep with Penelope held close in my arms. Unfortunately, I do not sleep for long. A harsh banging wakes both of us up, pulling us out of our sound sleep.

  "What is it?" Penelope asks, her eyes clearing rapidly. "What's that sound?"

  "Meteorites," I mutter, hearts racing as I slide out of bed quickly. "Stay here," I tell her.

  I rush to the door, hoping I am not too late. When I pull it open, one of the flaming rocks crashes only feet away from me, sand bursting into the air and pelting my feet.

  The sky is full of sizzling lines of orange light, space debris falling to the ground so fast my eyes can hardly take it in. Not a comforting sight. Only some of the debris is on fire, though—most of it is huge boulders that are merely smoking.

  The others need to be warned. If they come outside in this, they could be seriously injured or worse. Taking a deep breath, I start yelling.

  "Stay in your buildings!" I shout, raising the volume on my voice as high as it can go. "Do not go outside! It is a meteorite shower!" I add for good measure.

  I see a door open some distance away, but then shut as my voice reaches the occupants of that building. I yell the warning twice more before retreating inside. I hope everyone heeds my warning. It is the best I can do for now.

  I return to the bed to hold a now wide-awake Penelope.

  "What do we do?" she asks, leaning into me, the pelting continuing like thunder all around us. She winces as a particularly earsplitting crash reaches us.

  "We wait. There is nothing else we can do until it passes," I respond grimly. I do not like the feeling of helplessness, but this is something we cannot fight.

  The actual duration of the event is almost half an hour, but I stay inside with Penelope for ten more minutes after the noise stops before it’s safe enough to look outside and check on everyone. When we open the door, it is clear right away that major damage has occurred even in that relatively short amount of time.

  People start to venture out as we do, surveying the damaged buildings, the rocks embedded in the ground. Roofs have collapsed, doors are gone, walls have crumbled. All told, three of the buildings are completely destroyed. Apart from that, there is the relatively minor damage where sections of roof are missing, holes have appeared in other walls, and smaller debris has nicked at countless objects as far as the eye can see.

  "We need to reinforce the functional buildings to avoid this happening again," Jackson comments, his eyes somber as he surveys the damage with the rest of us. "With something strong. Perhaps with metal and stone."

  Those around us agree with the sentiment. It is a sound one. I nod with the others.

  "There is an ore called breksa that may be helpful," I say. "As well as metals deep in the body of Tajss, though I am unsure if they can be found in the mine."

  "Then we have to intensify our investigation of the mine," Jackson says immediately. "If there is something useful down there, we need it now."

  "That's too dangerous," Penelope interjects. "Bashir is more familiar with Tajss and stronger—it makes more sense for him to go first, so he can navigate the tunnels and map them out for the others."

  "I agree," I chime in, smiling at Penelope when she straightens with pride at my support. "The mine work should be delayed until I can go in and check for the possibility of internal damage from the meteorite shower."

  "We cannot afford to wait to fortify our buildings," Jackson counters, exasperation clear in his voice.

  "It is not safe," I repeat. "Sections could cave in. Waiting for a short period is only prudent in this case."

  Jackson shakes his head again, his jaw stubbornly set. His ego is obviously at the wheel again. I attempt again to change his mind, but I am not successful. He stubbornly refuses to entertain my arguments.

  "We're going in," he finally says, holding his hand up to stop my words. "That is non-negotiable. And it is not your decision to make."

  I shut my mouth. He is right. I am not the head leader here. When he sees I am done speaking, Jackson turns to the villagers and raises his voice to tell them his plan.

  "We will go into the mines! We will find the ore and metals we need to fortify our buildings..." he announces.

  I shake my head as I watch him orate. Jackson seems possessed with the need to maintain his authority, to raise the spirits of the upset villagers. The latter is commendable, but I suspect Jackson believes the ores he might find could give him the power to dictate to Rosalind. He would love to be in a position to tell her what to do and so have more to offer the New Villagers.

  I fear his impatience may result in more trouble than good. Rushing in to something of this nature without proper planning is foolhardy. Those involved in the mining effort push forward, but they look at me when Jackson tells them to move out. They heard my opinion when I gave it, or it reached their ears at some point. With so many people in close proximity, news travels. Also, I was not trying to be particularly quiet, especially towards the end.

  "We need the metal and the ore," Jackson says sharply, obviously also noticing the looks, and not appreciating the lack of respect for his authority.

  They murmur their assent and move toward the mine after that, none of them protesting. The uneasy feeling in my stomach tells me this is a bad idea. I can only hope I am wrong.

  "You tried," Penelope reassures me, her eyes al
so worried as she watches them leave.

  I nod my assent and put my arm around her shoulders as we turn away, back to our quarters. Sometimes trying is not enough.

  The suns are high in the sky by this time, so we go about our daily activities, but it is not long before we hear word back from the mines.

  "Jackson! Jackson!"

  Penelope and I both rush out of our quarters, as do the other New Villagers when we hear the shouts. I can see right away that there is nothing we can do to help.

  The group that entered the mines has returned, their clothing and faces smeared with dust, carrying the bloodstained body of a fallen comrade. Jackson rushes over, his face white as he takes in the body.

  "What happened?" he asks hoarsely, his face haunted.

  "There was a sudden collapse when we tried to push through a section," the one in front explains grimly. "Otis was caught in it."

  The head injury is clearly what killed the poor man. Everyone gathers around, stricken by the sight of the body. Anger flares inside me at the loss, at the unnecessary death.

  The mining crew picks up Otis’s body and carries it to his quarters. A minute or so after they enter, a long, hoarse, woman’s scream pierces the air. Everyone looks in that direction. The screams continue.

  The woman’s grief makes me furious. Knowing that the man died to satisfy Jackson’s need to establish dominance has me desperate to change this situation. The New Villagers need to circumvent their own egos and learn to listen when they are warned by a native who has their best interests at heart. That is the moment Elmer decides to use this tragedy as political capital.

  "This is unacceptable!" he shouts, drawing the attention of the shocked and grieving crowd. When he sees he has everyone's attention, he throws his shoulders back, the gleam in his eye indicating he's enjoying the attention. "Jackson is ill-prepared to be the mine leader!"

  The screams go on and on. A woman in the crowd kisses her man’s cheek and then heads towards Otis’s quarters. Restless movement in the square and people’s murmurs have Jackson glaring at Elmer. But he does not return the volley, whirling and rushing away instead.