Dragon Frontier

by Dan Abnett

  ‘I didn’t mean to say that you had anything to do with it,’ said Jake, horrified. ‘I didn’t mean you had taken my family. I just want to know if they’re really dead.’

  ‘We must return,’ said Yellow Cloud, getting up abruptly and turning his bracelet in the air until it sang. ‘We will talk to the elders. They will know what to do.’

  When all the dragons had shaken the healing waters from their wings, scales and feathers, their riders began to mount them. The water had washed Match’s wound, and new skin and scales were gleaming pale yellow in its place. Jake could even see the buds of new feathers emerging from the joint.

  ‘You see,’ said Yellow Cloud. ‘They heal.’

  Jake wasn’t sure he’d be allowed to fly Match, but then he remembered his father’s wise words: ‘When a man falls off a horse, it is better he gets straight back on again, neh?’

  ‘Ride with me,’ said Yellow Cloud. ‘I will be behind you all the way.’

  Jake mounted Match and brought him up into the air. A few seconds later, he was surrounded by the other dragons and their riders, and Yellow Cloud was right behind him.

  They flew along the ridge and back through the cleft. Jake watched the two riders in front of him line up their dragons. Then they disappeared into the narrow gap between two rock faces, turning their bodies as they entered. Only a minute away from the gap, Jake’s eye was drawn by a deep shadow falling across him and a portion of the ridge beyond. The geyser released a great gout of steam, which clouded around him in a yellow haze, and yet Jake was convinced that he had seen something.

  Less than half a minute from the fissure in the rock, Jake knew that he must guide Match safely through. He looked left and right, and there, against the rock ridge, he saw the great ragged shadow of a wing unfurling. Jake turned his head to see which of the dragons was casting the shadow. His quick, darting gaze was met by a pair of huge, fierce, magenta eyes.

  Jake knew that the cleft was only a second or two away. His hand tensed as he prepared to turn Match on his side, and his eyes faced dead ahead so that he could complete the manoeuvre. There was no time to think about great black shadows or fierce magenta eyes. There was no time to wonder at the scale of the beast he had seen. There was no time.

  Jake took a deep breath, turned his hands hard left and flipped Match at an angle so they could pass between the two sheer cliffs of rock. A minute or two later, Jake was back in the world of the small pale moon, where the sand was orange and the mud purple. It seemed ordinary compared to what lay beyond the narrow rock passage.

  Somewhat cleaned up and back in his own clothes, Trapper Watkiss stood beside Nathan McKenzie on the steps of the mercantile.

  ‘We have to save our children from the evil Natives,’ said Nathan McKenzie.

  Trapper Watkiss looked out over a sea of faces. Thirty or forty men and boys had gathered outside the mercantile to form a posse. They all had weapons, mostly rifles, and some had lengths of rope. Many wore serious expressions, but some looked almost gleeful. For them, frontier life was only interesting when there was conflict, which wasn’t nearly often enough.

  Pius Garret, who wished for the safe return of his children more than anyone, looked pale and doubtful.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ he said to Masefield Haskell. ‘The Natives aren’t evil, and I see no reason to go to war with them.’

  ‘You want your children back?’ asked Haskell.

  ‘More than the world,’ said Garret, ‘but Jake ran away because he lost his family. Eliza ran after him because she felt guilty, as well she might. There was no kidnapping.’

  ‘And yet,’ said Haskell, ‘the children have not returned home, and Mr Watkiss was the last person to see them.’

  ‘Trapper Watkiss,’ said Garret, ‘is in Nathan McKenzie’s pocket. I wish I knew what he was up to.’

  ‘He’s up to finding gems in the hills where the Natives reside,’ said Haskell. ‘Hence my job as surveyor and geologist.’

  Pius Garret turned to Haskell, his eyes wide, and his jaw dropping. So the rumours are all true, he thought. After a moment, with Nathan McKenzie’s speech in full flow, he asked, ‘Can I rely on you to be the voice of reason, Haskell?’

  ‘I’m a scientist,’ said Haskell. ‘What else would I be?’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Garret, and, before Masefield could answer, he said, ‘Thank you for everything.’

  ‘We must drive the Natives away from our mountains! I wish you all good hunting!’ shouted Nathan McKenzie at the end of his rabble-rousing speech. Most of the three dozen or so men stamped their feet, waved their weapons or cheered, and several did all three. Pius Garret and Masefield Haskell didn’t agree with McKenzie and the rabble, but they hoped some good would come from the search.

  A large group of men does not move fast, and it took most of the day for the posse to reach the place where Trapper had been found, burnt and unconscious. The long walk, some of it single file along narrow paths, had taken the fight out of most of the men, and now they were faced with a sheer cliff.

  ‘How are we going to climb that?’ asked one incredulous farmer, pointing at the wall of chalk. He was broad and stocky, and ill-equipped for such a climb.

  ‘I came down it,’ said Trapper Watkiss. ‘So there’s sure to be a way up it.’

  ‘We found you unconscious in six inches of water,’ said one of the original search party, ‘and the light’s fading.’

  ‘Perhaps we should send up our best climber,’ said Garret, ‘as a scout.’

  ‘So the Natives can kidnap him?’ asked Trapper. ‘We need to go in, guns blazing, and roust them out of the mountains.’

  ‘If there’s a path up the cliff, I’ll find it,’ said Haskell, ‘but I’ll need some help with ropes.’ Trapper Watkiss looked him up and down, taking in the floppy hair and the tweed suit, and sneered.

  ‘I’ll help,’ said Garret, picking up a coil of rope that had been dropped on the shingle along with some of the tools and guns. Haskell took a small pickaxe out of his pack, and the two men approached the cliff.

  An hour later, a large fire was burning brightly, and most of the men were sitting in groups, eating and waiting. It was almost dusk, and Haskell and Garret hadn’t climbed very far. Some of the men had decided that nothing was likely to happen until morning and were sharing drinks from the flasks of liquor they’d brought with them. They soon grew rowdy and aggressive, and some of them were spoiling for a fight with the Natives, just as soon as they could find them.

  Jake returned to the Native settlement to a hero’s welcome. Tall Elk and Chief Half Moon formed a welcoming party as soon as word reached them that the boys had completed their first day’s training, and there would be a feast to celebrate their safe return.

  As they gazed into the sky, in the last of the late afternoon sunshine, the Natives were astonished to see a young dragon among the other mounts. They began to holler and chant as the Thunderbirds circled overhead, and broke into gleeful ululations as they saw that Jake was flying his own dragon.

  As Jake dismounted, Eliza rushed over to him. She was so confused that she didn’t know whether she wanted to thump him or embrace him. In the end, she smiled and punched his right arm. She looked at his left one, but didn’t dare to punch it, not even in jest.

  ‘Say hello to Match,’ said Jake, and the dragon dropped down and placed his head on the ground at his master’s feet.

  ‘Hello, Match,’ said Eliza. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

  ‘You’re not afraid?’ asked White Thunder.

  ‘I was the first time,’ answered Eliza, ‘but, if Jake isn’t afraid, why should I be?’

  ‘
Why indeed?’ asked Yellow Cloud as he came to stand next to Jake.

  ‘Did you see it?’ Jake asked the Native.

  ‘Did I see what?’ asked Yellow Cloud.

  ‘In the Land of the Red Moon,’ said Jake. ‘I didn’t have much time to look, but it was big and black, with purple eyes.’

  ‘I saw you in front of me,’ said Yellow Cloud, ‘but nothing else. We will talk again tomorrow. Tonight we will feast and celebrate.’

  ‘We’re going home tomorrow,’ Eliza said fiercely, turning away from Jake. Then she turned back to White Thunder, and the women led the riders back to the Lodge for the feast they had spent much of the day preparing.

  As Jake and Eliza sat side by side, Eliza said, ‘They’ve been talking about you all day. They say you’re special.’

  ‘Not me,’ said Jake, ‘Match.’

  ‘Didn’t you see their faces when you were flying over our heads? Didn’t you hear the singing and cheering?’

  ‘That wasn’t for me,’ said Jake.

  Before Eliza could explain, there was a sudden commotion, and several Native scouts burst into the Lodge. Within moments, Yellow Cloud, Chief Half Moon and Tall Elk were on their feet, and then more of the men began to leave the Lodge.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jake asked White Thunder.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘They’re talking about many white men coming. They’re talking about war.’

  ‘Trapper Watkiss spent years trying to find this place,’ said Jake, ‘and, in the end, we were brought up here on the dragons.’

  ‘They’re climbing the cliffs,’ said White Thunder, listening to the men as they prepared for the attackers. ‘They talk of Flame Beard bringing white men with ropes and guns and torches.’

  ‘That’s what the Natives call Trapper Watkiss,’ said Eliza.

  ‘He shot at the dragons in the forest,’ said Jake, ‘and he stabbed Black Feather. Why would he come back? Why would he bring a posse?’

  ‘They’re coming for you,’ said Eliza, shaking with anger, ‘and it’s all my fault.’

  ‘I must stop it,’ said Jake, looking around for Yellow Cloud. Some of the Natives were armed with bows and arrows, or with spears or knives. They started to leave the settlement on horseback, taking the long path through the clouds to the riverbank. The Thunderbird corral was full of riders mounting their beasts ready to fly out to meet the angry mob.

  ‘We must stop it,’ said Eliza. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  Jake spotted Yellow Cloud about to mount his dragon, and he ran over to him, followed by Eliza and White Thunder.

  Jake swung his bracelet in the air, faster and faster, until it sang out the only note that was audible in the hubbub of the corral. All the dragons, mounted or not, turned in Jake’s direction. In another moment, Match was at his side.

  ‘They’re coming for you because Trapper Watkiss told them we were here,’ Jake told Yellow Cloud. ‘I don’t know what else he said, but you need me and Eliza with you.’

  ‘Women do not ride, except in an emergency,’ said Yellow Cloud, gesturing to the girls.

  ‘This is an emergency,’ said Jake. ‘They’ll kill you if they think you’ve harmed one of their women, but if they see Eliza they might stay calm.’

  Yellow Cloud thought for a moment, while Eliza crossed her arms and glared at the Native.

  ‘You will ride with me,’ he finally told her. Then he said something to White Thunder, who turned to walk away.

  ‘Where’s she going?’ asked Eliza.

  ‘Women do not ride,’ said Yellow Cloud.

  ‘If I’ve got to ride with you,’ said Eliza, ‘she’s coming too. Otherwise, I ride with Jake.’

  White Thunder smiled at Eliza and waited for Yellow Cloud’s reply. He made no answer, but reached his hand down to help her up on to his Thunderbird. There was room in front of him for both girls.

  Eliza could feel White Thunder trembling behind her. She took the girl’s hands and pulled them firmly around her waist. Then she placed her arms over White Thunder’s. White Thunder breathed deeply, and the trembling stopped, but she yelped when the Thunderbird took off. Eliza was determined not to be afraid again, but she thought she might have been, if it hadn’t been for White Thunder.

  In the time it took both girls to mount, Jake and most of the others were already circling over the settlement. Yellow Cloud wove bigger circles than the others, rising slowly so as not to scare Eliza and White Thunder. After half a dozen circuits, he had risen up beyond the others. Then he signalled and turned, and began to lead the dragons out over the waterfall.

  The dragons, almost a dozen of them, flew in unheard and unseen by the posse.

  Some of the men had drunk too much, and a number of scrappy fights had broken out. They had lit a large fire, and several torches had been wedged into the ground and were burning brightly. The sky beyond was black and impenetrable, and the stars were not visible with so much light from the fire and torches.

  The waterfall continued to spill thousands of gallons of water over the precipice every second, creating a backdrop of sound, like nearby thunder.

  As Jake flew over the waterfall, he realized how clever Yellow Cloud had been. The posse would not hear them coming. Jake couldn’t even hear Match’s wings beating and flexing beneath him over the deafening throb of the water. He couldn’t feel the wind caused by the speed of flight, but he could feel the sting of a million water droplets as the drifting mists assailed him.

  Jake wondered whether he had ever felt so good.

  The posse had become so rowdy that the men had forgotten about climbing the cliff to the Native settlement.

  When it grew too dark to continue, Garret and Haskell returned to the fire. They had stalled for time and begun to formulate a plan to stop the search party attacking the Natives. Before they knew what was happening, the posse of men from McKenzie’s Prospect, with Trapper Watkiss among them, was well and truly surrounded.

  No one heard the beating of wings as the dragons flew down from the north, and no one saw the Natives on their Appaloosas riding in from the south. The first that many of them knew about it was when they heard a shot being fired. The Natives on horseback began hooting and hollering, and raised their spears and bows in defence.

  ‘Injuns!’ shouted Trapper Watkiss, grabbing his spare rifle, another old Hawken just like the one the Natives had taken from him.

  The old man was a good shot, but it was dark, and he was tired and panicked, and the burns on his face were sore. His aim was off, and his first shot flew wide.

  While Trapper got ready to fire again, Pius Garret stepped in and caught the rifle barrel in his strong right hand.

  ‘We talk first,’ he said. ‘I won’t attack these people for no good reason.’

  But most of the men had joined the posse because there was bound to be a good fight, and they checked and loaded their weapons, and urged each other on.

  Then Yellow Cloud and his Thunderbird flew over them. The light from the torches and the fire gleamed off the scales on the creature’s belly. Its wings beat, long and slow, and it came around in a large arc, followed by the other dragons. The men on the ground gazed up at the extraordinary creatures in awe and wonder, rooted to the spot, and totally incapable of raising their weapons.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ asked Trapper Watkiss, jumping up and down in a frenzy. ‘There be dragons!’

  Garret’s hand dropped from the barrel of Trapper’s gun, and the old man raised it to his shoulder, aiming it at Yellow Cloud’s dragon. Haskell realized that something extraordinary was happening and kicked Trapper’s legs from under him. The
old man landed on his back with his feet in the air, gasping for breath, but not before the gun had gone off.

  The rifle had been pointing almost vertically into the air. There was a sudden cry of pain, and a puff of yellow flame and grey smoke lit up the sky. A dragon had been hit. It spasmed in the air, flexing its neck and legs, and its wings contracted. In its pain, it sparked up a burp of flame that lit the scene in mid-air.

  The men gasped as they heard a strange, squawking scream. It looked as if the dragon was going to fall out of the sky, as it dropped through the air, convulsing, but its Native rider soon steadied his mount. He urged it to spread its wings, and finally, the dragon swung away to land beyond the group of Appaloosas. The Natives on horseback stopped hollering and drew closer, raising their bows and spears at the posse.

  ‘We talk first!’ Garret said in a clear, loud voice.

  Then someone jogged towards him. The crowd was so quiet, watching the injured dragon, that they heard the runner draw closer. Jake threw his arms around Garret and beamed at him. Then he waved at the rest of the men, both arms high in the air.

  ‘Don’t fight!’ he shouted into the crowd.

  Jake looked at Yellow Cloud on his dragon, high above them, and beckoned for him to descend. Yellow Cloud landed his dragon thirty yards away, beyond the Natives on horseback, out of sight of the white men and out of reach of their bullets. Close by, the injured Thunderbird was being tended by his rider. Trapper Watkiss’s bullet had grazed its neck, but the wound was not serious.

  Yellow Cloud walked through the group of Appaloosas to the Native riding the lead horse. He spoke to the rider and stood beside the horse, unwilling to get close to the angry white men.

  Eliza accompanied White Thunder until the Native girl was safely mounted on the horse of one of her cousins and then went to stand beside Yellow Cloud. She believed that no one would shoot at him if there was a risk the bullet might hit a white girl instead.