A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology)

by Jason LaVelle

  Before the men on the beach could come up with a new plan, the dragons took to the air and flew over the beach, ignoring them. They were heading for the village. By the time the men on the beach reached their homes, every last hut was either smashed or in flames. And the dragons were nowhere to be seen.

  Eventually, one was seen high in the sky above the south part of the island. The south, where the caves are. There are three main caves we used for shelter when the dragons came. They are long, straight passages where lava once flowed when the volcano was alive. One was open on one end, looking out to the sea. The openings of the other two had collapsed long ago and could only be entered through narrow fissures in the cave ceiling. One had to descend a rope to enter these caves, and at that time, since no dragon had ever attacked the people in the caves, most of them were hidden in the open cave, the easiest to enter. The elders, in fact, could not quickly or easily enter the other caves.

  But the wide opening was also large enough for the smaller dragons. Over half our people died that day. The defenders who’d been on the beach arrived too late to draw the dragons away. The silver dragon—no doubt the leader of the three—had decided that it would not play games, not this time. Most of the people killed were not eaten. This massacre was not for hunger but for revenge. The silver dragon still bore a grudge for having been so easily led into our traps decades before.

  Or so the elders say. They ascribed thoughts and intentions to the dragons based on their limited knowledge. But one thing we did learn from the silver dragon with the red fringe around its neck is that what works against one will not necessarily work against another. And if the same dragon returns, it will remember what happened before. And why wouldn’t it? Why would it fall for the same tricks twice? Why would it not want revenge for past injuries? If they are at all like us, some dragons will be clever, some dumb. Some will be rational, some emotional. Some may see us as creatures that deserve to live, others may revel in mass slaughter. Whenever a dragon arrives, we cannot know its nature until it is too late.

  After that, we changed our tactics. No longer would we use the open lava cave. The others were difficult to enter, but they were safer. And no longer would we group our defenders together and try to play games with the dragons. Instead, over the course of many more visits, we learned that the best way to weather the attacks was to send all but a handful of men into the caves. The rest, two or three dozen at most, would take to the forest with bows and wait for the dragons to pass. The creatures’ eyes and ears are keen, but over the generations our people have learned how to disappear into the trees. We’ve learned that we must become hunters in our own right. It has been successful. Several dragons have taken arrows in the eyes or snout. The dragons that aren’t injured quickly grow tired of this new game. We are fortunate that we are the last island the dragons reach when they come. They usually roam across the island for only a day or two, constantly harassed by our hunters, and then depart for the next stop along their route, wherever that may be.

  As the village came into sight, I knew that whatever else happened, Rina had to be kept safe. As a watchman who went to the rim once a year, I was also trained to be one of these hunters when the dragons came. I was one of the best archers in the village, in fact, and now that Rina had given herself to me, I knew my aim would be even truer. Every draw of my bow would be for her. Every risk I took in defense of my people would really be for her. As I reached the plaza and doubled over, panting from the run, I began crying out the alarm between breaths.

  “Dragons!” I yelled. “Dragons are coming!”

  Chapter Seven

  Evacuation

  The next few moments were chaos. At that time, our village numbered nearly four hundred people, and almost every one of them was in the main thoroughfare at once. Without waiting for further instructions, most of them began walking west, toward the volcano. The path branched there, with one continuing up the slope while the other turned to the left, heading toward the lava caves on the southern part of the island.

  Perhaps three hundred departed immediately. Around forty of us, though, gathered by the fire in the plaza while the stragglers finished packing their things. Among us were a handful of elders, but the majority were young, strong men like me. I had already seen my parents off and collected my bow, arrows and spear by the time the men who’d sent me ahead finally arrived from the beach.

  I was still out of breath—I hadn’t stopped moving ever since hearing their report—but I finally had a chance to sit as the elders began questioning the men who’d returned. They themselves had seen nothing, but the lookout on Kalina had seen two dragons circling above the farther island, spouting fire.

  “I do not need to tell you your duty,” said Doren, the strongest of the elders, “but I can still pull a bowstring. I will be joining you in the forest.” He picked up a stick from the woodpile then crouched down. In the glow from the fire, he began drawing a map of the island on the ground. One by one, he called us forward. As a man approached, Doren would point to a spot on his map then give further detailed instructions. We did not need this reminder—we all knew our posts—but it was always good to make sure there was no confusion when the time came.

  He called my name, and I got up and walked toward him. “Here,” he said, pointing to a spot near the bay. His stick landed just behind the beach and to the north of the trail leading from the bay to the village. “You know your tree,” he continued. “The dragons almost always land near the bay first, looking for fishermen to kill. If they land on the beach itself, you will have an advantageous position from which to shoot one in the eye.”

  I nodded. I had thought for many long hours about my assigned post in case of attack. If the dragons behaved as we expected, I would be one of the first to engage them. My tree had been chosen because of a wide, flat spot where the trunk branched. I would find good purchase there as I took aim. But another thought had immediately occurred when the spot had been assigned to me: my perch was too high up to jump down. Once I attacked, I could not quickly escape. Precious seconds would be lost as I climbed and slid down the tree. It was true that there would be two others nearby, in trees of their own, and they would continue to harass the dragons if they came after any of us, but all it would take was a single breath, and all three of us could be burned alive.

  I had known all this for years, but not once had I objected to my lot or asked to be posted elsewhere. I was one of the best archers on the island, and everyone present knew it. If anyone could cripple a dragon with a single arrow, it would be me. Ciren and Sashan, who would be my companions in the other trees, were likewise great archers, and at the yearly competition, the prize almost always went to one of us. I felt confident that at least one of the dragons would lose an eye if they landed on the beach.

  Each man, as he received his instructions, departed the plaza without further conversation. There was no time or desire for long goodbyes. We all knew that some of us—maybe even most of us—would not be coming back. It would help no one to stress that truth.

  As the others had, I said a quick prayer with Doren then turned toward the path leading to the bay. The men who would be near me had already departed, and as I reached the path and the forest closed in on both sides, I realized that I had not seen Rina. As I began to regret this, a small voice called to me from the brush.

  I stopped and peered into the forest as Rina stepped out. She ran to me, and I dropped my weapons so I could wrap my arms around her. I held her shuddering body for a moment before bringing my hand up and tilting her lips toward mine.

  “You should have gone with your parents,” I said.

  “I couldn’t. Not without seeing you.”

  “Rina, I… this may be our last kiss.”

  She shook her head. “No. I will kiss you a hundred times more before letting you go.” She planted her lips upon mine again and again before I pulled back, trying to drive away my desire for her.

  “I wish you could, but there isn’
t time. Just one more.” I pulled her closer to me. I wanted to feel her entire body against mine as I parted my lips and welcomed her tongue. I let it glide over mine then pinched her lower lip between my teeth as I slowly pulled away from her. She breathed into me in that moment, and I felt as though she had given me a small piece of her soul. I held on to her for a few seconds more before releasing her and picking up my weapons. “I love you, Rina,” I said as I backed away and her features faded into the darkness. “I will love you forever.”

  I heard her repeat my words. I wanted to run back to her, to hold her. My heart ached, my stomach twisted, and my knees almost buckled with every step I took. But I couldn’t turn back. Her life might depend on me being at my post, ready to welcome death.

  Leaving her there in the darkness was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Even the events to come seem trivial as I think back on that night. I knew that one or both of us might be dead before the next sunset. I faced the greater risk, to be sure, but even in the caves, there was no guarantee of survival. The dragons were strong; if they sought out a weak part of the tunnel ceiling, they could break through.

  I heard her turn and begin walking back toward the village. As the sounds of her footsteps finally faded away, I focused my mind on the task at hand. I hadn’t slept, and I might not have any sleep for the next several days. Rina, as much as the idea tortured me, would have to be forgotten if I was to meet the coming ordeal with any composure. As I walked, I thought back to my years of training. The dragon’s eye, we had been taught, should be considered no more challenging a target than a bird in flight. We should ignore the dangerous reality of what we were aiming at. The bow, the arrow and the target were all that should concern us in the moment. If I could bring down a bird, I could skewer the eye of a dragon as it twisted its head around. I’d told myself again and again that I would remain steady, that I would not panic when the moment came. Every man told himself that, but we all knew that some of us would lose our courage. Some of us would fail, and until each of us stared into the maw of a dragon, none of us could say for certain how we might react.

  I at last reached the beach, but before I climbed my tree, I looked across the bay and toward Kalina. The western part of the island was on fire. So the dragons had moved on from Halana. I glanced at the sky. The dawn was not set to arrive for two hours. If the dragons came before then, we would not know it until they were upon us.

  I waved toward my two comrades in the other trees then lashed my bow, spear and arrows together and used the remaining rope to sling the bundle across my back. I climbed up into my perch, arranged my weapons the way I liked them and then did my best to relax. I saw a great jet of fire erupt from a spot in the sky. It was immediately joined by another. So there really were two dragons. I’d held out a small hope that Kalina’s lookout had been wrong about that. This thought did not have time to sink in, though, as a third jet lit up another part of the island. Three? Could there really be three of them?

  I watched the flames for a while longer, trying to imagine the great, swooping arcs of the creatures as they flew. I never saw three jets of fire at one time, but based on their positions, I knew that my count was correct.

  “Three,” said one of my comrades. I couldn’t tell whose voice it was, but it confirmed my fears. Soon after, I saw no more flames in the sky. The dragons were either on the ground, hunting for prey, or else they were making the flight toward our island.

  I looked at the stars again. One hour until sunrise. I pitied the people of Kalina, but I prayed the monsters would torment them at least until dawn, until I could see what I was shooting at. I got my wish. As the sky began to lighten, we had still not been attacked. During the night, the storm front had pushed its way toward the islands and was spread across the northeastern horizon. I watched the clouds move for a few minutes; they were coming our way. The storm would reach us during the night or else early the next morning.

  A cry from one of the other trees turned my attention back to my more immediate surroundings. I looked toward Kalina then above it. I saw one dark speck, then another, then a third. They grew steadily larger, and before long I could make out the span of their wings. I stretched my back and shoulders and then carefully selected an arrow. I emptied my mind of all thought; I had to let instinct and training take over. I was not likely to have more than one shot, and I would have to make it count.

  Chapter Eight

  First Blood

  I was as still as a stone as the dragons lazily swooped over the bay and came to rest on the beach. They were each a shade of green, and none bore any markings to identify them as creatures who had attacked our islands before. For spite, they smashed the fishing canoes that were there and, if I was seeing things right, even looked as though they were enjoying it. I could see dried blood caking their claws and snouts and running down their chins and necks in dark streaks. One dragon had a splatter of gore on its side, and my mind did not fail to imagine someone from one of the other islands being crushed beneath the lizard as it dropped or rolled over. Has the beast squashed that poor soul for sport, or had it been under attack when it happened?

  My eyes strained as they attempted to look for any injuries along the scaly bodies. All eyes seemed intact, and there was too much dried blood around their faces for me to be able to tell if any of the fluid had come from the dragons themselves. They didn’t seem injured, at least. They made quite a show of gently clamping canoes in their teeth then swinging their necks around and launching the boats into the bay. I could almost believe that it was a game, that they were trying to see who could throw one the farthest.

  I could do nothing but watch. As long as they were moving around, they were too far away for a sure shot. My two comrades in the other trees and I would have to wait until they wandered away from the shore. When at last they did and started exploring toward the forest, I began easing my bow arm up, moving no faster than the swaying of the branches. If they spotted me or charged my position, I could nock and release an arrow quickly enough, but for now, I wanted to remain unseen. I wanted to shoot at my leisure and give myself every opportunity for success.

  When my bow was in position, I brought the arrow up from my other hand. It was one of half a dozen that I had kept over the years. I knew from experience what made for the truest arrow, and I knew these six would not fail me if my aim was steady.

  The dragons were roaming the beach at their leisure. They had no doubt eaten their fill on the other islands and had only come here as a matter of course, because they could. I knew that many—maybe even most—dragons delighted in killing for killing’s sake. In the stories, there were creatures that only made half-hearted attempts against our island. They’d gotten what they needed on the other islands and, absent any bloodlust, seemed content to spread terror for a few hours then be on their way without any great loss of life.

  Maybe these were like that? They hadn’t spotted me or my friends so far, and one had even stretched out on its side as though sunbathing. But I knew that dragons together were always more dangerous. At least one would enjoy killing, and it wouldn’t take much to convince the others to join in on the fun.

  The two dragons that were active drew nearer and nearer to the trees. I turned my head slightly. I could see one of my comrades, Ciren, and he also had his bow at the ready. The dragons would move close to him first, so I watched him and waited for him to shoot.

  When he did, it wasn’t at the dragon I’d expected. His arrow sailed past the two nearer beasts and embedded itself in the half-opened eye of the sunbathing creature. It was a fine, strong shot, one of the best I’d ever seen, and the dragon roared out a jet of fire as it writhed in the sand. I could see that the arrow was buried almost to the feathers, and in the few moments I still had to think rational thoughts, I realized that it had to have pierced the thing’s brain. This wasn’t a very large dragon; I suspected the arrow may have even penetrated all the way through the head and stopped only when it struck the far side of the
skull. Even if the thing somehow lived, we had claimed our first victory; Ciren had drawn first blood.

  But these thoughts and observations happened within the span of three or four heartbeats. Almost as soon as the dragon on the sand let out its bellow, the other two, near the tree Ciren was hiding in, incinerated him. I knew he would have been watching his target and wouldn’t have had a chance to even know it was happening, and for that I suppose there should be some thanks.

  But I, perhaps twenty strides away, still hadn’t been seen. I knew that wouldn’t matter. In their rage, the dragons were apt to burn all the trees around me. Knowing I had only seconds to act, I aimed my arrow and released it at the largest dragon, the one closest to me. The projectile struck the beast’s nostril from the side and dangled there for a moment before dropping to the ground.

  I had injured the dragon, but it had been only a slight wound. But now my position was known. Almost before the arrow struck, I was moving, preparing to climb down. As I dropped my spear down to the base of the tree, I heard the whoosh of another arrow fly past me. Sashan, in the farthest tree, was making his attempt.

  In my flight, I didn’t see where the arrow struck, but I didn’t see or hear anything from the dragons to indicate that either of them had been wounded.

  To my amazement, though, the dragons blundered past me as I climbed down the blind side of the tree. They hadn’t noticed me; Sashan had drawn their ire. I felt more than saw the flames as they made quick work of my comrade.