A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology)
Page 4
They were still breathing fire at Sashan’s tree and the surrounding forest when my feet hit the ground. I did not stop to look back. I grabbed my spear, made sure my bow and bundle of arrows were secure and then began running. I raced through the forest, avoiding the rocks and roots that I knew so well, making, I thought, almost as good a time as if I were running along the smooth path. I ran for perhaps five minutes then angled toward a low, broad-leafed plant and skidded to a stop behind it.
I had an arrow nocked instantly and looked down the shaft at the forest. Seeing nothing, I jerked my head upward, toward the sky. The forest was thick, but dragons did not move by stealth. I would see or hear them if they were near. My breathing began to slow, and I finally eased the tension on my bowstring.
It was now a waiting game. The dragons would certainly begin searching the island now that one of them had been injured and another possibly killed. It had always been a heavily argued point that if two or more dragons came, it was best to do nothing but hide and hope for the best. If we managed to kill one of them, it was reasoned, the others would want revenge and not rest until every last one of us had been found and murdered.
I, for one, had agreed with the logic but not the philosophy. Yes, we might enrage the dragons if we killed one of them, but we were men. We would not cower in fear as these creatures destroyed everything we possessed. It was our right to defend ourselves against this terror even at the cost of our lives.
Such thoughts, though, were but abstract in my mind. Every breath, every twitch of muscle, was ruled by instinct. I could become as an animal if need be and survive in the forest indefinitely. As long as the dragons were alive, I would have to. I knew that there were dozens of my fellow villagers spread across the island, thinking the same thought. I knew I would encounter a man here or there, but my people had learned that massing our forces against dragons only led to more death. No, it was better that we be solitary hunters, able to move and act free of distraction or encumbrance.
Feeling around at the base of the plant, I found some wet mud and spread it across my face and chest. I would become like the creatures that had existed before the gods breathed souls into them and made them humans: half man, half animal, inseparable from the earth and trees around me.
At last, I stood and stripped off my loincloth. Even the slightest restriction to my movement could mean the difference between life and death. I already had my spear and bow to hinder me, but without them I could not hope to harm a dragon. I reached down and gathered up more material with which to complete my muddy ablutions. When I was satisfied with the result, I made sure my weapons were clean then emerged from the shelter of the plant and began walking back the way I had come. If the dragons had not yet moved inland, they might still be near the beach. I had to find them before they found me.
Chapter Nine
The Thing on the Beach
The forest was alive with its usual noises as I made my way back toward the bay. If dragons were near, I expected there would be some alarm among the animals, so I strode steadily onward, not feeling the need to move by stealth. Still, in one hand I held my spear, and in the other my bow with an arrow against it. The rolled bundle with my remaining arrows hung across my back, securely bound to keep its contents in place. I didn’t worry about not having easy access to them; the chance that I could shoot more than one arrow before having to flee was slight.
At last, the burned trees came into view. One of them, charred but still upright, held a curled, blackened mass that I knew to be Ciren. Some of the smaller tress had been consumed completely, their remains still smoking, but the larger trees had not fallen. I imagined they would survive. There were other trees on the island that had been damaged by fire, and they had sprouted new growth the next season.
There was a slight smoky haze in the air, but it didn’t look as though the fire had spread too far. It had been a wet summer, and the plants and earth were engorged with water. One dragon, I remembered from the stories, had attacked during a dry season. While not many had died, a quarter of the island had been burned. It was fortunate that the plants and trees grew quickly.
I strained my eyes to peer through the smoke. I could see the crescent of sand in front of the bay, but there were no dragons. The one Ciren had shot through the eye was gone. Had it survived, or had it taken to the sky to die over the water as others had done? I took a few more steps and froze. There was something on the beach amid the wreckage of the canoes. Not a dragon, but something. I crouched down, set my spear beside me and readied my bow. I pulled back the string and swept from left to right. I then aimed my arrow skyward. I squinted into the sun; it had been said that dragons in flight liked to attack with the sun behind them.
Seeing nothing to worry me, I retrieved my spear and stood upright again. Stepping carefully to avoid any smoldering embers, I left the relative shelter of the trees and walked onto the sand. The thing on the beach was white. I thought at first that it might be a seal or a beached shark, but as I approached, my curiosity turned to horror. It was a woman. Her skin was not brown like mine; it was pale, like some of the men who came in the big ships. She was naked, but if her body had been carried a long way through the ocean then over a reef, this was not unusual. Still, even from a distance, I knew this was no long-dead, water-logged corpse.
I put one foot in front of the other, prepared at any moment to dash back into the forest. Finally, I stepped past the smashed hull of a canoe, and her face came into view. An arrow sprouted from her left eye.
I dropped to my knees, my stomach churning as the impossible thought came to me. This woman was the creature Ciren had killed. I rebelled against the idea, my mind trying to conjure up any other explanation. The woman’s face was covered in blood, which was to be expected given her injury, but now that I could see her more clearly, I saw that her entire right side was caked in dried gore. It matched what I had seen on one of the dragons when they’d first alighted on the beach.
The shock of my discovery faded, and my instincts once again took over. I dared not approach the body. Even now, I was too far from the trees if the other dragons returned. I strode purposefully back the way I had come and did not stop until I had gone past the burned trees and was once again in deep forest. There I found a flat rock and sat down to consider what this might mean. Could I use this knowledge to my advantage?
There were ancient stories that had been carried across the ocean by my people, stories that had been told long before we’d ever come to this island. In them, there were tales of men who could transform into animals. My people believed that the gods also breathed souls into them, as they had regular men, but that some part of the animal had remained. They walked among us, hiding their secret, and only revealing themselves when their primitive natures overcame their human minds.
But never had I heard of a human turning into a dragon. The men in the big ships had not said anything of it, but it is true that we could speak to them only in single words and gestures. I thought back to one ship that had come when I was a child; this was the ship that had traded the chronometer to us.
One day, the men had allowed some of us boys to accompany them in their smaller boat as they rowed back out to their ship anchored at the entrance to the bay. These were kind men, not like some of the others, and they showed us many unusual things. I did not understand most of it, but one thing I did recognize: a map.
We were shown into their captain’s quarters aboard the ship, and there was a large map covering the table in the middle of the cabin. Through gestures, their captain made us understand that the three dots on the map were our islands. With his finger, he traced the route their ship had taken and finally stopped at the edge of a land the size of an ocean. This part of the map was drawn in great detail, and many symbols were written across it. We had known of vast lands beyond our islands, but this was the first time that I myself understood just how large the world was.
As I sat on my rock, this memory came to me. It seemed
disconnected from my current situation, but I eventually realized that my mind was telling me something important: the world was so large that creatures like the dragons could roam forever without their true nature ever being discovered. If other lands were rich with game animals, we might be some of the few people who had suffered their attacks. We believed they lived for a long time, perhaps centuries. The question now was whether they remained as dragons for most of that time or became humans and lived among other people.
Something in the ancient stories of the shape changers stood out to me: it was said they could not hold their animal form forever; eventually they must become human again. This idea merged with another from our stories of the dragon attacks. There was one time, the stories told, when a dragon disappeared. It is not easy for a dragon to hide, so men searched the island and, finding nothing, sent a message that it was safe for the others to come out of the caves. The moment they returned to the village, the dragon reappeared, crashing out from the forest, and many were killed.
Plenty of blame was laid at the feet of the men who’d searched the island. The only explanation was that they had been careless and failed to see the dragon hiding so near the village. The lookout on the rim of the volcano would have seen it in flight if it had left the island then returned, and he would also have seen the trees shake and the birds rise up in flocks if it had traveled across land.
I now had a much better explanation, and if it was correct, it meant that the two surviving dragons might turn back into humans while they were still on the island. I hoped this also meant they could be more easily killed.
I got up from my rock and began walking. I would have to be even more careful now. I was no longer only hunting large, noisy dragons, I might be hunting men who could hide and move as quietly as I could. Even in human form, they could kill me if I didn’t see them in time.
With this thought in the front of my mind, I turned my attention to the ground. I would have to scrutinize every footprint, every thicket, every large tree that someone could hide in or behind. My only comfort was that as humans, they were weaponless. If I came across them, I could not hesitate. They’d most likely change form before attacking me, and I had to strike before they could complete that transformation and their bodies once again became impenetrable.
Chapter Ten
Doren’s Triumph
I hunted throughout the day, but I saw no sign of the dragons. Nor did I see any trace of my fellow hunters. If they saw me, they did not call out, and I wondered if my appearance—naked and covered with mud—made them hesitate, thinking I had lost my wits. I felt sorry for this, as I desperately wanted to tell someone else what I had learned about the creatures. If I died, my people might otherwise never know. Another part of me decided that such a story would only confirm my madness to them. As it was, I saw no one, and they did not see or acknowledge me. When the sun began to set, I knew I would have to rest.
As the glow on the horizon disappeared, I found a spot where I was hidden and protected on one side and settled down. I desperately tried to keep my eyes open, but at last I slept. I had no choice. I hadn’t slept the night before, and I was more exhausted than I had ever been. As I drifted off, I idly thought of finding something to eat first, but even hunger couldn’t keep me awake.
In the morning, though, it was the only thing on my mind. I gathered a variety of fruits and nuts—I knew by heart where these trees grew—and as I sat eating, a friendly face appeared. It was Doren, the village elder who’d decided to join the hunt. I guessed he had also come to pick some fruit. I had naturally found a concealed place to sit as I ate, and I called out to him from my cover. His arm shot to his spear, which he’d rested against a nearby tree, as he twisted his head in my direction. My voice was raspy, and he hadn’t recognized my greeting for what it was. I called again and saw his muscles relax.
I identified myself and began to rise. As my head cleared the bush I was hiding behind, a large shape loomed up behind Doren. It was fortunate he was already poised for battle. He reacted instantaneously and whirled around as the dragon’s open maw came down toward his head.
Doren met the gaping mouth with his spear and buried it in the thing’s throat, but he had no chance to appreciate his triumph; the dragon let out a short jet of flame, and it was enough. Doren was dead. The dragon, though, was faring no better. The creature sputtered blood as it drunkenly crashed into the tree beside it.
Another dragon, the large one I had shot in the snout, appeared behind the injured creature. It needed only a moment to see what had happened, and after an infuriated roar, it brought its foot down onto Doren’s charred body.
The wounded dragon spread its leathery wings and tried to take flight, but the canopy was too thick. It rose no higher than the height of two men before hitting the branches and falling back to the earth with a groan. It flopped over onto its side, shuddered and then lay still. I stayed as quiet as death as I watched, barely allowing myself to breathe. As the living dragon bowed its head, the dead one’s body began to twist and contort in a way that I felt sure had to be snapping its bones. The body shrank, the girth of the creature narrowed and the scaly skin looked like it was melting away, leaving only white flesh behind.
When the transformation was complete, I saw that it was another woman. Doren’s spear stuck grotesquely from her mouth, and the sight made me wish my stomach was still empty. I managed to control my emotions, however, and realized that this was an opportunity I might never have again. The remaining dragon was standing over the woman’s body, head bowed and eyes closed.
Despite its pose, I knew it was still on alert—it would easily hear anyone else approaching—but I was already there and within bowshot of the beast. If I could raise and draw my bow silently, I might be able to kill it. The eyes were closed, but I didn’t imagine the creature’s eyelids could be thick enough to deflect a well-shot arrow.
I began preparing my weapons, balancing speed and silence. I could make no noise at all if I had the time, but I didn’t. At any moment the dragon could end its mourning. I had the arrow nocked to the string and was about to draw it back when my foot scraped ever so slightly against the ground. I hadn’t given myself enough time to attain perfect balance.
The dragon’s eyes shot open, and it narrowed its gaze directly at me. My advantage was gone. In the second I knew it would take for the creature’s body to react to what its eyes were seeing, I drew back the arrow and released it toward the beast. I hit my mark, but my aim was just off. The arrow struck the edge of the armored eye socket and caromed off of it before entering the eye at an angle. I saw a spurt of blood, though, and hoped it had been driven deeply enough to kill the beast.
The dragon raised a claw, ripped the arrow from its eye and shook its head from side to side as it tore at the ground, screaming in pain. For a few precious seconds, its attention was off of me. Could I use them?
I took a deadly risk and sprang from my cover, my spear in hand. I ran at full speed toward the dragon but skidded to a stop as the thing’s good eye flew open and locked my gaze. Its mouth opened, but I was already moving again, running off to my right. I felt the heat as the dragon’s fire chased me into the underbrush, but my caking of mud protected the skin of my back.
My hair was not so lucky. I became aware of the smell before I felt it. I screamed and dropped to the ground, rubbing my burning hair into a puddle of mud to extinguish the flames. The burns on my scalp were slight. I knew it would sting later, but as I felt for injury, the skin under my fingertips was not blistered, only raw.
I had no time to worry about this, though. The dragon was crashing through the trees after me. I still had the advantage of being small; I could move much more quickly through the thick forest in this part of the island. The dragon still might take flight and burn everything around me from the air, but so far it was remaining on the ground. So I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, my ears attuned to the grunting and wailing creature close behind.
&n
bsp; Chapter Eleven
Pursuit
Perhaps it was my own natural speed, or perhaps the dragon’s injury was slowing it, but I managed to stay a comfortable distance ahead of it. I realized, however, that I was heading toward the village—toward open ground. Every time I tried to turn, I lost precious seconds. The dragon seemed to realize this and propelled itself a bit faster whenever I tried to alter course. It wanted me in the open. Even if it found a clearing and took to the air, it might not be able to kill me while I was in the thick brush.
I heard a rumble of thunder overhead and felt a few fat drops of rain on my face and shoulders. Almost before I could acknowledge that the storm had arrived, the clouds released their cargo, and soon I was running through mud and small rivulets of water. Even though I had to step more carefully, I thanked the gods for the downpour. The water soothed my stinging scalp, and the rainfall would act to my advantage if the dragon sent its fire toward me.
The forest began to thin as I neared the village, and I was desperately aware that the dragon was getting closer now that it had fewer trees to snake past. Without looking back, I tried to adjust my position to put the larger trees between me and the creature. This slowed it by perhaps a second at most, but it was better than nothing. I had now seen enough of dragons to know that it took them a moment to breathe in deeply before expelling their flames. The dragon, I believed—I hoped—would have to stop or slow down to take such a breath, and if it did that, I would gain even more ground.
I at last broke free of the forest and reached the edge of the village. I was astonished to find that it had not yet been destroyed. I angled toward the nearest cluster of huts, dropped down behind one of them and peered around its side. I could see the trees shaking as the dragon continued its pursuit. It burst from the forest and stopped just at the edge of the clearing, its one eye scanning the abandoned village. I ducked my head behind the hut and pressed my back against it. I didn’t have my bow, but I still held my spear. If I was going to finish this, I would have to do it face to face. I focused on catching my breath as I heard the dragon begin to move again. It was heading away from me, toward a different cluster of huts.