A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology)

by Jason LaVelle

  I got into a crouching position then slowly eased myself up onto my feet. I risked a peek around the hut. The dragon was facing away from me. Clutching my spear in both hands, I stepped out from behind the hut and took a few steps toward the creature. Thoughts of Laran’s bravery entered my mind, and I realized that this might be my only chance to finish the beast.

  Chapter Twelve

  Confrontation

  The dragon had its head fully inside one of the huts. I wondered why it didn’t just burn the village and me along with it, but perhaps this creature was like the one Laran had killed. Perhaps it wanted to see the terror in my eyes before it murdered me. I could hear it grunting and sniffing, and with a sudden jerk, it pulled its head out of the hut and focused on the next. I resumed my advance as it crept toward whatever had caught its interest. I traveled ten paces before being forced to stop again as the dragon moved to continue its search.

  I glanced down at the rain-streaked mud covering my body. The huts were full of the smells of humans, but I, at the moment, smelled like the forest. If it was relying on scent to track me, I had an advantage. Still, I knew its ears were keen. I took a few more steps, moving as quietly as I could and hoping the noise of the storm would mask my approach. A long, low rumble echoed across the sky, and I used the cover of the sound to dash another ten paces toward my foe.

  I was now close enough to throw the spear if I needed to. I preferred, though, to stab it at close range and ensure injury. The dragon brought its head out of the second hut, and as I readied myself for the confrontation, it arched its back and twisted its head upward. A spray of blood flew from its eye as it did so. So the wound was deeper than I had thought. I now noticed the thin trail of blood along the dragon’s path, quickly being washed away by the rain. Its eye was bleeding freely.

  The dragon let out a sound that could only be a groan of pain. It dropped its head to the ground and left it there, panting. The wounded eye was on my side, and I could see the blood streaming from it. I took another step but froze as the creature’s ears twitched. I was close enough now that any movement would be heard, no matter how hard I tried to be silent. Leaving my fate to chance, I pulled back my spear, readying for a throw. I did not get the chance.

  The dragon’s body flipped around, and the creature began writhing on the ground. I saw it start to contort, and for the second time that day I witnessed an impossible transformation. I stood awe-struck as the dragon reverted to its human form. It was a man, well-built and with sharp, strong features anyone would describe as handsome.

  He lay on his back, his teeth clenched, and brought one hand up to his seeping eye. I still had my spear at the ready, but I hesitated. My reluctance to kill another human being was foolish considering the horrors these people had visited upon us for generations, but something inside of me told me it was wrong to kill a man as he lay injured.

  I brought my spear down and let the end of the shaft strike the ground. He rose up onto his side at the noise and glared at me, anger fighting through the pain. I did not flinch. I had seen how long the transformation took. I could kill him before he reverted to his dragon form.

  I tilted my spear downward and approached him. He began speaking words I did not understand. His tone was hateful at first, but it quickly turned calmer. He was reasoning with me, bargaining for his life. I didn’t need to understand him to know that.

  At last I stood over him, the point of my spear a hand’s breadth from his heart. Still he spoke, in a calm, rational voice. He was trying to put me at ease. I stared down at him, unsure of what to do. I knew that anyone else from the village would tell me to kill him. I also knew that if his position were any different, he would not hesitate to kill me.

  He stopped talking, and we remained quiet for a minute or more, our eyes locked. Thunder cracked above us, and lightning flashed across the sky. The light and noise broke our reverie, and he got up onto his knees, placing his chest against my spear point. He spoke a few cruel, mocking words then stared at me, the pain still twisting his face every few seconds. He was daring me to kill him, to become a murderer, to give in to the same brutality that he and his kind had visited upon my people.

  When I still did not respond, he let out a yell that would have woken the dead. At last I acted. I jumped away and pulled my spear back, ready to thrust it into his heart. Struggling through what I could tell was unimaginable pain, his face began to take on a serpentine aspect. He was trying to transform.

  I did not want to kill a man, but now he had solved my problem for me. As his body began to lengthen and his skin turned scaly, I shot my arm forward. Without releasing the shaft, I drove the spearhead into his chest and put my weight behind it, forcing it all the way through his body until it burst forth from his back.

  The transformation ended immediately, and a moment later I released the spear as a man, not a monster, dropped to the ground in front of me. I also fell. The thrill of the battle had kept me upright until now, but with my foe dead, all energy left my body. I lay down on the ground, turned toward the man, wondering how he had come to this. In death, these dragons were human beings. To my mind, that meant that this was their original, natural form.

  In spite of myself, I drifted off into a deep sleep. I awoke sometime in the afternoon. The storm had moved on, leaving the air smelling clean. One of my fellow hunters had found me and dragged me into a nearby hut, and he was sitting over me as I stirred. The explanation that followed took some time to be completely understood, but when it was, he went to tell the others at the caves that the danger had passed. I crawled to my parents’ hut and fell back asleep. I did not awake again until dusk, and it was Rina who I first saw as I opened my eyes.

  My various wounds had been cleaned and dressed, but mud still streaked much of my body. Even so, Rina threw herself atop me as I awakened and covered my face with kiss after loving kiss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wild Rage

  My parents came to see me when they heard that I was awake, but they left soon after. I don’t know where they stayed that night, but they left me alone with Rina. She fed me and washed me. Then, as the sky darkened, she undressed and lay down, tucked up against my side. The warmth and softness of her body made me forget my burns and bruises, and we gently made love as the village grew quiet. I lay atop her after we had finished, kissing her now and then and trying to forget everything I had seen.

  But I could tell there were questions on Rina’s lips. At last I rolled off of her and settled down onto the mat at her side, my arm around her waist. “You want to know?” I asked.

  I felt her head nod against my shoulder.

  I told her about the dragons landing on the beach, about Ciren killing one of them, and about him and Sashan dying to fire shortly thereafter. I told her about finding the dead woman on the sand and about Doren killing the second dragon before also being killed. But I paused as I began to tell her about the chase toward the village. In the darkness I saw the one good eye of the man I had killed, I saw the hate—the rage. His anger seemed to reach out to me from beyond death, and I took in a deep, shuddering breath.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I took another breath. “I just wonder how they got that way,” I lied.

  “There are stories of shape changers.”

  I shook my head. “No, not that. I wonder how they became murderers. Cannibals. Where did that desire come from?”

  “Perhaps they cannot control themselves when they’re in that form.”

  “The one I killed… the one whose body you saw… even when he turned into a man, the bloodlust remained. He tried to reason with me; he tried to talk his way out of death. But the whole time I could see it in his eye. He fooled me for a moment, but now I realize that it never fully left him. Man or dragon, it is who he was. It’s who any one of us can become if we let it happen.”

  Rina could sense what I was feeling. “You had to kill him,” she whispered. “You had no choice.”

  �
�I know. And I think he wanted it. He knew he was dying, but he wanted me to kill him rather than let him slowly bleed to death. Up until his very last breath, his only thoughts were of violence. Still, those other dragons he was with—the women—did he love one of them? Both of them? Did they have children?”

  Rina threw an arm across my chest and pulled me closer. “You can’t think these thoughts.”

  “No, I do. Because that’s what makes me know that I could never be like him. Most men will kill if they have to, but how they feel afterward is what separates the good from the bad. The ones who don’t care—who don’t feel remorse—are the monsters. And maybe if they enjoy it too much they become real monsters. Maybe they become something other than human.” I held my breath after I said those words. I didn’t know where that thought had come from.

  Rina seemed unaware of the chill that had run down my spine. “Do you think that’s what made those people that way?” she asked.

  I swallowed hard. “I think anything is possible. He tried to make me kill him in anger. He tried to make me like it… want it.”

  “But you didn’t?”

  I opened my mouth to answer but closed it again. In my mind, I saw the lightning flash as he began to transform; I saw the head of my spear puncture his bare chest; I saw the life dim from his good eye as he fell. The memory of it sent my pulse racing, and my muscles tensed as they readied for action. I couldn’t tell Rina that a part of me hadn’t enjoyed it. I didn’t want to lie to her a second time. But I had to tell her something.

  I gave her a squeeze and bent my neck to kiss her. “All I want now,” I said, “is to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  She sighed, and I felt her warm breath drift across my chest. I stared up at the dark roof of the hut, letting the lights in my eyes dance. Those flashes of color took on a serpentine form, and I pinched my eyes shut, trying to destroy the illusion.

  Rina’s breathing slowed, and I knew she was asleep. I tried to join her, but even as exhausted as I was, I could not calm my mind. Again and again I saw the man’s face as he died, again and again I saw the blood run from his chest and mix in with the rain. I wondered where his body was now. Where had the others taken it after returning to the village?

  I carefully slid off of the sleeping mat and found one of my loincloths. I put it on then stepped out of the hut and looked around. There was a large fire in the center of the village, but where I was, it was dark. I made my way back to the spot where I’d had my final encounter and saw the trail where the man’s body had been dragged through the mud. I followed it to the edge of the forest and found him behind a bush, flat on his back.

  Someone had slit open his throat for good measure, and in the starlight I glanced over his bloodied face and chest. I knelt down next to him and placed my hand over the spear wound. “Why?” I whispered. “Why did you make me?”

  His stiff, open mouth mocked me in its silence. I pulled my hand away from his cold flesh and stood. In the far distance, I heard a low rumble of thunder. It turned into the roar of a dragon in my mind, and the white body at my feet seemed to shift in the darkness, to grow long and scaly. A wild rage rose up inside my chest, and I had an urge to tear him apart with my teeth and nails. I wanted to taste his blood on my tongue and feel his entrails sliding between my fingers. I wanted death; I wanted slaughter; I wanted fire. I pushed back against the impulse and stumbled away. I blinked my eyes, looked back at the corpse and immediately felt ashamed. The man was still a man; he was still dead.

  As I made my way back to the hut where Rina slept, I realized that I would never be free of this compulsion. I would never forget how it felt to thrust my spear through his chest. I would always remember the violence and the obscene pleasure of the act. But such pleasure was wrong; it was unnatural. I had to remind myself of that if I didn’t want to become like those creatures. I had to resist, lest this raw brutality turn me into something other than a man—something cruel; something grotesque; something I knew I would never be able to contain.

  About Michael K. Rose

  Michael K. Rose is a fantasy, paranormal and science fiction author. He holds a bachelor’s degree in Anthropology from Arizona State University and currently resides in the Phoenix area.

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  Also Available

  The Sullivan Saga

  Sullivan’s War (Book 1)

  Sullivan’s Wrath (Book 2)

  Sullivan’s Watch (Book 3)

  Sullivan’s Blood (Book 4)

  Sullivan’s Reign (Book 5)

  Sullivan’s Fire (Book 6)

  Omnibus 1 (Collecting Books 1-3)

  Omnibus 2 (Collecting Books 4-6)

  The Strange Lands Saga

  The City Beyond the Sands (Book 1)

  Riders of the Red Land (Book 2)

  The Sea Dragons (Book 3)

  Omnibus (Collecting Books 1-3)

  The Emberlyn Chronicles

  The Lion’s Crown (Book I)

  Other Novels

  Provocation

  Chrysopteron

  Darkridge Hall

  A Fire Dragon Love Story

  The Dragon Realm

  Soaring high above the mountain peak, letting the current guide him, Dax gazed out beyond the island’s edge into the vast expanse of ocean. The world beyond begged him to explore with the promise of adventure, but the law of his people forbade those childish fantasies. Thousands of years before, his people, the Dragonkin, had been scattered to the wind by overwhelming human forces. His colony, believing they were the last of their kind, had survived through isolation.

  Humans lived in the great beyond, savage creatures ruled by their own destructive instincts and lust for power. Dangerous beings that spread like a plague to every corner of the world, they threatened all creatures big and small that dared to cross their paths.

  Angry clouds gathered on the horizon, ominous gray masses that blocked out the sun as they merged, plotting a torrential downpour for anything that dared cross into their territory. Flashes of lightning striking the water highlighted a curiosity trying to navigate the rough airways. Far in the distance, almost too tiny to make out at first, Dax spotted it – another winged creature.

  His keen eyes soon focused on the beast struggling in the distance. But unlike him, that beast reflected the lightning’s glow with a stiff metal body. Wings of steel jutted out from either side, but they neither flapped nor bent to use the currents to maneuver.

  Dax beat his own wings and rode the wind, watching with interest as the metal creature fought its way through the storm.

  Filled with life though it was, the beast was not itself a living being, despite roaring with an angry voice that could be heard for miles around. In its wake, it left trails in the sky like ghostly clouds but produced no rain.

  Human made. Human driven. Legends spoke of their jealousy of the Dragonkin. Unable to change form or take to the air, they created things to do the work for them.

  In spite of their savagery, the creativity of humans had to be admired.

  A sudden shift in the air sent Dax into a dive. He beat his massive wings a few times and picked up speed before spreading them again and catching the current once more. Gliding in a wide arc, he headed for the beach.

  A boisterous laugh rumbled like thunder, followed by the voice of his friend Ramos. “You fly like a hatchling when you see those airforce-ones”

  Dax glanced left and caught sight of shimmering green scales. He and Ramos had been in the same nest, part of the same hatchling group. More than friends, they were as close as brothers, and inseparable for most of their lives until it had been time for their colony dutie
s to be assigned.

  Built long and lean, Ramos had always been the better flier. Taking to the sky was instinctual for their breed, but he could maneuver through hurricanes with ease and had speed unmatched by any drake Dax had ever known. Dax had always secretly thought Ramos part wyvern, but would never insult his brother by saying so out loud.

  Where Ramos had the gift of flight, Dax had been given the opposite. Lacking grace of flight but more than making up for it with pure muscle mass, Dax had been assigned to the Peacekeepers, where his colony felt he had been naturally suited.

  Claws on the ground, guarding the temples and acting as security during trading days with the wyverns and Hydra clans, Dax often gazed up longingly when the Air Guard flew over. They were the few who were permitted to leave the island and have real adventures.

  “You’ve seen those an airforce-ones up close – how do they move with stationary wings?” Dax beat his own massive wings to punctuate his question, and angled toward the beach for a landing.

  Ramos laughed again. “I could ask the same of you. Flying for nearly a hundred years and you’re still just as stiff as a newly hatched Wyrmling.”