by Adam Carter
“Only because you told me to.”
Arowana stopped arguing. She felt he was perhaps pressing the issue because they were about to die and he figured he should be right for once in his life. The dragon continued to circle.
“How did you beat it last time?” she asked in a whisper.
“We ran away.”
“I think we should run away.”
“I think you’re right.”
With a mighty roar, the dragon swooped down to attack. They dived to either side and the great beast passed between them so closely that Arowana tumbled across the ground. A single flap of its immense wings was causing storms all by itself: it was as though the storm god of Valetudo had at last been given form. She watched it take to the air again and come back to them in a lazy circle. The dragon had no need to be quick about anything, for it knew by its size and sheer power it had already won this fight.
“Iris,” Hawthorn called, “there’s nowhere to run to.”
She looked around, but Hawthorn was right. Short of diving into the trench, she could hardly see a way out for them.
With a bellow, the dragon came around for another pass.
Hawthorn waved his arms frantically and was jumping up and down. She was about to shout over to him, to ask him what he thought he was playing at, but he caught the dragon’s attention and it dived straight for him. Turning, Hawthorn ran as fast as he could in a straight line across the land.
Watching him go, Arowana wished they had discussed the plan beforehand. Then she ran after the dragon.
Hawthorn did not get far, for the dragon was too swift. Thumping as it landed, the dragon sent a small quake through the land, enough to unsettle its fleeing target. Hawthorn fell on his face, rolled over and fought to rise, but the dragon loomed above him in confidence.
Arowana did not stop running. The dragon had its back to her and all its focus was on Hawthorn, but she knew if she stopped to think through her strategy, she was going to change her mind. The dragon’s thick tail lay before her, the spines along its back being small towards the tip and only thickening once they reached the main body. The tail was unmoving, being dragged along behind the beast as would a crocodile’s. As the dragon reared its head to bellow its triumph over Hawthorn, it was paying no attention at all to the other insect.
Arowana leaped, her foot landing solidly on the tail of the dragon. She almost fell, but was running so fast she managed to grab one of the smaller spines towards the end of the tail. From there, she reached for the next and half-ran, half-clambered her way to its back. The wings unfurled, possibly as a reaction to her, but she clung to a spine and was able to avoid being blown off by the sudden gust of wind they created. Long before it would have been safe to do so, she pushed on, lost her footing and slid the remainder of the way down its back.
Her arms struck the spines as she passed, her face hit one with such intensity that she almost lost consciousness, but within moments she had stopped, the breath knocked out of her as she collided with the base of the dragon’s long, thick neck.
She could see Hawthorn on the ground below, half-sitting, and gave him a little wave. She blamed that on her groggy head, perhaps even the terror, for as she looked up she reasoned there was nothing playful about the situation.
The dragon craned its long neck so it could stare down at her with its reptilian eyes. Arowana did not like to anthropomorphise but it really did look as though the dragon was saying, ‘OK, you’re on my back. So, what’s your next move?’
Arowana winced and offered it a little wave.
Snorting its derision, the dragon jerked its bulk and Arowana was almost flung off its neck. It tried again, but she clamped her arms about one of its spines and clung on as tightly as she could. Annoyed now, the dragon bucked like a stereotypical bronco, and Arowana’s head swam with confusion while bile rose in her throat. She did not, however, let go.
Its amusement having vanished, the dragon pushed down into the ground with its forefeet and propelled itself backwards. Extending its wings, the beast took flight, caught the near-perpetual winds of Valetudo and sailed high into the sky.
Arowana watched the dwindling form of Hawthorn as he shouted at her. Perhaps he was telling her to let go, but it was already far too late for that.
With the wind blasting her face and streaking through her hair, Arowana held on for dear life as the dragon pushed against the storm. The beast dropped so suddenly that Arowana feared it had died on the wing, but when it pulled up right before it would have struck the ground, she realised it was trying to dislodge her. Folding its wings, it corkscrewed upwards through the air before plunging again, although still did Arowana hold on.
Sooner or later, the dragon was going to succeed and Arowana would lose her grip. She was already on the verge of losing the fine stew Hawthorn had made, but her life was somewhat more important. She had to think of a way to defeat a dragon. Closing her eyes, she accessed the Securitarn database, but it proved all but useless. The problem was that dragons were not real so she had to delve into mythology in order to understand them. She found there were supposedly two types of dragon: the eastern and the western.
The eastern dragon was lithe and long, able to control the weather and was generally seen as a benevolent force. They were also deities and often didn’t have wings, yet could still fly. Their origins likely came through the discovery of prehistoric fossils, for China sat on quite possibly the Earth’s greatest concentration of dinosaur bones.
The western dragon was evil, with great wings and a penchant for kidnapping and devouring virgins. They hoarded gold, like reptilian magpies, and the Bible hated them. The word had connotations with Satan and even the name Dracula came from Dracul, meaning dragon.
In both cultures, there were tales of dragons being intelligent, able to communicate through speech or thought, so she reasoned she could give that a go.
“Hey, Mr Dragon, sir?” she tried, but the dragon did not respond.
It had been worth a try.
Her problem was that beyond mythology there was no sure way to defeat a dragon. Beowulf had someone’s help against the one he’d faced, Daniel slew one by giving it poisoned food, while George defeated his dragon by making it wear a girdle. Other methods used included laying traps of food, shining light in their eyes or using a DragonLance. She double-checked that last one, but disregarded it since it wasn’t from myth or legend, but fiction.
Since dragons did not exist, however, they could all well have been described as fiction and Arowana gave up.
Just as the dragon plunged into yet another dive, something popped into Arowana’s head. It was the story of Tokoyo, who killed a divine dragon named Yofune-Nushi. The dragon was demanding girls to be sacrificed to it, else it would cause terrible storms which would kill all the local fishermen. Tokoyo had gone after the dragon armed only with a knife and had stabbed the thing in the eye, then the heart.
“Idiot,” Arowana said, referring to herself, not Tokoyo. She had risked death by clinging to the dragon while searching history for a means to defeat the beast, and in doing so had never thought to just stab the thing in the eye.
“Idiot,” she repeated and tried to think of what she might have which was sharp, for she did not of course carry a knife. Then an idea struck her and she pushed aside all her research to concentrate on her foe.
Sifting through the database had been accomplished at the speed of thought, which was the only reason Arowana was still alive.
The winds were still buffeting her face as Arowana reached out to grab the spine above her. She did not like to release even one hand from the spine she was holding, but needed to use them as a ladder to reach the head of the beast. The dragon, thankfully, did not seem aware of her plan, for it continued to dive and rise, twist and turn, all without paying her any attention at all. Arowana moved when she could, stayed when she needed to, and after several minutes had made it halfway up the dragon’s neck. Her muscles were screaming, her body was on th
e verge of collapse, and she knew she would have to reach its head soon or she would simply let go.
Forcing herself to reach out again, Arowana timed her movements badly, for the dragon chose that moment to dive. With only one hand holding on, her grip was torn away and Arowana tumbled down its neck. Her back, her arms, her head struck the spines as she passed, and she expected at any moment to see the dragon pull away as she plummeted to her doom. Instead, she slammed into its head and almost threw up as the breath was knocked from her.
It took her a few moments to work out that since the dragon was diving, it meant when she had fallen down, she had actually fallen up the neck and had ended precisely where she wanted to be.
The dragon’s head was bowl-shaped and scaled, the two bat’s-wing-frilled ears far larger up close than she had expected. The frills were formed by the thick armour of the beast shooting out in three lances, connected by a membrane which was so thick it was no doubt almost impossible to pierce. Grabbing onto the side of one of these frills, Arowana thrust herself forward and clamped her thighs about it. She could hear the dragon snort in derision at her antics and was close enough to feel the warm heat emanate from its nostrils and throat. Strangely enough, there was no odour, no scent at all of any meals it had recently consumed.
It shook its head but Arowana held on firm. She could see the rim of its eye, for there was thick segmented protection about each orb. Taking a breath and holding it, Arowana threw herself away from the frill and caught hold of the rim with both hands. Hauling herself up, she swung her right arm about in the most vicious attack an exhausted woman could make. Her fist struck the dragon’s eye and plunged through.
It was sticky, thick and cold, like wading through stale porridge. The dragon roared in pain and fury, shook its head frantically, and Arowana was finally dislodged. Her arm came out of the dragon’s eye with an audible plop and she went hurtling through the air. She struck the ground and rolled, thankful the dragon had at that point been only a few feet from the ground. Her life had been saved by pure luck, yet as she looked into the sky, she realised it had not been saved yet.
Landing, the dragon tilted back its head, bellowed once, and lunged. Her energy spent, her heart about ready to burst, Arowana fell to her backside and raised her arms before her.
The dragon’s snout struck the ground beside her, sending waves of dust into the air. It was in far too much pain to attack. Sitting beside it, staring into the ruin of its eye, Arowana was humbled. Here was a beast whose head was larger than her entire body, and she had the audacity to think she had a right to cause it irreparable harm. The dragon looked out at her with its one good eye and she could see its rage falling away. In that moment, the two of them understood one another. They were both mighty in their own right and both had at last had enough.
“Iris! Iris!”
Hawthorn dropped by her side. His eyes were wild, there was panic to his face, and Arowana felt only annoyed.
“I’m fine,” she snapped. “Stop fussing.”
“Caring isn’t fussing.”
She pushed away his assistance and slowly approached the dragon. It lay calmly, the rise and fall of its chest the clearest indication it was still alive. Its eye was a ruined mess, and between the seal of the lids there oozed a gloppy clear goo. There was something in the other eye, though, something more than just an affinity.
“We need to get to the bottom of the trench,” she said calmly.
“I know,” Hawthorn said. “Beth could be down there and …”
“Gordon, please.”
“Please what? Iris, are you talking to the dragon?”
She had not taken her gaze off the beast’s good eye and could see mild amusement in its face. Or, she corrected, she could sense its mild amusement, for the face did not move at all. She thought back to those stories of dragons communicating via thought. Perhaps there was some truth to the tales, after all.
“Our friend could be down the trench,” she continued gently. “A crazed killer robot may have taken her down there and we need to follow. CKRs shouldn’t exist, but then neither should dragons.”
The dragon did not react but she could have sworn she detected a twinkle to its eye.
“Gordon,” she said, still not looking at him, “you know you want me to trust you more?”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“Trust goes both ways.”
“I’m really not going to like this.”
“I think if we get on its back, the dragon will take us down.”
Hawthorn took her by the shoulder and turned her round. Breaking eye contact with the dragon was almost painful and Arowana shook off Hawthorn’s hand.
“Iris, you’re losing it.”
“What’s your answer? Rope and a torch?”
“Right.”
“Do we have rope?”
“No.”
“Do we have a torch?”
“No.”
“My way is riding a dragon. Do we have a dragon?”
Hawthorn hesitated. “Yes.”
Arowana folded her arms in silence.
“Fine,” Hawthorn said, although it was clear he wasn’t happy. “Always have to be right. How could anyone win an argument when the choices are torch and rope or a dragon?” He walked past her and grabbed one of the spines. Hauling himself onto the dragon’s neck, he said, “You coming or what?”
Stifling a smile, Arowana accepted the hand he was offering her. She did not know why, but it always made her happy to see Hawthorn grouchy. It was, after all, the way he was meant to be.
Sitting comfortably on the back of the dragon, Arowana and Hawthorn began the strangest journey of their lives. With Hawthorn’s hands around her waist, Arowana was incredibly glad they were able to experience it together.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The journey did not take long. With the whole moon only one kilometre in diameter, Hawthorn knew the trench could not be too deep. Soaring down on the back of a dragon was the most bizarre thing he had ever done. The wings of the great beast were spread out either side as they caught the updrafts, while the incredible bulk of the creature did not seem to hamper it at all. It rose into the air, did a loop-the-loop and corkscrewed down into the trench. Within moments, it had broken through the storm and emerged into an incredible area of Valetudo, something which Hawthorn had never before believed could exist.
The ground was carpeted with grass, with flowers reaching out invitingly to bees buzzing merrily in their droves. There were no trees, but bushes and other plants were everywhere. The heat and light of an unseen artificial sun beat down upon the fields, while a gentle breeze ruffled the grass. Rabbits frolicked in the greenery, while foxes yawned lazily as they basked in the heat. He even saw what appeared to be deer grazing in the distance.
The valley was as wide as he could see, which was bizarre since the whole moon was so small.
Dropping gently to the ground, the dragon lowered its head and its two stunned passengers disembarked.
“This isn’t happening,” Arowana said, as wide-eyed as Hawthorn.
He reached over and pinched her. She yelped and pulled back her fist.
“Whoa, whoa,” Hawthorn said, holding up his hands. “Iris, this moon is really beginning to bug me.” The heat was so intense he had to shield his eyes as he scanned for a source. “I can’t see anything. The storm’s still up there, but all I can see are blue skies and fluffy white clouds.”
“What can’t you see?”
“Aside from the storm?”
“Yes.”
Hawthorn shrugged. “A lot. Unicorns.”
“Not that it would surprise me if there were unicorns up in the clouds, I meant what can you not see in the sky that you’d expect to?”
Hawthorn thought a moment. Then it came to him. “Jupiter. There’s no sign of Jupiter. But Jupiter’s always there. You can’t go anywhere in this system without seeing Jupiter.”
“What do you think the reason for
that is?”
“We’re dead. We died in the storm and this is the afterlife.”
“Close.”
“Close? That was close?”
“We could be in the Underworld. Or, at least, underground.”
“Underground?” He looked back to the sky. “There are clouds up there.”
Before he could say anything else, the dragon pushed itself off the ground and took flight. It went straight up and disappeared in the only region of the sky which looked vaguely dark and out of place.
“Well, there goes our ride out of here,” Hawthorn muttered.
“That dark patch,” Arowana said. “I think that’s the only route out of this trench. The rest of the blue sky could be the ceiling.”
“So you’re saying we’re in a cavern?”
“I’m saying this land stretches far longer than it should, which would only make sense if we’re underground. This moon could be in layers, perhaps that’s how they terraform smaller moons, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Can’t you look it up?”
“I could, but I don’t care to because what I said makes sense. I don’t have to verify my theories with Securitarn.”
Hawthorn decided he had upset her so went along with it. “If you’re right … what am I saying?”
“Go on. I could be wrong.”
“And you could be the reincarnation of Kylie Minogue.”
“Who?”
“Since you’re probably right,” Hawthorn said, “I’m assuming the terraforming process for Valetudo went even weirder than anyone thought. It didn’t sort out the surface, but turned the interior into paradise. At least this explains why the surface has a few animals and plants on it. Where’d the animals and plants come from, though?”
“I don’t know much about terraforming. I’m assuming it not only makes the surface and atmosphere habitable, but seeds the moon with life. Anyway, that’s not the issue here. We have no way out of this valley and we still have to find Beth. If Borissa came down here, we’re going to have to deal with that, too.”
“I don’t see any footprints. No rabbits blasted to oblivion.”