The Dragon Who Didn't Fly

by C. M. Barrett

  “No indeed.”

  * * *

  Serazina could smell the whisky on Malvern’s breath. “Poor girl, no one could really blame you for hanging out with the wrong animals when you have a father who’s a traitor. If you cooperate, we might be able to get his sentence reduced to life imprisonment. I could argue your father’s case . . . but I wouldn’t unless I had some reason to, some kind of information.”

  “No.”

  He shook his head slowly. “You’re a heartless girl. They’re likely to torture him for the sake of national security, of course. And if that fails, they might cut into his brain. It’s a deep probe. They extract information from the cells, very painful, I hear. They might to that to you, too, especially if you don’t volunteer anything. They’re rigorous over at the House of Healing.”

  “No,” Serazina said, and Malvern moved closer. She wondered if terror would make her vomit on him.

  “I can tell you about something even worse, a terrible drug manufactured in Dolocairn. It blots out portions of the memory. Imagine that. You’d never remember any of our, ah, conversation. You’d forget all this ‘The dragon is our friend’ treachery.”

  The assassin, she thought. Malvern gave the drug to him, and he’ll give it to me. Lady! Save me!

  The response came, cool as green leaves kissed by autumn frost. Save yourself. Shield yourself.

  If only she’d practiced. If only she’d made more use of the mental abilities everyone said were so keen. They felt as sluggish as a debris-choked river.

  Not a river. The ocean, and now I’ve seen it and heard its roar and its hiss, so like Druid’s voice. Dear Druid. I must save him. If I can build a wave that towers over Malvern and keeps me safe, I can go into his mind. If I can learn his plans, I can save the dragon.

  The wave was small at first, a ripple of white far out in the ocean. As it drew closer to the shore, it became swollen and tall, singing in crashing tones the glory of its brief life. And behind it another and another. She darted into his mind.

  His thoughts roiled like a nest of rattlesnakes. What does she know? Has an informer infiltrated my ranks? It doesn’t matter. With the fire and the following chaos, I will be able to overthrow the Guardian. He won’t be much of a player after tonight, and you, young Dolocairner-Etrenzian hybrid, will be killed by a crowd that demands your death for your treasonous association with the dragon.

  * * *

  “Follow me to the clearing where the small cats live!” Gris screeched. “Emergency!”

  “What emergency?” Druid demanded.

  “The girl with a name like a mouthful of feathers has been imprisoned.”

  “Prison, like a cage?”

  “Exactly like that.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Monti said. “I like that girl. And, Druid, I don’t think you’d better fly.”

  Druid thought that someone should do something to make the woods more dragon-friendly, instead of a jumble of stones and vines designed to trip him. At last, he made it to the clearing, where a crowd of cats circled him, awe in their eyes.

  “This alone is worth leaving the city,” Senti said.

  Tara ran to Druid. “You heard about Serazina?”

  He nodded. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

  Tara nodded. “They’re calling it national security. That means she’s a traitor.”

  “Bunch of buttheads in that village,” Monti muttered. “Too bad you’re not a fire dragon. I’m for razing the place to the ground.”

  “I could call the fire dragons, but how would that save Serazina?”

  “Set the prison on fire?” Tara said. “No, she might not get out in time. That would be worse.”

  “The fire dragons could threaten the humans, though. I’ve never seen one, but I imagine they’re very impressive. They could burn down a house or two to get the point across.”

  “Maybe. Druid, I don’t know. None of it sounds exactly right, and it feels like anything that isn’t exactly right will be exactly wrong. All I know for certain is that the closer you are to the village the better. Could we go to the edge of the woods? The trees will conceal you.”

  When she saw the dragon hesitate, she lost her balance. “Druid, they could be hurting her right now! They have terrible tools for that. Who knows, they might even kill her. Maybe you can live with that, but I’m not sitting here any longer. I’ll slip in between the prison bars; I’ll scratch the jailors. I’m one small cat, but I’d rather die than live knowing I never tried.”

  Druid sobbed. “What a water dragon you would have made. I’ve never felt such shame. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Malvern inched closer to Serazina. “Once the villagers hear about you, I’ll have a hard time restraining them. You know how it is. We live on the edge of the dragon’s territory, on the edge of terror. To know that one of their own betrayed them would make them angry and possibly want to hurt someone. Soon a mob will gather outside the jail. All I have to do is to turn you over to them.”

  “You fiend!”

  Berto! She turned her head. He stood in the doorway with the Guardian and Janzi Nor’azzi. Peace officers from the city seized Malvern, and Serazina fainted.

  Frantic cries revived her.

  “Fire! Fire!”

  Was she back in Malvern’s mind? No, she could smell the smoke.

  * * *

  Malvern, with surprising dexterity, squirmed out of his captors’ grip. “I must save our people! The dragon started that fire, and we’re going to kill him at last.”

  He ran out of the lockup, followed by several local peace officers.

  “Seize him!” Phileas roared.

  One officer turned. “Sorry, Guardian, not a chance. He’s going to save Oasis West. We’re going after the dragon.”

  Phileas ran after them, into the crowded square, where people shouted, “Kill the dragon!”

  Malvern Frost stood in the square, protected by armed men. “Guardian, do you see how right I was to interrogate the girl? You can be sure she knew about the dragon’s vile plot to destroy this village. We’ll make both of them pay.”

  Phileas considered his position. He was sure Malvern was lying, but he lacked the forces to overcome the troops surrounding him. The fire had to be his first priority.

  So far, it was limited to one building, but the flames were seeking new fodder in neighboring buildings. The fire chief directed men and women bearing hoses, but the water pressure was so low the jets of water barely reached the flames.

  “Fellow citizens,” Malvern shouted, “Every minute we delay we risk that the dragon will return to strike when we’re at our weakest.”

  If a horde of people marched off with Malvern, few would be left to help put out the fire. Phileas attempted reason.

  “Who saw the dragon do this?”

  “I did,” a man said.

  “So did I.”

  National security, Phileas said to himself and scanned their minds. They were both lying.

  Serazina said, “I saw thoughts of fire in Malvern’s mind.”

  “That girl has lost her own mind,” Malvern said. “That’s what happens when you hang around dragons. We’re losing precious time. Onward!”

  * * *

  Tara sniffed the air. “What’s burning?”

  A cat came dashing from the direction of the village. “I saw humans set a fire. Now they’re blaming the dragon. They’re assembling a group to march here and kill him.”

  “Why do they think I set fires?” Druid demanded. “Why don’t they know I’m a water dragon?”

  A shiver of destiny rippled his scales. No, he thought. It’s too dangerous. They’ll kill me. But the ripple wouldn’t go away. It grew stronger, surging into a wave that filled his wings with strength.

  “I’m going to show them. I’m going to put out the fire,” he said.

  Gris, perched on a branch, said, “That’s very brave, also stupid. I’ll make sure I’m there to cover the event.”

/>   “It may save my friends.” And kill me. And that could bring on the final destruction—not that I’ll care.

  Chapter 25

  Serazina watched Janzi climb on top of a bench and try to get the departing villagers to stop. “If you won’t listen to your Guardian, listen to me. Serazina Clare has seen the dragon. He did her no harm. This is the moment I’ve been talking about all along. If you kill the dragon, you kill your future. Oasis West will be destroyed and eventually the entire country.”

  Romala emerged from a hummer and joined them. “I got your message, Guardian. What can I do?”

  “Organize bucket brigades.”

  What can I do? Serazina asked herself. Only one possibility presented itself. She ran for the fields, hoping to reach the dragon before the mob did.

  Behind her rose the sound of shouting. She glanced behind her. Moonlight glinted off rifle stocks, and voices rose in the quiet night. “Kill the Dragon!”

  Serazina ran faster.

  * * *

  Druid began to worry when he approached the end of the forest. Open fields lay ahead.

  Serazina darted into the woods, followed by breathless Berto.

  “Druid, they’re coming to kill you. How can we stop them?”

  “I was planning to put out their fire,” Druid said. “Any chance of that?”

  “Not at the moment,” Berto said.

  Serazina set her mouth in a firm line. “I’m going to talk to them.”

  * * *

  She looked out at the crowd, bracing herself against the onrush of hatred for the dragon, but she found it greatly diluted with fear, hesitation, and downright reluctance.

  Would have looked bad if I hadn’t come.

  I don’t want people to think I’m an Earther.

  We can’t take any chances—I guess.

  What if we go back and find our village burned to the ground?

  If she could tell them the truth maybe enough people would hear it to prevent the others from marching further.

  Words slipped about in her mouth like smooth-shelled beans. Before she could bite down on any of them, Malvern Frost shook his rifle at her.

  “Out of the way, traitor,” he said. “You’ve tried to destroy us.”

  “I’m trying to save the dragon and all of us.”

  He approached her, his rifle pointed at her chest. “By letting him set fires?”

  “The dragon didn’t set the fire. You did.”

  A flash of terror so brief Serazina thought she’d imagined it crossed Malvern’s face. His usual crafty expression replaced it. “Prove it.”

  “Are you accusing the Councilor of starting the fire?” someone called out.

  A gasp rose from the crowd. Malvern grabbed the collar of her shirt. “That’s slander.”

  “Fellow citizens, didn’t I save the Guardian’s life?” she cried out.

  Voices muttered confirmation. “And didn’t I know that the assassin would strike before anyone else?”

  “You did, and the Guardian honored you for it. You brought pride to our village.”

  “And gave a nice speech about how important we were. I haven’t forgotten that.”

  “Every word was true,” Serazina said. “We are honest, loyal citizens.”

  A few ragged cheers arose.

  “But one person here isn’t.” She pointed to Malvern. “As surely as I knew someone was about to murder the Guardian, I know Malvern Frost organized the setting of the fire. And I can prove that the dragon would never do such a thing.”

  Malvern’s smile dripped acid. “Go ahead. This will be worth seeing.”

  “You have to put your guns down.”

  “Don’t listen to her!” Malvern shouted. “This is a trap.”

  “It isn’t. I can bring the dragon here, into this field, but I won’t until everyone puts their guns down . . . in a pile . . . over there.” She pointed to the end of a row of corn.

  “Why should we?” a few people demanded.

  “Because the dragon can save our village. He isn’t a fire breathing dragon at all; he’s a water dragon.”

  The muttering increased. Water dragon? Did you ever hear of such a thing? Is the girl cracked? She must be loony. A water dragon?

  “Put down your guns, and I’ll prove it,” Serazina said.

  One man put down his gun and walked over the edge of the row to drop it. “I believe her. I want to see this.”

  The others followed his lead, until all but Malvern were weaponless. He shook his head. “No way, little girl.”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth before two farm workers grabbed him, wrestled him to the ground, and sat on him. “Sorry, Mr. Frost,” one said, “but it had to be done.”

  “Go on now,” the other said to Serazina. “Let’s see the dragon.”

  “Druid,” Serazina called. “Come out now.”

  Excited chatter broke out when the dragon appeared.

  “He’s like a giant snake with feet.”

  “A huge lizard.”

  “Look, he’s weeping.”

  “The girl told the truth.”

  * * *

  Satisfied that the bucket brigades were succeeding in at least slowing the spread of the fire, Phileas ran after the dragon killers, hoping that even at the last moment, he might be able to reason with them. He got to the meadow just in time to see the dragon emerge from the forest. He held his breath in awe.

  Nothing he had ever heard had prepared him for the glittering glory of the beast. His scales gleamed in the moonlight like finely cut emeralds, and his mane was even brighter. The creature’s eyes made Phileas gasp. The soft green of jade, they were ringed with starry tears.

  Zena’s words began singing in Phileas’s ears. The world is love made manifest. Join in the dance.

  Rapture strained the boundaries of Phileas’s heart. He was about to run forward when Malvern broke free of his captors and seized his gun.

  “If no one else dares, I will kill the dragon!”

  “No!” Serazina knocked him to the ground, just as she’d tackled the assassin. Phileas ran to the girl’s defense, but before he could reach her, Malvern’s gun went off.

  At the first sight of blood flowering on her shirt, a roar made the trees shake and the grass whip down to touch the ground. The dragon drenched Malvern with gusting water.

  The Councilor staggered to his feet and retched out a stream of water. “It sprayed right in my mouth. Filthy beast, shoot him, someone.”

  “Seize him!” Phileas shouted, and several men wrestled Malvern to the ground. Phileas knelt by Serazina’s side.

  “Be calm.”

  “I am, Guardian. Am I going to die?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “If I do, please don’t let them hurt the dragon.”

  He examined the wound quickly. Because of the close range of fire, the bullet had torn its way through Serazina’s upper chest and out her shoulder. Phileas took off his shirt, ripped it into bandages, and made them into a tourniquet.

  Berto came running over. “Will she be all right?”

  “I think so, but we need to get her into the village, where Romala and Janzi can work with me.”

  “The dragon says he’ll carry her into the village if the people give him safe passage.”

  “You run ahead to warn them.”

  The dragon approached them, his short front legs outstretched. Phileas lifted Serazina, and the beast picked both of them up and cradled them against his chest.

  Phileas had only a second to appreciate how soft the dragon’s scales were, like fine Etrenzian leather, before the dragon flapped his wings and began to fly.

  “The air feels like the sea, with currents and waves,” Serazina said. “Do you think this is what dying is like, floating into the next world?”

  Focusing on healing Serazina kept Phileas from worrying that the dragon would drop them. “It would be better if you don’t think about dying. We want to stop this bleeding. Close your
eyes, and imagine the site of the wound, near your collarbone, and see the blood there getting very thick, almost like a glue that closes the wound. And now your skin is pulling together, closing, joining, and every part of your body where the bullet passed is doing the same, muscles stitching back together, nerves reconnecting, and the wound disappears.” He hoped.

  “And I’m very grateful,” Serazina said, “that Malvern didn’t get to kill the dragon. And I thank the dragon for being so brave and for coming to the village to help the people, and for being my friend, that most of all. And I thank the Green Lady for helping me to see the true world.”

  Once things calmed down a little, Phileas was going to have several long conversations with Serazina. His mind raced with possibilities.

  He saw the village ahead and hoped the dragon knew how to make a soft landing. “Guardian, you might want to start shouting so they know you’re riding the dragon,” Serazina said. “Otherwise, they might be upset.”

  She was right. Already people were screaming, a few picking up rocks. “It is I, your Guardian!” Phileas bellowed. “The dragon has come to put out the fire. Clear the way.”

  People seemed only too glad to disperse.

  “Is that the Clare girl?”

  “And the Guardian?”

  “He isn’t wearing a shirt.”

  “Am I drunk?”

  The dragon landed gently, kneeling down so that Phileas could lower Serazina to the ground. “Romala! Janzi! Serazina has been shot.”

  The women pushed through the crowd, and people began to mutter.

  “Who would do that?”

  “That nice girl who spoke so highly of us? When did she ever harm anyone?”

  “Who shot her?”

  “Malvern Frost,” Phileas said. “We have a crowd of witnesses.”

  “And he had the fire started,” Serazina called out weakly.

  “You stay quiet,” Romala said, placing her hands on the wound. “You’re going to be fine. Your spirit is very strong. Let’s get you to a bed, where you can rest.”

  “No, I’ve got to stay here. I can’t leave the dragon now.”

  * * *

  Druid landed close enough to the fire to be within spraying distance and far enough away from the dry, fiery air caused by the flames. But it wasn’t going to work. He’d used up too much water in assaulting the human who’d shot Serazina, and the heat caused his water supply to evaporate faster than he could replenish it.

  “Dragon clan!” he cried, “come to my aid!”

  He thought he heard an answering cry, but it sounded distant. “I’m going to fail,” he told Serazina, Berto, and the kitten. “I don’t have enough water.”