When We Were Dragons

by Brandon Berntson

  What had Lane done? I made a silent vow to both her and Tor-Latress. No matter what happened, I would imprison them in a silent, eternal darkness until the end of time. I would roast them slowly over open flames, shadow or no. Watching this family now and thinking about Lane brought out the wrathful side of me, and I could barely control it.

  The woman replied the best way she knew how. I felt a tug at my breast on how she was going to explain it. By the looks on the girls’ faces, I knew they understood what had happened already, but didn’t quite grasp the situation.

  “I…I think so, Charlie,” the mother said, as honestly as she could.

  “Dad,” the boy said in a feeble voice, looking at the house, and began to cry.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Karen asked.

  The woman looked at her, as if praying, wishing we could do something. Reverse time, prevent any of this from happening. Give them back their father. It was a useless statement, a hopeless statement, but it was the only one Karen knew.

  The woman shrugged. “We were taking a walk while he was…making a surprise dessert for all of us, and then…” She shook her head and started crying.

  “Mom,” the taller girl said, putting her hand on her arm, but the girl said no more.

  We could find her a home, someplace warm, and get them fed, I thought. It wasn’t an offer. The only way to make sense of the collision was to begin by mending things as quickly as possible. With this woman and her children, that was exactly what I wanted to do.

  I walked up, putting out my hand, which seemed the oddest thing in the world. “Justin Silas of Amberlye. This is Karen of Delayne. We’re from Paramis.”

  The woman’s eyes grew larger. The tension and grief disappeared from her face, if only for a second. She looked like she was about to cry again. This was a strong woman, I thought. A nurturing, beautiful woman who lived for nothing but her family, and now, her family had been torn apart.

  “Paramis?” she said.

  “Our world,” I said. Her hand was soft, but cold. She didn’t want to let go, despite my massive red paw. “Before our worlds collided.”

  “Collided?” she asked, seeming to grow more frustrated. These words meant nothing to her.

  Poor woman, I thought. Lost husband, lost house, strange, talking dragons towering over her. What next?

  “I don’t quite know myself,” I said. “There was a collision, some strange event. Somehow, our worlds came together.”

  She let go of my hand and introduced herself:

  “I’m Holly Underhill,” she said. “These are my children: Charlie,” she said, indicating the boy, “Jody,” the shorter, younger girl, “and Mellicent.”

  “Sorry we had to meet under such circumstances,” Karen said.

  The woman nodded and turned back to the house.

  Two races of people from light years apart, standing together in a very awkward, very confusing moment.

  “We should see if we can find a place for you to stay, at least for now,” I said.

  Holly nodded, and I noticed Charlie looking at us in awe.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  Jody and Mellicent giggled. I looked at them and tried to smile without scaring them.

  “Charlie!” Holly said. “That’s not polite.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I looked down at Charlie, a small boy, but his eyes brimmed with liquid wonder, large, curious eyes.

  “We’re dragons,” I said, and Charlie’s eyes opened wider.

  “But you don’t have wings,” he said.

  Karen laughed beside me.

  “Not at present,” I said. “Only when we need them.”

  Charlie looked perplexed, then smiled.

  “I’ll show you sometime,” I said. “Okay?”

  “Cooool,” he said. For the moment, it seemed to be the end of it.

  We left the ruined structure behind, in search of a new home for Holly and her children.

  Little did I realize then how this family would begin to shape all our lives.

  ~

  We found her a house in a newer, suburban development, a white, modern structure, two-stories high. The place was unoccupied, a house which hadn’t been sold yet (nor would it). It was a big, empty place without furniture, larger than what they needed, I assumed, but a fireplace in the living room made it attractive, and there was plenty of room for all of us. I went in search of some logs, came back with an armload, and set them on the hearth, positioning them into the fireplace. Not realizing what I was doing, I leaned over and breathed on them, setting fire to them. Charlie was watching all this from behind me, and he jumped up and down in excitement when the logs caught.

  “Wow! Wow!” he cried. “Do it again! Do it again!”

  I shook my head.

  “If I do it again,” I said. “I’ll set the whole house on fire.”

  Karen and I decided to roam around for a bit, and got our first taste of modern America. After Holly and the kids were nestled and snug, we took to the streets. Holly had mentioned some items they could use, describing them to me, and where I could find them. In a nearby department store, which was being heavily ransacked, we found some pillows, sleeping bags, and food to get them through the next few days. People from our world and Earth moved in and out of the store, filling grocery carts with various items: batteries, flashlights, lamps, food, water, propane, stoves, clothes, and other items. In some strange way, they were coming together, at least the people here. Many of them ignored us for the most part, too busy with their own needs. Maybe they realized we were harmless since none of us attacked or made trouble. One old man, wearing a black and red-checkered hat nodded to us, saying, “Better get what you can before it’s gone. Nice to meet you folks.” Karen and I exchanged a bewildered glance, and shrugged. Odd times, indeed!

  We had too much stuff to carry, so we simply pushed the carts all the way back to Holly’s house. I marveled over the simplicity of the shopping cart the whole way home, as if it were the most convenient invention in history. We found out we were in a place called Broomfield, Colorado, a town of roughly thirty thousand with a view of the Rocky Mountains to the west. Although, I thought a shadow of LaSie was visible in those hills.

  They were grateful to see us when we came back, and Holly put her hands to her face in surprise as we unloaded the carts of food and other sundry items. After we put everything away—most of it dry goods because the refrigerator was inoperable—we sat on the floor of the spacious living room and lit several candles. Mellicent, Jody, and Charlie munched from a box of crackers, spreading cheese carefully onto each one. Holly said we’d arrived a month before Christmas, that snow had been on the ground before. After the collision, all the snow had disappeared. I told her it was summer on Paramis during the collision, and it must’ve—with the two seasons—settled for spring, because it was growing green and warm outside.

  “So, what is Paramis?” Holly asked. A vacuous look crossed her face, trying to register what had happened: her husband gone, she and her children now forced to live in a strange, incredulous world.

  “Paramis is a primitive land peopled by mortals, Old Ones, and dragons.”

  “You don’t look like dragons,” Charlie said.

  Mellicent and Jody looked at Karen and me in skeptical wonder.

  “We can shift,” I said.

  “Like a transformation?” Holly asked.

  I nodded. “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t want to scare the children.”

  “I want to see you shift!” Charlie said, excitedly.

  Mellicent and Jody smiled at Charlie.

  “Maybe later,” I said.

  Charlie looked crestfallen.

  “So, what happens now?” Holly asked.

  I looked at her for a long time, shook my head, and thought about how I was going to answer. I didn’t have an answer, I realized. In front of the children, I didn’t want to mention Lane or Tor-Latress.

  I shrugged. “Find a way to get things w
orking again,” I said. “The Old Ones will figure something out, I’m sure. But for now, it’s not so bad.”

  Charlie broke the thought with visions of his own. “So, there are more dragons?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Many more,” I said, smiling. “But we’re not harmful.”

  A lie, I realized, thinking of Lane.

  I looked at Karen, and she had the same thought, I saw, the look in her eyes.

  “We’re not frightening you, are we?” I asked.

  I thought back to the barn, our meeting around the fire, and how devilish Louis and Cullen looked, how evil I must’ve appeared with my cauldron-colored skin, thick black hair, black nails in the candlelight. How could I not terrify them?

  “No,” Holly said, sounding unconvinced. “It’s just…I don’t know…amazing. It’s hard to believe. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, that none of this is happening. But…it’s just too real. I’m aware of how real it is. I just…don’t know how this could’ve happened.”

  I looked at her, a beautiful, robust, healthy woman, and for some reason, I saw her for who she was: strong, but sensitive, able to be broken but in possession of an unwavering resilience. On the outer surface, she was a fearless mother who’d sacrifice whatever she needed for the safety of her children, and unfortunately, harm had befallen them; it had taken her husband. Since Karen and I had arrived, she’d not said anything except what she’d told us in front of the house, and whatever pain she felt, she kept to herself. When I looked at her, she seemed on the verge of losing control, and I could tell she needed some time to accept what had happened, what had happened to her husband. She needed to be alone for a while.

  “There’s only one way it could’ve happened,” I said.

  They looked at me, eyebrows raised.

  “Magic,” I said.

  I expected them to scoff, but they didn’t. Charlie smiled wide. How else did it explain the world around us? He looked at Holly. “See, Mom,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  Holly smiled, the first genuine smile I’d seen, proud that Charlie had been right, and she’d been wrong, perhaps. The thought actually seemed to please her.

  Holly still thought about her husband, no doubt, wondering why the magic hadn’t saved him. She confirmed it a second later, voicing it aloud without realizing: “Couldn’t save him,” she mumbled.

  I saw tears in her eyes, and she noticed my looking at her.

  Karen went to Holly, putting her pale blue arms around her shoulders. Holly responded and threw her arms around Karen, suddenly sobbing into her chest. Karen whispered some words of comfort, then pulled away, smiling at Holly.

  “Mom,” Charlie said. “What’s wrong?”

  Mellicent was quick to give the perfect answer:

  “Mom’s just glad we found someone to take care of us for a while, Charlie” she said. I looked at her, surprised by her sagacity. Mellicent looked at me and smiled, and I gave her a nod.

  Holly pulled away from Karen and apologized.

  “Don’t be silly,” Karen told her.

  Holly wiped her eyes with both hands. She tried to smile, and her beauty hit me all at once. I’d never seen a woman look as beautiful through grief as Holly did in that moment. Dignity and reserve were visible on her face, and I felt an immense wave of responsibility for all of them, the reason for our origin perhaps. I understood why we’d met them, what we were here for. I wanted to take care of them and provide all I could. For some bizarre reason, I felt a warm, swelling of emotion. Hours ago, we woke from darkness, confused, bewildered, awed. Already, I was anxious to put my life on the line for Holly and her children. It was strange, something I did not remotely understand. I loved Karen deeply, and I would give my life for her, but I’d never felt a surge of paternal love as I did for Jody, Mellicent, Charlie, and Holly Underhill in that moment. It hurt and surprised me at the same time—still does, even as I write this. It was the first day on this new world, and a lot had happened. We were not dragons, breached by time and space, worlds away in forgotten lands. Holly and her children were, in their own right, no different than us. It was outlandish, confounding, and wonderful at the same time. In the span of hours, two completely different beings had come together. We had awoken from the collision only moments ago. We had talked to Dilla-dale, and he had told us all he could.

  But here now, with Holly and her children, we had found something extremely invaluable.

  We had found a family.

  3.

  Coming Together

  Already, in the short time, I missed Paramis terribly, the Forests of Glammis, the Mountains of LaSie. More importantly, I missed Amberlye, my own city on the shores where the Old Ones had found me. Dilla-dale says I was just a pup of a dragon then, and he likes to bring it up, as though trying to make me feel infantile I could’ve ever been so small. “Barely hatched from the egg,” he would say. Not finding much humor in the statement, I would glare at him with my red eyes, and send a few puffs of smoke in his direction.

  “Touchy,” Dilla-dale would say.

  Still, I missed the architecture: towers, castles, the thatched cottages, villages and towns, even the muddy streets. When I looked around this new world and saw only remnants of our citadels—massive stone formations emerging from the boles of trees or embedded into mountainsides—I grew emotional and longed for home. Earth was more intact, more its own world, whereas Paramis seemed to disappear altogether in places, leaving behind only hints of its existence. It was terribly sad. Where were the cities, the kingdoms, the primitive regions devoid of technology, open spaces of nature, mountains, rivers, oceans, and trees? I could fly for hours on end, just looking at the land unfold beneath me, the oceans, and how wide and endless they seemed.

  But now that land had changed, and it would never be the same again.

  I missed the festivals and celebrations, too, banquet halls in palaces where men, women, dragons, and the Old Ones would gather to dine, dance, mingle, and celebrate whatever cause seemed just: a new year, a holiday, birthdays, whatever. The only thing separating Paramis from Earth was the technology, now gone—most of it anyway. And I had never seen anything so strange as these bulky, hulking cruisers on wheels moving seemingly on their own: cars, trucks, and motorcycles.

  I missed soaring over vast glaciers, the frozen landscapes of Canastelle in my true form, flying through cold air, marveling over the world Cerras had made.

  I wondered what kind of devils had been unleashed, and what we were about to discover. A newer, darker evil suddenly not Earth at all? I wondered what Lane and Tor-Latress were planning.

  After a week, Dilla-dale and Earth’s—or I should say America’s leaders—came together to organize a committee. They talked about the situation on—what we’d come to think of now as—New Earth and Paramis Altered. Dilla-dale, with the help of Lila, Louis, and Cullen, had managed to locate several political and governmental leaders. Despite the skepticism, as news traveled through the continent, they’d arranged a rally consisting of Earth’s denizens and the people of Paramis. Talks on both sides ensued.

  But it didn’t end the way we’d hoped.

  The clouds, after a week, had finally parted, revealing a bright blue sky. The chill in the air had mixed with the summer on Paramis, and the temperature was warmer than expected.

  For a week, fliers publicized the event, lining the streets and towns. They were plastered on trees, telephone poles, businesses, and doorways. Trucks drove along roads and half roads, and grassy knolls, wherever they could go, with men announcing from bullhorns: ‘Meeting between Paramis and Earth! Meeting between Paramis and Earth!’ I couldn’t help, despite the situation, thinking how amusing it all was, comical even. You had to see it to believe it. Everyone and their families from dragons to men were asked to attend.

  The rally took place at Broomfield Community Park, which was a rather large patch of flat grass. The turnout was enormous. During the collision, the park—because of the magic—had been con
verted strangely with the courthouse, a long structure with stone pillars and plenty of windows. Tree branches wove throughout the stonework, and some of the windows were made from grass and leaves now. Looking at all this, I was trying to wrap my brain around these strange, new configurations.

  Thousands of people showed. Fountain drinks, hot dogs, hamburgers, nachos were available at various stands throughout the park. I’d never seen anything like it.

  “It’s like the amusement park, Mom,” Charlie said, and Holly looked down at him and smiled.

  “What’s an amusement park?” I asked Holly.

  “A place people go to be amused, silly,” Karen said.

  “You’ve been developing quite the sense of humor,” I told her.

  Karen shrugged. “I think it’s this New Earth,” she said. “I kinda like it.”

  Signs of both worlds were everywhere. Men and dragons stood side by side.

  Dilla-dale and a man named, Preston Montgomery, the Vice President of the United States, the mayor of Broomfield, Rudy Granger, along with the help of others, had organized the rally. If anything, maybe this would instill some calm and convince everyone we meant no harm. That was our goal, at least.

  Preston was an agreeable man, much to the relief of many dragons, an open-minded individual, willing to accept the changes that had occurred. The collision had killed the President of the United States, and now Preston was America’s spokesman, while Dilla-dale spoke for Paramis.

  Cars and trucks lined the perimeters. In the midst, a huge throng of men, women, dragons, and children had gathered. A bandstand had been erected, and since there was no electricity, bullhorns were used.

  The fact was rather self-explanatory. Neither world had been prepared for such a dramatic, life-altering, cataclysmic event, but living together—sorting through the wreckage, and finding peace—was our only option. Neither world meant the other harm, but differences would have to be set aside. Someone compared it to the racial differences America suffered during the sixties. Dragons and the Old Ones, someone shouted out, should live on one half of the planet, while the denizens of Earth occupied the other. Mention was made of destroying all dragons because we were fire-breathing monsters. “This isn’t the dark ages! Go back where you came from!” “You have wings!” someone shouted. “Fly home!” The argument was how segregation had created more harm than good in the past. Hadn’t we learned anything? Preston argued.