Children of the Plains

by Paul B. Thompson

  The yevi launched itself just as he turned, two hundred pounds of murderous stealth against eighty-five pounds of boy. It spied the bright dragon scale but failed to recognize it as a threat. The whetted edge sheered right into the animal’s brow, slicing through fur, flesh, and into bone.

  The full weight of the animal drove Amero to the ground. He yelled and kicked the creature, trying to shove it off. The smell of dusty fur and filth suffocated him. At any moment, he expected the savage jaws to close on his neck or face. When the yevi drew off him, he threw his hands up to ward off the expected attack.

  It never came. Slowly Amero lowered his hands. Astonished, he saw the yevi’s sightless, staring eyes and flaccid tongue less than an arm’s length from his face. The beast was dead.

  He yelled, rolled aside, and leaped to his feet. Duranix was there, holding the dead yevi by the scruff of its neck. Two other yevi, also dead, lay in the grass.

  “You killed it,” the dragon said, wrenching the weapon from the animal’s skull. “What’s this? One of my old scales? That’s good!” He threw back his head and laughed.

  Amero was in no mood to join him. “What took you so long?” he quavered. “I called you and you didn’t come.”

  Duranix tossed the dead yevi to the ground. He dusted his hands with distaste. “I didn’t believe you,” he said, shrugging. “I detected nothing in the area. Until this one attacked, I thought we were alone.” He frowned, his smooth brow furrowing with concern. “You heard them, and I didn’t. This human shell of mine is limiting, but not that limiting. Sthenn must have taught them how to veil their thoughts from me. Lucky for us, human senses are different from a dragon’s.”

  Amero picked up the scale and wiped off blood and brains on the grass. His palms were cut again from handling it. “I wish I had a handle for this. It’s a good tool, but too sharp to carry in my hand. What I need is a shaft, like an axe handle —”

  “Why not a spear shaft?”

  Amero shook his head. “I never passed my coming-of-age,” he said, regretfully. “I’m not allowed to have a spear. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Nonsense,” Duranix said. “If you can carry and use it, what’s not right?” He fingered the honed scale in Amero’s hand. It didn’t cut his human-looking skin. “What’s this coming-of-age anyway? What is required?”

  “I must spend four days completely alone on the plain. I have to make my own weapon and kill four-footed game with it, then I bear the trophy-head back to my father and mother.”

  “You can hear predators talk and killed one with a sloughed bronze scale. There is your trophy.” Duranix gestured at the slain yevi.

  Amero averted his face so the dragon wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. He cried at the sudden realization he would never be able to present a manhood trophy to his parents, ever. His family was gone, and he was nothing but a wanderer, doomed to pass his life alone.

  Feeling Duranix’s gaze upon him, Amero brushed aside his childish tears. “Yevi travel in packs,” he said. “There must be more nearby. Do we hunt the rest, or search for plainsmen to warn?”

  Even as a man, Duranix’s pallid eyes were penetrating. “What do you say, Amero?”

  He considered. “We’ll do more good warning hunters. The pack could scatter if we – if you – attacked them directly.”

  Duranix agreed, and before leaving, he left a macabre message for the yevi pack. He piled the three dead animals in a heap and, with his lightning, set them on fire. Sthenn’s creatures would no doubt flee before him, creating a haven of safety in which Amero could warn what plainsmen they met. They set off again, south by west, with a column of dirty black smoke rising from the savanna behind them.

  *

  In time the landscape became familiar. Amero recognized several landmarks, like White Elk watering hole and the pine-topped hills called Crows’ Haven. The great fork of the Plains River lay to the northeast. Amero and his family had crossed that river three times a year in their circuit of the plain – south in summer, west in autumn, north in winter.

  Though it was only days before the onset of deep autumn, they had not encountered a single human since leaving the lake of the falls. Large game was scarce, too. Aside from the occasional solitary antelope or rogue ox, they saw nothing bigger than a rabbit all day.

  Towering white clouds sailed slowly across the sky, periodically hiding the blazing sun. Duranix shortened his stride and gradually came to a stop. He turned his head slowly, as though listening to some distant call.

  “That way,” he said, pointing toward the distant river. “Many men and animals are that way.”

  Amero felt nothing. “How far?” he asked.

  “A half day’s walk – or a few moments by air.”

  “Do you dare show yourself by day? You’ll start a stampede if you swoop down on them in your natural shape.”

  Duranix tapped a golden nail against his chin. “You’re right. If only I could observe and not be seen myself.”

  Amero looked up at the sky. “Could you hide in the clouds?”

  He nodded slowly. “I can, though my presence in clouds often precipitates a thunderstorm.” Amero regarded him blankly. “I cause it to rain,” Duranix said more plainly.

  Without further discussion, Duranix unfolded to his winged reptilian form. On the open savanna he didn’t seem so overwhelming, but he was a massive, formidable creature nevertheless. Bending his serpentine neck in a half circle, he brought his broad head eye to eye with Amero.

  “Do you want to fly with me or walk to the river?” he asked, his voice like fading thunder.

  There could be two dozen yevi in the tall grass around them, just waiting for the dragon to depart. Amero truly had only one choice. He took his courage in his hands and declared, “I’ll go with you.”

  Duranix reached out with one foreclaw to pick him up, but Amero backed away, asking, “Couldn’t I go some other way?”

  “Such as?” rumbled the dragon.

  He pointed. “Could I ride on your back?”

  Duranix glanced at the expanse of burnished scales and flying muscles standing out prominently on his back. He closed his foreclaw around Amero.

  “No,” he replied. “At the first gust of wind or abrupt turn, you’d fall off, and I’d have to find a new pet.”

  Amero would have protested further, but the dragon gathered his mighty rear legs beneath himself and sprang into the air. He climbed rapidly in a tight spiral, aiming for the heavy cloud formations overhead. Amero felt as if his stomach had been left behind on the ground.

  They plunged into a cool white pillar. Clouds that looked so solid from the ground, Amero soon discovered, were actually as insubstantial as morning mist. He worked his arms loose from Duranix’s grip and tried to see over the dragon’s thick claws. Every now and then a scrap of brown earth appeared through holes in the cloud. Amero wondered how high they were.

  “High enough,” Duranix boomed. “Be quiet. I must concentrate.”

  His wings beat in quick, steady rhythm. After a short time, blue sparks began to flicker from every downstroke of the dragon’s wingtips. The smell of the lightning filled the air, and Amero’s hair prickled and stood up on its own. It proved to be more alarming than harmful, and the boy soon got used to it.

  A large gap appeared ahead of them. Duranix lowered his left wing and slipped through the opening. Amero caught a glimpse of green water, probably the southern tributary of the great river. Duranix kept below the clouds for a while, then abruptly rose into the bright white mist. Amero’s head snapped back, and his stomach did a somersault.

  “Did you see them?” said the dragon, his powerful voice tinged with excitement. “Yevi, hundreds of them, just below us.”

  Amero struggled against his host’s impervious grip. “I can’t see a thing!” he complained.

  “They’re massing for an attack. I couldn’t tell if they were after elk or humans, but I’m guessing they’ve driven most of the humans in this area into the
fork of the river.”

  Amero felt his heart pound. Penned on two sides against the swift river, the humans would have to fight or die.

  Duranix swung around in a complete circle, losing height as he did. “Hold on, boy, we’re going to see and be seen!”

  The dragon burst from the underside of the cloud, accompanied by a bolt of lightning. The flash dazzled Amero. When his vision returned, he saw an amazing scene below: Scores of humans were milling around in the riverbend. Mixed in with them were a few centaurs, their heads decorated with colorful headdresses made of feathers. Large numbers of elk, wild oxen, deer, and wild pigs were trapped as well. The more aggressive animals, the boar and bull elk, charged back and forth, conscious they were in a trap. Plainsfolk bunched together in small family groups, warding off half-crazed animals with spears and sharpened sticks. The centaurs, armed with stone-headed clubs, had slain a mighty bull elk and were sheltering behind the bleeding carcass. The yevi formed a great pack just out of spear-casting range.

  The sun cracked through the clouds, sending bright shafts of light through the billowing banks of mist. Duranix’s shadow swept across the scene. Animals and humans alike looked up in wonder, which quickly gave way to terror.

  Duranix hovered, flapping laboriously to remain in one spot. Lightning played about his wings, head, and tail. The prickling sensation on Amero’s skin grew almost unbearable.

  “Now what?” the boy asked:

  “Time to land!”

  The dragon folded his wings and plummeted to the ground. He aimed for the empty ground between the trapped plainsmen and the yevi. Oxen, elk, centaurs, and humans scattered, some throwing themselves in the river to escape. The current was very strong, and the panic-stricken were swept away.

  Duranix alighted hard, shaking the earth beneath him. Lightning played about him, striking the ground with explosive force. The milling throng at his back raised a dense cloud of dust, but above this, Duranix could see the yevi advancing.

  Duranix threw back his homed head and let loose an ear-shattering bellow. Amero was astonished by the sheer volume of his mighty companion’s cry. He clapped his hands over his ears until the roar died away.

  “I am Duranix the Bronze, master of mountain and plains! Who dares challenge me?”

  “What are you doing?” Amero stammered. He was facing rank upon rank of snarling yevi. It seemed impossible they couldn’t bury even a great dragon under a mass of lean, gray bodies.

  Walking a bit awkwardly on his hind legs, the dragon advanced a few steps.

  “Begone!” he roared. “This is your only warning!”

  The gray horde shifted forward in a single, rippling motion. Duranix extended his neck and opened his mouth wide. A searing column of blue-white fire erupted from his throat. It played back and forth on the front ranks of the yevi, who exploded when the dragon-fire touched them. Duranix closed his jaws and drew in a breath. The unhurt yevi surged over the smoldering bodies of their own dead. They were just forty paces away.

  The dragon brought his barbed tail around and used it to scratch behind his left horn. The yevi had closed to thirty paces.

  “Duranix?” Amero said nervously, tapping the dragon’s claw for attention.

  “What?” was the mild response.

  “Do something!”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  Several hundred raging beasts were now only twenty paces away. Amero shouted, “Anything! Do anything!”

  With his free foreclaw Duranix gestured at the onrushing pack. The air shook, and dust whirled into the air in front of the dragon. An invisible swath was torn through the yevi ranks, scattering those on either side and pulverizing those in the center. The yevi checked their attack, milling about in confusion. Duranix gestured again, and another hole was torn in the pack. Animals at the edges and rear began to run away. The trickle of desertions became a torrent until only the front ranks remained.

  “This range is mine, from the lake of the falls to the southern sea!” Duranix bellowed. “Tell Sthenn I will not allow his creatures to poach on my land!”

  “You cannot hold!” muttered the remaining yevi. “You cannot hold! You tire! We will have the plain as our own. That is the promise of our master!”

  Duranix let loose a blast of lightning, milder than before, but which nonetheless tore the ground asunder and ignited grass and scrub among the yevi. Singed, the beasts fled yelping.

  A mild, warm rain began to fall. Duranix set Amero on the ground. When he was sure the yevi had all fled, he and

  Amero walked back to where the trapped plainsfolk were crouching behind hastily erected barricades of stones, logs, and twists of thorny vines. At their approach, a hail of spears landed around Amero.

  “Stop!” he shouted. “I’m human, like you!”

  “Showering you with gratitude,” Duranix said dryly. He stood behind Amero, looking a bit unsteady on his feet.

  “You’re scaring them,” the boy said. “Can’t you change to human form?”

  “I’m tired,” he said. The dragon dropped on his belly and rested his chin on his crossed forelegs. His tail curled around his body. He sighed and closed his eyes. “You explain things to the silly creatures. I’ll remain here.”

  Amero picked his way through a welter of rocks and logs. Deer sprinted to and fro, and wild pigs dashed about, grunting.

  “The yevi are gone!” Amero called. “It’s safe! You can come out!”

  Slowly, a thickset man emerged from a heap of logs and stones, spear couched on his shoulder. He climbed atop a fallen log and pointed at Amero with his weapon.

  “Who are you, who commands the stormbird?” he asked hoarsely.

  “‘Commands?’” said Amero. He glanced back at the slumbering dragon. Forgive me, mighty one, but if it calms them, let them think so!

  Amero approached the lone hunter. His beard was strongly flecked with gray, and his broad shoulders were scarred with the marks of a long and strenuous life. Amero held up his hands, palms out, the plainsman’s gesture of peace.

  “I am Amero, son of Oto and Kinar,” he said.

  “Valka,” the man replied, tapping his chest with his spearhead. “What do you want with us?”

  Amero was taken aback. He’d expected, at the very least, grudging thanks. Stifling his annoyance, he said, “I want nothing. My friend and I saw your trouble from the air and came to help you.”

  Valka’s black brows rose. “The stormbird is your friend?”

  “Yes. His name is Duranix.”

  Gradually more hunters appeared, along with their mates and children. Amero had never seen so many people together at one time. They were plainly curious about the boy they’d seen fall from the clouds in the grasp of a mythical stormbird. They pressed in, trying to get a glimpse of him and the fantastic creature lying so quietly on the same ground where he’d routed the yevi host.

  Valka said, “Who are you, boy? Where did you come from?”

  “As I said, I am Amero, son of a hunter like you. Some weeks past my family was killed by the yevi – the same creatures who were stalking you. I was saved by Duranix, and since then we’ve been trying to warn others about them.”

  “We’ve been running from the near-wolves for a full change of the moon,” Valka said. “They killed my son, Duru.” Fathers and mothers in the crowd took up the refrain, listing the names of family members claimed by the remorseless yevi.

  “Duranix has scattered them,” Amero said. “A few may lurk about for a while, but I don’t think they’ll mass again, for fear he will destroy them.”

  “How can he destroy them?” said a yellow-haired woman, her faced streaked with tears. “Are they not evil spirits sent to plague us?”

  Amero shook his head. “They’re flesh, hide, and bone, like any other animal,” he said firmly. “Come, look at the slain.” He started toward the battle site. “Come,” he said again to the reluctant hunters. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Though Amero walked within arm’s
length of the dozing dragon, the other humans gave him a wide berth. Rain had put out the fires Duranix had started, but steam hung in the air over the blasted soil. Three centaurs had already gone out to inspect the bodies of the burned and smashed predators. The centaurs watched the plainsmen approach with tense expressions.

  “Peace to you,” Amero said. Up close, centaurs stank. He tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust, remembering what Duranix had said about the smell of humans. Valka and some of the bolder hunters poked and prodded among the dead yevi.

  “Huh,” a centaur grunted. “Like wolf, but bigger.”

  “They have hands,” said one of the humans, startled. “What unnatural beasts!”

  The tallest centaur approached Amero. He held out a swarthy, black-nailed hand to the boy. “You save miteera. Now, friends.”

  “Miteera” must be either the centaur’s name, or the name of his band, Amero decided. The boy did not hesitate but clasped the creature’s rough, callused hand. Not long ago he would have been terrified to be so close to a centaur, but after living with a dragon, he found that centaurs weren’t so frightening after all. They certainly showed a lot more gratitude than the plainsmen.

  “Friends,” he said, gripping the centaur’s hand as hard as he could.

  The creature released him and gestured at the yevi with his club. “These people?”

  “They’re smart as people,” Amero said. “They were sent to drive us off the plains.”

  “Sent by who?” asked the blonde woman sharply.

  “Another dragon – a stormbird – the enemy of Duranix. He lives far to the west, in the forest.”

  They mulled this over, and Valka said, “What’s to prevent this enemy from sending more beasts to attack us?”

  “Duranix will fight them,” Amero said proudly.

  “He’s a mighty beast, but he can’t be all places at once.”