by Bill Fawcett
“That’s not a Pat Henry. That’s a wraith spell.”
The man looked down. “Weird,” he said. “I could have sworn I had one. Oh, well.”
* * *
“We’re not connecting with him,” Tera said, concentrating hard. “You try finding one person in the middle of fifty-thousand others,” James retorted.
“Come now,” Anneli said, soothingly. “Let’s not lose our heads.”
“I bet you were teacher’s pet in school,” Shawna Lacey grumbled, but they went back to concentrating.
* * *
Pat held up his taloned hands and appealed for quiet. The dragons reluctantly came to order. The females on their nesting boxes looked broody and bad tempered. Sitting in one place for five days was no one’s idea of fun. He wished it was just that easy. The message he had received, relayed to him by more than a dozen cranky sensitives, both relieved and concerned him, but at least he had a pretty good idea where the magicians had gotten to. Trouble was, they weren’t there where they could refresh the fraying spells, and he was worried about overstressing the enchanters that were still free and under constant guard. The key was not to wear down the spells in place.
“I know you all want to get out and look around Atlanta, especially since the parade is tomorrow morning, but we’ve got a real threat going on here. I have to appeal to your patience to stay put in this part of the complex until we’ve got it taken care of.”
“We can help!” a huge, yellow-scaled dragon from Central Asia said, rearing up on his hind legs and brandishing a five-clawed hand. “You calling us defenseless?”
“We don’t know the extent of the threat,” Pat said. “The best thing you can do is stay in here and defend the nests and the youngsters. If you keep coming and going, then the fire ants are going to figure out where you are.”
“I’m not afraid of a bunch of little bugs,” the male exclaimed.
“You’ve never had them try to eat you,” John Tackett said. In his dragon shape he was a slender, handsome bronze. “I nearly got killed by a nest of them a couple of years ago.”
“Bugs can kill dragons!” an iridescent African green exclaimed. “We have many dangerous insects in our region.”
The roaring became deafening as every dragon tried to be heard at once.
“But it’s not fair!” a young female blue exclaimed. “I’m supposed to be in the Pernese costume contest this evening. I spent months working on my outfit. I want to meet Anne McCaffrey! I can change my shape. I’ll fit in, I swear!”
“Holly, I don’t know what I can tell you,” Pat said. “We’re doing everything we can. I just think that it would be best if you stayed here and used your power to keep this area safe. John and Brenda will stay here. I’ll let you know when we have cleared the threat. In any case, you’ll be able to leave when the hatchlings are able to fly. We just have to hold out until then.”
The dragons inside the conclave center were not pleased to be forced to stay put. Pat didn’t envy his guest liaison department heads the task of placating that group with their notoriously short tempers. Brenda gave him a wink of one jewel-bright eye, and he relaxed. She had some ideas.
“Can I count on your cooperation, just for a while?” Pat pleaded.
“For a while,” the great golden dragon said, who had appointed himself the spokesman for the group. His name was Tang, and did not appreciate references to the astronaut breakfast drink. “Then we’re going to take matters into our own hands, humans or not.”
Pat cringed at the thought of what effect fifty full-sized dragons would have on the large population of the convention above-then wondered what effect those enthusiastic humans would have on the dragons, especially those from the isolated regions.
“I’ll be at the banquet,” he said. “You can notify me there. With any luck at all, we’ll have this licked tonight.”
“Do we have your promise on that?” a red dragon asked, so elderly her scales had faded to rusty orange.
“I’ll do my best, Shelogh,” Pat said. “I can’t do better than that.”
“I believe in you, Pat,” Annette said from atop her six eggs. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Pat conjured his human appearance back in place, and was able to open the door with a scaleless hand by the time he reached it.
* * *
Underground, every hidden passageway heaved with tiny bronze-colored bodies. Long-forgotten streams, buried electrical conduit, pipes, sewers and walkways were filled with the marching ants. Here and there among them, a captain the size of a dog waded among her drones. Soldier generals were spread out along the route, but they were not needed to give directions. Every one of the marching fire ants had the voice of the Ant Queen echoing in their heads: find the dragons. Find them, no matter what it took.
When they reached the cluster of hotels in the middle of the city, they spread out into four armies, each containing many millions of ants. They swarmed up through the walls and ventilation ducts, squirming behind insulation and up through the plumbing, until they covered every wall in the four hotels. It was only a matter of time before the spells that were in place began to fade. Then the armies would invade, stinging every living creature to incapacity or death.
* * *
Was everything in place? Pat wondered, as he stepped into the ballroom where the DragonCon banquet was to be held. Forty round tables covered with white tablecloths and folding chairs were arranged before a stage where a quartet of musicians was tuning up. Large speakers stood at either end in front of small curtained areas that acted as ‘off stage’ used, among other reasons, to conceal the awards that were to be handed out that evening.
Regina, in a form-fitting evening dress of blue-green sequins that was not unlike her normal dragonish skin, came out from behind the stage-left curtain.
“Is everything here?” Pat asked.
“As you asked,” she said. “How sure are you this is going to work?”
“I’m not,” Pat admitted.
“Good,” Regina said, grinning. “I might have thought you were crazy if you did. We’re behind you a hundred percent.”
Pat took a deep sniff, and his eyes watered. The sharp smell of formic acid was beginning to permeate the atmosphere. There must be thousands of the red insects infiltrating that one floor of the hotel. “I don’t like letting the fire ants this close, but if we want to lure their queen out of hiding I don’t think there’s any choice.”
“And get our magicians back,” Regina said. “Everette and Bill are on their way.”
Pat nodded. “I’d better see to our special guests.” He straightened his tie. The room was beginning to fill.
He had sent a message to Shawna Lacey, inviting her to the banquet, as all the convention special guests were, but with a personal note informing her that a DragonCon award would be presented to her. The line that ensured that she would make it was letting her know that photographers from the local and national press would be there to record the moment for television and the papers. Whatever had disguised itself as the actress could not fail to show up for the honor, lest it raise suspicion. Pat thought it was most likely a soldier-general. The Queen was almost certainly hidden in some underground warren, controlling her forces from a distance. With the help of the few human magicians and the dragon mages in the conclave chamber, they ought to be able to lean on the soldier to give up her location. At least, he hoped so. The mood in the conclave was growing ugly. Instead of the usual detente and negotiations, everyone was getting cabin fever. Come Monday there might never again be a need for a DragonCon, conclave or convention.
* * *
“I’m very strong,” Hisham explained to the elaborately-dressed woman on his right. “No, I am! I can stop a train with one hand.” The woman looked blank. “I’m a conductor.”
She laughed. “Heat or electricity?” she asked.
&n
bsp; Everyone chuckled, including Ms. McCaffrey. Her table was in front of the stage at the end of the room nearest the door. Two chairs were reserved for Anne’s son and granddaughter, who had not yet arrived. The rest were occupied by devoted fans from the Worlds of Anne McCaffrey program track, most of whom were clued in as to the potential danger lurking.
Koolness scanned the room. The music was very loud, which irritated his sensitive ears, but the lighting was low, an advantage for him. The others passed the salad and bread around. He could scarcely smell the salad dressing over the sharp stench. Wherever it was coming from, it was bad. The convention committee had taken Aranel aside and asked her to keep an eye out for Anne. The most trustworthy and talented among them had come along to the banquet, though it cut short the annual costume contest. Their usual mistress of ceremonies said she understood. She and her husband were keeping watch from the next table.
* * *
Shawna Lacey appeared in the doorway. She paused for a moment, as if posing for the photographers and videographers, then sashayed in. She looked stunning, her slim, curving figure in draped golden silk trousers and brocade jacket, tiny golden sandals and a tiara in her thick hair to match. Pat stood up to gesture her to his table.
All his senses seemed to go off at once. The smell hit him, causing his eyes to burn, and he heard a high-pitched whine in both ears that was not caused by the deafening music coming from the stage. It set his nerves jangling. He kept the smile on his face as she approached, more hesitantly now. He knew without a doubt that she was no soldier-general, but Hedaera herself, just as he was certain that she knew he was a dragon.
For the sake of the humans around him, he took her hand politely in his and escorted her to the chair opposite his at the table. He introduced his wife and daughter and their fellow guests.
For her part, the Ant Queen was gracious, as if she really was a notable Hollywood actress.
Impossible! the Queen thought furiously, jabbing a fork into her salad. She had to concentrate on chewing up and down instead of moving her jaws sideways. Dragons were not only hiding here, but they were fully integrated into the human conference as well. It came to her in a moment: dragons had created this convention to conceal their presence in this place.
The man across from her, the convention organizer, was not only a dragon, but a damned big one, from the scent of him. She was afraid, but at the same time she had a difficult time stopping herself from salivating. Dragon scent was everywhere. She felt the blissful anticipation of years of food stored away in her hive.
“The menu is pasta with sauce,” the dragon was saying, “and baked chicken. I hope you’ll like that.”
She looked at him, her eyes intent. “I look forward to gnawing on the bones,” she said.
* * *
Even though it was the size of a football stadium, the conclave chamber seemed to be shrinking around them. The dragon attendees couldn’t concentrate on talk singing or any of the complicated games that Brenda proposed.
“I hear scratching,” said Omoro, the African delegate. “Tiny feet, scratching. The sound is at the edge of my hearing. Millions of them. They are coming for us. For our children!” He looked anxiously at his mate, Mleda, a short-winged female with deep blue scales who was perched over two small eggs. “I wish we were safely back on Kilimanjaro.”
“I hear them, too,” Brenda said. “They don’t know where we are. They’re fishing for a response. They can’t break through the concealment glamour. You just keep a positive attitude, and Pat will take care of everything.”
“Can he destroy ten million ants?” Omoro asked anxiously.
“He’s not working alone,” John said. “He’s got us. And we have all of you.”
“This is not why I chose to come here,” said the Asian dragon, clutching his head with his elegant paws. He raised his voice so that it echoed off the domed ceiling. “Make the sound stop! It is tearing at my ears!”
“We could,” Brenda said, “but I’d rather hear it than not hear it. That way we know where they are.”
“Keep it together, bach,” said Corman, a Welsh red, one of the smallest of the attendees, hardly bigger than the wyvern from Scandinavia. “If you lose your wits, then the terrorists have won.”
“Terrorists,” the golden dragon said, scornfully. “I eat terrorists. And they are not very good, either.”
“Then let’s muster up good defense, here,” John advised.
“My power is for protecting my children,” one of the nesting females said. “I can hear them starting to move around.”
“The rest of us, then,” John said. “Let’s give them a really warm welcome if they make it through the door.” He grinned, and his sharp rows of teeth glinted. The others responded with fierce smiles.
But even while they started to stoke their inner fires, they could sense the overwhelming numbers of insects outside. They had passed the millions and were well into the billions. If the spells failed, some of them would undoubtedly be injured or die before they could escape to the open air. And the eggs, so close to hatching, were too fragile to move. The unhatched infants were vulnerable.
* * *
Everette Beach swiped a cobweb off his face as he followed the plant engineer into the depths of the Marriott basement. “You sure about the storage cupboard down here?”
“Oh, yeah,” the skinny African-American man said. “Doesn’t get used much. It’s too out of the way. I almost forgot we had it, until you said it was a concrete box. How’d you know about it, if you don’t know where it is?”
“Uh, well, one of our people put something in it for safekeeping, and he had to go home. Now we have to get it out.”
“No problem. You gonna need help carrying it?”
“No,” Bill Mann said. “It’ll be easy to move.”
He and Everette exchanged glances. We hope, he thought.
The engineer tripped on something and looked at his feet. Rusty red specks were piled up like miniature snowdrifts. “Gross,” he said. “Look at that. There must be thousands of those ants down here. Half of ’em are dead. The hotel sprays every week, but it looks like it ain’t strong enough to kill all of ‘em.”
Bill looked down. Piles of ant bodies stretched out before them, leading into the concrete tunnel. They must be carrying food to the others. When the exterminator’s poison took out some of them, others just took their place. Ugh.
Some of the live ones climbed up and bit their ankles. They swatted them away. Everette stopped suddenly.
“Did you hear that?”
“Scratching,” Bill said. “Something big?
“Yeah,” Everette turned to the engineer. “Mind if I change?”
The man looked around. “Here? I mean, it’s private and all, but if you got to change your clothes, you shoulda ... “
“Thanks,” Everette said. Gritting his teeth against the pain of the ant bites, he stretched out along the tunnel. It was so narrow he had to keep his wings close against his side to keep from bumping his elbows. He snaked his long, pale tan neck out through the tunnel to the next turning.
As he guessed, a couple of ant soldiers stood against a door. The scratching noise was the two ants talking to one another, antenna to antenna. They looked up in surprise as he dashed toward them.
“Hi, guys,” he said. “Nice day for a fire, huh?”
“A what?”
Everette dragged all the power he had into his lungs, and breathed outward. A wash of flames licked down the concrete tunnel, filling the end with a burst of crackling light. To his pleasure, the fire also destroyed most of the tiny ants as well. He restored his human disguise, and hurried to the door.
“Hey, anyone in there?” he called.
“Everette?” James’s voice came from the other side. “Get us out of here!”
Everette shook the handle. It was unlocked, but
bespelled shut. It was going to take a little work to get it open.
Bill stumped into view, his dark-green head scales bumping the top of the corridor. He surveyed the slumped, fused bodies and shook his head.
“You could’ve left one of them for me.”
“Sorry,” Everette said, with a grin. “How are you at picking locks?”
“Stand back,” Bill said. He took a deep breath.
“Not the Godzilla lightning!” Everette shouted. “James, get away from the door!”
* * *
Koolness glanced at the actress who joined Pat Henry at the table two away from theirs. Something about her looked wrong. Mr. Henry must have thought so, too, because he had a pretty strange look on his face. Most of that terrible smell was coming from the woman. If it was a new cologne, it would be one people would only buy because it was trendy. He and the others exchanged glances. Whatever was going to happen was imminent. He twitched his nose warily.
* * *
Pat stepped to the dais and signaled for quiet. The music stopped. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming to this year’s DragonCon ...”
The speech rolled off his tongue just as he’d rehearsed it. All around him he could sense movement, some from allies, and some from who knew? The room was full of ants of all sizes. All around the walls, marching platoons of worker ants blended in with the patterned carpet. The dog-sized captain ants occupied a variety of disguises, including a pair of badly-made dragon costumes with five stacked up inside each. He had had to change his plans on the fly, now that he had the Ant Queen within an arm’s reach. She must have plotted to reach this point as well, and hoped that he would be able to counter her, at the same time defusing the threat against human and dragon alike.