by J. Sselxuyt
“That’s a female,” Areth tells me, “and from the looks of things, she’s interested in you.”
“Interested?” I ask. “As in. . . .”
“She wants to mate,” comes the all too happy reply. “She wants to do perverted thing with you!”
But I’m obviously not a dragon. Well, that’s better than fighting, at least. I think.
Not really, my father dashes my hopes. She doesn’t look like the intelligent kind, and their mating habits are a lot more violent than the smart ones.
Remembering how violent TanaVesta could be, I shuddered. This really wasn’t turning out like the rescue I’d hoped it would be.
“Is there any way to convince her I’m not a good mate?” I ask, hoping to avoid fighting this monster.
Dragons respect strength. If you let her kill you, she won’t be interested. But I don’t think that’s a good plan to follow.
I can’t help but agree. So, it’s either play her game and fight for my life, or rather our lives considering Areth and Shemhazau, or try running again.
I’m sick of running.
Be very careful of using your claws. I don’t know what might happen.
The female dragon lunges forward at the same time I do, her teeth going for my long throat. Ducking my head just in time, I bring it up hard, slamming a horn on top of my head into her jaw.
The blow does her no harm as she accepts it and moves away for a brief second, before coming back at me, this time standing on her rear legs, fore claws extended. Whipping my body around, I bring my tail to bear and feel it smack satisfyingly against her side.
I realize my mistake too late as my tail isn’t enough to knock her bulk aside, and now my back is to her. I can feel her talons dig into my sides, my scales barely slowing them.
“Ow, ow, ow,” Areth yells into my brain.
Screaming in pain, I rear up, craning my neck around, and bite one of her legs. My counterattack catches her off-guard, and she disengages before I can really sink my teeth in. Warily we circle each other, and I can hear the sounds of police sirens and choppers flying overhead. We’re going to be on national news after this.
“Then my plan worked,” Areth says, and I’m so shocked that she’d actually intended for something like this to happen, that I miss the blue dragon’s next attack.
Her head bowls into my chest, knocking me onto my back, and I can feel one of my wings get wrenched as she climbs on top of me and goes for my throat again.
Instinctively I inhale deeply, and bellow at her, flame pouring from my open mouth, and burning my human tongue.
“Ouch, that hurt!” Areth screeches in my mind.
Better not do that again! At least it got her off me. We circle around again, and now I see that cops have the park surrounded, weapons drawn and ready.
The female watches me warily, head low to the ground and tongue snaking out occasionally to taste the air.
Any advice? I ask mentally, my tongue hurting too badly to try to actually speak.
“Don’t die,” Areth responds helpfully.
She’s taken your measure now, son. Her next attack will be in earnest.
No sooner are those words in my mind, than she launches herself at me again. I can hear gunfire, loud pops that almost sound like popcorn popping, and I can feel rounds bouncing harmlessly off my tough hide. Sparks fly from her blue scales as well as we come together, teeth snapping and claws trying to gain purchase.
Pain flares across my abdomen as she scores a strike. Using my long neck, I get my head behind her, and latch onto one of her wings where it connects to her body.
Suddenly she’s trying to get away from me, but this time my jaws are locked, and I can feel her hot blood begin pouring into my mouth, cooling my scorched tongue. Thankfully I can’t taste it. She darts her head in, snapping only inches from my snout, but somehow I know they’re just feints now. She tries to pull away a couple more times, then stops, and lies flat on her stomach. An odd noise fills the air, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s crooning softly.
Carefully I release the muscles in my jaw, groaning at the pain after having held them so tightly clamped. The dragon just lays there for a few moments as I carefully back away, then I jump back as she rolls onto her back.
“You’ve won!” Areth screams into my mind, inducing a sudden headache. “I can’t believe the pervert won!”
Why did she act like that? I ask my mental guests. She had me pretty well beat, until I got her wing.
Dragons use their wings to protect their eggs and incubate them, Shemhazau informs us. I’m afraid things might actually be worse off now than they were before.
How can they be worse? I wonder, confused.
The blue dragon is watching me again, and I swear I can actually make out a smile on her face. At least the cops have quit firing at us.
By attacking her wing, you declared that you would protect your young by her, and by her behavior, she is now completely submissive to you.
Great, just great! What the heck am I going to do with a submissive big blue dragon?
“Lyden?” a male voice asks. I turn to see Jewkes slowly approaching me, hands held high and empty, though his pistol is still on his hip. Further behind him, parked on the grass, is the Orange Bubble.
As soon as I turn my head, the blue dragon snaps at me, and I quickly nip back, catching her nose and making her yelp.
I open my mouth to respond to Jewkes, but only a gargling noise issues from my throat. My tongue is too damaged to speak. I’m surprised to see him shy back, but when I nod my head, he visibly relaxes.
Around the park, cops and SWAT are still pointing their weapons at us, but it seems like they’re willing to wait and see how things play out with Captain Jewkes.
The older man slowly approaches closer, and the blue dragon begins to growl, until I move in front of her, blocking her view. The captain stops, sensing the tension in the air. I feel the other dragon begin to rub her head against my hind end, and her crooning increases. Did I just prove to her that I’m willing to protect her by getting in front of her? I’d meant to protect Richard!
“You’ve got the entire town terrified of you right now, young man,” he tells me, and I nod, unable to speak. “You can’t talk in that form, can you?” he asks, already knowing the answer. “Well, at least I won’t have too much difficulty in convincing my superiors when I write this report up.” He glances at the helicopters overhead.
“That was my plan!” Areth announces. “I brought the dragon here to make a spectacle and clear his name.”
Throwing my head back, I roar with laughter. I can’t help it. Trust the little pixie to come up with a plan like this to save an ally’s reputation. For such a small woman, she has some big ideas.
“Why, thank you,” I hear her say self-satisfied in my mind.
You realize you’ve just changed this world forever, right? Shemhazau admonishes her. There were better and less grandiose ways of helping the officer of the law.
Bringing my head back down, I can tell that I’ve terrified the very same officer with my outburst. Turning back to the blue dragon, my mirth dissipates. What am I going to do with her?
“Send her back,” Areth informs me.
How do I talk to her, if she’s not one of the intelligent kind? I wonder inwardly.
Perhaps I mislead you a bit on that, my father states. If you can talk to her, then she’ll understand. All dragons are smart, but not all are as smart as say, the Pillar of Fire.
But if I change back in front of her, how will she react? I get no response to that question.
For good measure, I tower over the blue dragon, and move my head to her neck, squeezing it carefully between my jaws, before pulling back. She makes no move to resist or pull away.
Closing my eyes, I picture Areth on my shoulder, Murasame on my hip, and my clothes whole and in one piece on my human body, then have to gasp at the amount of energy that drains from me in the process.
&
nbsp; Opening my eyes while firmly gripping Murasame, I look at the dragon, but she just looks back at me complacently. Apparently she’s not surprised, and I realize she’d seen me transform in the first place.
“I can move again!” Areth crows as she launches herself from my shoulder. The dragon’s eyes follow the golden woman, but she makes no other movement.
“What do I call you?” I ask, or try to. It comes out as barely more than a mumble.
“What happened to you?” Jewkes asks, coming up behind me.
The dragon reacts quickly, rolling back over, and growling menacingly, until Jewkes backs away.
“Okay, okay, I’ll stay back,” the man says, doing just that.
“He burned his tongue, and can’t talk,” Areth speaks for me.
I remember talking telepathically with Angela when I’d first become a dragon way back in Egypt, and concentrate on doing the same with the dragon.
WHAT DO I CALL YOU?
She blinks at me a couple times, before turning her head and rubbing her muzzle across her blue scales.
BLUE? She seems to accept this, and I chuckle lightly, turning it into a groan at the feeling of my burnt tongue. I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel her forked tongue brush lightly across my body. Somehow I know she’s offering comfort for the pain she’s caused me, and tentatively I reach out and place my hand on her snout. She suffers my touch, but backs away when Areth tries to do the same. I can’t help but laugh again at the way the fairy pouts.
“It seems you have some control over her,” Jewkes states. “Can you safely get her to leave?”
The man’s words bring me back to the present, and our current circumstances.
WAIT FOR ME IN THE PILLAR OF EARTH’S DOMAIN, I tell her. I WILL RETURN TO YOU THERE, AND WE CAN FINISH OUR BUSINESS.
I’m not certain I want to finish our business, but I don’t know if Blue will leave without that guarantee.
ARETH, HELP GUIDE HER BACK, I order the fairy, before turning back to Blue. PLEASE DON’T EAT MY FRIEND, I tell her. BUT YOU’RE WELCOME TO SCARE HER A BIT.
The dragon seems to enjoy that thought as she takes off after the fairy, smoke trailing from her nostrils. How had the dragon and fairy come to Earth? Blue is too big to fit in that elevator.
“You’re bleeding,” Richard states, and I look down to see that my shirt is soaked in blood. Lifting up the bloody cloth, I’m happy to note that there are only three deep scratches across my abdomen, plus a few more on my sides, none of them life threatening.
Waving my hand to the Orange Bubble, I indicate that I’m ready to go.
“You are all under arrest,” a new voice sounds, and we spin to see a very large black man in a SWAT uniform carrying an equally large shotgun in his hands.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Jewkes asks indignantly. Placing his hand on his holstered pistol.
“Remove your hands from your weapons,” the man intones emotionlessly. “By the power entrusted in me by the Order of the Paladonic Knights, I remand you into custody.”
Something invisible grabs a hold of me and I topple over, unable to move.
“Lyden?” Becky’s fearful voice reaches me, but I can’t turn to look in her direction. From a grunt next to me, I can only assume that Captain Jewkes is in the same predicament.
With an unsettling feeling in my stomach, I’m hoisted into the air by invisible hands and follow the dark man, the letters S.W.A.T. painted in white on the back of his body armor. Two more men join us, neither as large as the first man, and both are dressed in casual clothing.
When I see Becky, Lisa, Brooke, and somehow Jennifer join us, floating over the ground like me, I begin to struggle against my bonds, but to no avail. Somehow I’m able to breathe with no problems, but my arms and legs refuse to obey.
We stop only long enough for a self-satisfied Miranda to plant herself in front of me.
“You are a sick and disgusting creature, Mr. Snow. I will not be sorry to see you die.” Her full-armed slap across my face stings more than normal as my face can't move to dissipate the pressure. Then she turns and walks away.
The man closest to me chuckles, until the large man in front turns to look at him. “Put them to sleep, wizard. I’ll deal with our audience while you transport them back to base.”
“Where did their car go?” I hear another voice ask, right before I lose consciousness.
* * * *
Horrific pain in my mouth wakens me, and I sit up screaming. Or trying to scream. My tongue feels like it’s still on fire, and nothing I can do blocks out the pain. Dimly I’m aware of people coming in and striking me, trying to get me to shut up, but compared to the pain of my burned tongue, I barely even notice them. How long I lay here in agony, I don’t know, but the moment something pours into my mouth and the pain abates, is when I become fully aware of my surroundings.
A balding man in tan corduroy pants and a flannel shirt, looking like he belongs back in the early eighties, is bending over me, a plastic cup in his left hand and my head in his right. By the gray brick walls and dark metal bars, I figure I must be in some sort of prison.
“You burned your tongue pretty bad,” the man tells me softly. “I’ve seen this in burn victims before, where you don’t feel the full pain right away, but after a bit, the agony is horrendous.” His voice is calm and soothing, almost kind even. “What I gave you won’t heal you, I’m afraid. None of us have the skill to heal a wound that bad, but we can mitigate your pain at least. I’m afraid your tongue is nothing more than a blackened husk. Normally I’d recommend having it removed, but you’ll likely be dead soon enough anyway.” He sounds almost sad at this news.
I nod that I understand him, moving my mouth and noticing that it feels large and empty inside. I can’t even feel my teeth or cheeks.
“Is the bastard done yelling Emmet? I was getting sick of the sound of his girlish screams.” The new voice comes from the other side of the bars, and where Emmet’s tone is kind, this new guy’s inflection is cruel.
“Yes, Brock, he should be able to rest peacefully now.” Emmet heaves a heavy sigh as he gets to his feet, and walks to the barred door.
“That’s Paladin Brock to you, Emmet.” I notice that he gives no honorific to Emmet. “And I could care less if he gets any rest. Just as long as he quits that infernal yelling. He was driving the other prisoners into an uproar. I don’t understand why we haven’t already killed him. He’s obviously not human.” I catch a glimpse of the ornery Brock as he opens the door to let Emmet out. A large man with broad shoulders, and a perpetual scowl to his otherwise ugly face. His hair is cropped close to his head, with a little more on top in a military fashion. I dislike him immediately.
His mention of other prisoners reminds me that Becky, Lisa, Brooke, Richard, and Jennifer were also captured. Where had Jennifer come from? I’ll have to figure that out later. Looking around my small cell, I see a toilet in one corner, a small cot without a mattress, and nothing else. The women must be in a different cell.
My first order of business is to relieve myself, before I lie down on the cot. I try to fall asleep in order to see if I can find anyone else’s minds, but the sound of my cell door opening brings me alert.
“On your feet, monster,” Brock orders me, pointing a shotgun at my chest. I swing my feet around, off the cot, and I don’t miss the large man stepping back quickly in fear. “Slowly now. I’m not afraid to shoot you.”
I raise one eyebrow at him, questioning the quaver in his voice, but otherwise move slower. He backs away as I approach the door, and he indicates with the weapon where he wants me to go. The man follows behind me, and I can feel the barrel press between my shoulder blades as we move.
“Just so you know, this is loaded with silver buck shot, blessed by our priests.” He shoves me forward, and I stumble for a second before catching my balance again. “Move faster, the Grand Meister doesn’t have all day.”
I pick up my pace, trying not to curse at the opposing
commands he gives, all the while trying to look into the cells we pass. I don’t see any of my companions. In fact, I don’t see anyone else in any of the cells. I’m guessing that they don’t take many prisoners. The walkway is large, with occasional choke points that I assume would be good for defending. The point when we leave the detention area, and enter the more functional places is obvious by the decorations on the wall, and the change from solid gray brick walls, to painted white brick walls. We pass by a series of offices before Brock stops me in front of a set of massive double doors. The doors are solid wood, probably oak, and at least twenty feet tall. Two guards, dressed in ceremonial medieval armor shined to mirror perfection, stand on either side of the doors. At our approach, they lift two long spears, and slam the metal butts hard against the floor in unison. The sound echoes down the hallway we’d just come down. A second later the big doors open.
I don’t need Brock’s prodding with his shotgun to tell me to start walking, and I can’t help my eyes growing large as we enter the new room. If I thought the doors were huge, then this room makes me think they’re too small. The ceiling is high above us, hidden behind bright lights. Large round pillars, at least six feet across and spaced thirty feet apart, line a long walkway. The walkway floor is made of dark marble, shined to reflect the ceiling. I can’t see the far end.
I swear we walk for at least a couple minutes, before Brock stops me in front of a raised dais, atop which is a white chair. Sitting in the chair is a man obviously past his prime, but in no way do I suspect him to be weak or feeble. A massive sword sits across his knees, which seems odd considering he’s in a very expensive looking business suit.
He’s not the most important thing to me now, however as I see my friends on their knees facing the Grand Meister, each with a guard behind them.
Brooke looks up at our approach, and I see her eyes grow large as she sees me, but her guard makes a threatening gesture with his shotgun, and she fearfully turns back.
Anger begins to boil inside of me at the treatment they must have received, in order to make her act so cowed. I reach for Murasame, and my hand closes on empty air.