by Einat Segal
But suddenly, from a long way away, I hear my own voice saying, “Are you bullying me right now?”
And then the dragon grins, a smile so malicious and cold, it’s like frost against my eyes. He lets me go. I lose my balance, toppling forward onto the thick rug. As I struggle back to my feet, I look up to find him facing the window with his back to me. It’s like a huge hand brushes away the fear in my heart, leaving only its blurred outline in the sand of my emotions.
I blink several times until my eyes regain their moisture.
“Very good,” says Sutherland. “You have passed the test, kitten.”
Kitten? Test? Really? Oh hell.
“Well, fuck you,” is all I can say in response. I know that’s not the best choice of words.
“Careful, kitten, you don’t want to overstep yourself. I stand to gain nothing from punishing a human, but I will not suffer insolence.”
With the fear gone, leaving nothing but a bruise in my consciousness, he becomes more bearable. He continues to stand by the window, but turns to face me. By his slight accent and his coloring, he seems Indian to me, or maybe he’s from Pakistan? I don’t know where exactly he picked up the name “Sutherland.” He’s got the making of the absolute “tall dark stranger,” down to the perfect hair that falls across his smooth forehead. I can look at him all day—he’s that impressive—but at the same time, I want this “audience” to be over as soon as possible. “Where’s Landon?”
“My gryphon is . . . unwell. You will be taken to him shortly, but you cannot see him before you’re prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
“Why don’t you have a seat, kitten?” He gestures to the armchair I was sitting in before he tripped me. “Let us discuss it in detail.”
He begins once I’m seated. “Among our kind, there’s a delicate balance.” He remains standing by the window, and even though he’s facing me, he’s looking to the distance. It’s a relief not to have his attention on me. “It all starts and ends with magic, of course. You can say that for an immortal being, magic is the greatest value we are judged by. Some of us are born linked with a human body, and we can die an almost human death, but at the same time, we remain immortal, born again as another human. Our memories serve as a link to our power; the stronger we remember, the greater we are.”
“What’s this got to do with Landon?” I interrupt.
“Patience, kitten,” he says, now looking at me again. I’m sorry I said anything. I don’t like the way he watches me—as if he can’t wait to devour me. “The less you know, the smaller your chances of survival are.”
“I didn’t realize we were talking about my survival,” I say in a dry voice.
He smirks, and suddenly, I’m painfully aware that I’m very close to making him laugh. “In the presence of a dragon, it will always and forever be about your own survival, kitten. Remember this.”
Huh? I wonder who came up with that rule.
While I’m successfully threatened to an inch of my sanity, I’m not going to act intimidated.
Sutherland watches me, and I watch him watching me. Like before, I don't blink my eyes. He grins at me and raises up his gaze, looking again at someplace inside his own endless memory. “Magic sustains us, and we sustain magic. Over time and through conflict, there is always some lost from the world, but it is us, dragons, who create more. There are many races of immortals. You needn’t bother knowing all of them, but know this, the greatest magic is found among the creatures of the woodlands who live in the shrinking wilderness away from human civilization. They have but one form, one unending lifespan, and never reincarnate. But they are forbidden to govern this magic on their own. The gryphons are the natural rulers of all the creatures, immortal or not. Only dragons stand above them. That is our hierarchy. That is how we have retained our existence for countless ages, until the Black Death four hundred years ago—”
“You mean the plague in Europe? That happened way before—”
“No, kitten, shush. Don’t interrupt. The Black Death is the name of a war, and the pseudonym of the dragon who started it. It was an explosion following centuries of conflict that wiped out most of us in the course of ten years. It only ended when we managed to unite our forces for the first time in history and destroy the memory of the Black Death’s true name, thus annihilating him forever. But there were less of us in the aftermath, and we were all tainted by this. We hurried to go back to our old ways and habits—immortals possess a terrible gift of adapting to the changes in the world without ever changing themselves—but the significant lessening of overall magic slowly began to cause some of us to fade and others to plummet into madness.
“Most of us—myself included—experienced a time of peace and comfort. I had sustained wounds during the war, wounds that wouldn’t heal even after several lifetimes. We were all blind to the signs, blind toward what was happening. Only one gryphon, Orien, saw where we were headed.”
Suddenly, he looks at me again. I straighten up. I got lost in the story, my mind filled with monsters battling within the faraway worlds of the past. I shake my head, fighting the urge to blink once more.
“As the magic slowly ebbs away, we’re all fading from this world, kitten,” he says, “Orien could not convince anyone that oblivion was becoming our greatest enemy. He was himself trapped and subject to torture under Revenna, his clan leader and the greatest gryphon who ever lived.”
Revenna—I’ve heard that name before. I can’t really remember at the moment. “Wait a minute, are you talking about Landon?”
“Orien has reincarnated as Landon in this life,” Sutherland replies.
I wave my hand. “Okay, go on.”
Sutherland’s lip curls. He appears to find my attitude entertaining, which is clearly a bad thing. But it’s like I can’t stop being an idiot. The moment I let go of common sense when I opened that letter, I became a big blob of nonsense.
“Even back then, Orien had a plan, a sound theory that would allow him to trace and reawaken the magic that was lost, but he was killed before he could carry it out. In recent years, what was happening to us became evident to all when more and more immortals died and their true names were lost from memory. I sought Orien out and helped him destroy Revenna, but I fear we are already too late.”
I don’t know what to make of this story. Monsters exist in the world, but pretty soon, they’re going to stop existing? Oh well. “What’s all this got to do with me?” I ask.
“That’s a good question, kitten.” I don’t know how I know, but the dragon’s pleased with me. It makes a cold shiver pass over my skin. Whatever’s happening here, he’s enjoying it. “The end of magic and immortals will be the end of everything. Everything is intertwined. The apparent cannot continue to exist without what is secret. But of course, an unusual human such as yourself won’t care about the end of the world.”
I shrug. “You’re right. I don’t see what the big deal is if everything just stops existing. I mean, if everyone’s dead, then who cares?”
“What if you were given the power to stop the end?”
“Is this power hypothetical? Because I think it would be better if you tell me what you’re actually saying here.”
Sutherland holds my gaze again. Interacting with a dragon is giving me a headache, but I’m starting to like this sort of silent war that’s going on between us. It’s like a dance, and I’m somehow keeping up with the steps even though I’ve never been taught how to. With every turn, I meet success, which gives me a tremendous thrill. I’m starting to feel excited for no reason aside from how the shadows around Sutherland seep into my soul.
“This power can be true, and it can be indirect. When the moment comes, you will make your choice. But for now, we’ll discuss Orien’s situation.”
I don’t know what he's talking about, but I have a feeling that trying to press the issue will only make him laugh. I uncross and re-cross my legs. “I’m listening.”
“Orien is a Ziz,
one of the twelve Royal gryphons more powerful than the rest. The Ziz possess a gift that is feared among immortals—it is the gift of extracting the very magic out of a separate entity and using it for their own gain.”
I remember on the hill how everything became grey and dead before bursting with unnatural green life. I see the monster that the gryphon latched itself onto, and how the rest cowered in fear. So that’s what Landon was doing.
“Extracting the magic from an immortal,” Sutherland continues, “is the end of that immortal’s life. However, their magic continues to be contained within Orien and isn’t lost. In our current situation, when even a fraction of magic lost could mean a rushed downslide toward the end, this gift has become essential. However, Orien has erred.”
“You mean, he made a mistake?”
“A grave mistake.” The dragon nods his head. “A few days ago, he was ambushed by our enemies. He used his gift on a sphinx, an immortal of the woodlands. These are ancient immortals who have a single lifespan. They do not die and reincarnate, and therefore, their power is almost limitless. It is also a different type of magic that doesn’t co-exist with the gryphon’s own natural magic. And he’s filled with it to the brim. He does not have any control over his own body anymore, unable to retain one form for more than a few minutes. It’s destroying him.”
“So Landon is dying?” I don’t know how I think about this. It’s too much to take in, and it doesn’t feel real. Actually, everything that’s happening right now is just like one big game of make-believe. “Is there anything he can do?”
“Perhaps.” Sutherland doesn’t seem too disturbed about the situation. He’s in perfect control and completely relaxed as if everything that’s happening here has nothing to do with him. “Orien must change the nature of the magic he absorbed. But he’s a survivor, not a fighter, and right now, that’s his biggest problem.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, leaning forward on the edge of the seat and looking straight at Sutherland. “You want me to give him motivation to win this? You want me to convince him to fight?”
He grins broadly at my words. His smile is like the smile of death, and makes a rush of adrenaline pump through my blood. Keeping company with a dragon is a powerful drug. “Clever little kitten,” he says in a musical voice. “That’s exactly what I intend for you to do.”
Sutherland doesn’t even give me the option of voicing my opinion about his plan. “You can go now,” he says, nodding at the door. The elevator chimes in the other room, and I hear behind me the sound of its doors sliding open.
I’ve just been dismissed. But I’m not going to act on my urge to run out. As the fear begins to build up again, I look at the dark opening behind the bookcase. “What would’ve happened if I had gone in?” I ask.
“I would’ve been highly entertained.”
Well, gee. I’m definitely annoyed now. “You have got to stop playing with your food,” I say, rising to my feet. I turn to leave but then freeze, as behind me, there’s a rumbling, raspy sound of laughter, like the crackling of flames. I whisk around to face my doom.
“I do love playing games, kitten,” he whispers with a smile.
I roll my eyes and turn around. So that thing about not making the dragon laugh—was that the hobgoblin’s version of a prank? I keep my back straight as I walk away, feeling Sutherland’s gaze on me the whole time.
* * *
I don’t press any of the buttons in the elevator. I know I don’t have to. The doors close when I’m inside, and the LED screen is blank as the elevator rushes down, coming to a halt a moment later. The doors slide open to reveal a long, dark, and deserted corridor. I stand there for several moments before stepping out.
Instantly, the elevator closes behind me. A little ways off, right where the decrepit corridor forks with another, there’s a single light. I head toward it with my footfalls padding silently over boring grey carpeting, the kind you typically find in offices. I assume that that’s what this whole floor was supposed to be. There’s a deep, powdery silence that smothers my ears. The air is stale and smells of lonely darkness.
I reach the light that suddenly begins to flicker. I eye it skeptically. I’m not scared, not scared, not scared . . .
Then the screaming starts.
It comes from one of the rooms further down the corridor. Up until now, I just sailed through this whole experience as if I was in a dream. But my heart gives a big jolt in my chest, and I realize that the person who is screaming right now is Landon and that, yes, monster that he is, I actually care.
I pick up my pace, hurrying toward the sound, when suddenly, from one of the rooms, flames burst out into the corridor. I lift my arms to shield my face from the sudden light and heat, moving a few paces back as a child-sized man comes running out from among the flames, swearing loudly.
“Who’s there?” He coughs when he notices me.
“It’s me, Sophie,” I say as I continue to walk backwards. I can’t even describe the sound coming from that room right now.
The small man laughs. “I told him he’s got nothing to worry about. He thought you were dragon meat.”
“That’s insulting.”
“That’s what I said, but he’s been throwing a tantrum over it,” says Charlie. “Hey, eagle-breath.” The midget-man raises his voice. “You got a visitor.”
“Shut up,” comes a rasping voice from within the room.
“No, you shut up,” I shout.
“Sophie?”
I cross my arms. “What?”
“You came,” Landon says softly, “at a very bad time.”
“Oh? Should I have waited till after you were dead?”
“I don’t think you should be here.”
I take a step forward, passing over the spot where the grey carpet is smoldering. “Sutherland was charming.” I continue walking.
“You met him?” He nearly squeaks this question in obvious discomfort. “Did he say anything about me?”
“Just that you’re an idiot,” I say, stepping over a concrete floor soft with white ash. I stop in the doorway. Landon sits on the ash-covered floor in the empty room. I can see by the light that’s coming in from the big bare window that he’s shirtless, with his back to me and his muscles rippling beneath his skin. He sits there, hugging his knees with his head bowed down.
“Did he hurt you?” he asks nervously.
“Why would he hurt me?”
Hearing my voice from close by, Landon’s whole body jerks around to face me. “Sophie, please stay back,” he says in a trembling voice.
“You won’t hurt me, right?” I say. I sound calm, but I really want to run back to the safety of the corridor. Where did those flames come from? I have to admit that out of all the monsters I met today, he’s the one who scares me.
Because there’s a piece of my heart that refuses to let go of him. A part of me still finds him attractive. I still remember our time together, and the memory becomes stronger when I hear his voice, particularly when he says my name.
He crouches down on the floor, bowing his head. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Sophie, please.”
I cross my arms and lean against the scorched doorframe. I need to give him motivation to fight. “Then. Don’t. Hurt. Me.” I emphasize each word, cutting him a glare.
“Sophie,” he hisses, doubling down as he clutches his chest. “Please leave.”
“Don’t be so ungrateful, Landon. I came to you despite what you are. I came, and I’m here now. I talked to a fucking dragon. Hell, I got a history lesson from him. The least you can do to show your appreciation is man up.”
Landon grunts and slaps the ground with both his hands, sweat breaking across his back as he starts screaming again. He’s trying to close his mouth, to keep it down, but his body twitches in obvious pain. Then he stops screaming and starts talking rapidly in some other language that sounds like German. He lies down flat on the floor, his body shivering and contracting as if he’s possessed.
I take a step back, but Charlie appears at my side, looking down at Landon. “Oh, look, he’s doing the German thing again,” he says.
“He does this a lot?”
“Only when he’s losing his mind. German was the last language he spoke when he was free, before the war and Revenna’s madness. He was the Ziz stationed over central Europe at the time. That’s a lot of power for a small guy like him.”
Landon curls on the floor, his raving in German growing louder to the point of shouting, and then becomes a whisper, and then he laughs and talks and shouts and whispers again.
“What’s he saying?”
“A lot of nonsense,” Charlie answers, shaking his head. “But I think it’s his inner monologue from when the war started and everything came crashing down around him. If you live a lot, you grow numb to life, and that makes us all rather cold. But not this guy. He’s the odd one out. He was the butt of many jokes, I’ll have you know. Now, look at us, we’re the biggest bunch of cynics the world has known, and we’ve got all our hopes pinned on a romantic lunatic.”
“Why are you telling me all this? Are you trying to play into my sympathies, Charlie?” I snap.
“Yeah.”
“Damn it, it’s working,” I tell him, grinding ash beneath the toes of my converse.
Charlie jerks his head toward Landon. “Go for it, sweetheart. I’ll watch your back.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring.” I should back out now, but I take one step into the room, and then another and another. I stand over Landon’s writhing body as the endless string of German words still falls from his lips. I crouch down, reach out, and touch his shoulder.
He looks up at me with wide, crazed eyes that have no recognition in them.
“Okay, sweetheart, just back up now, real slow.” Charlie’s not yelling, but his words are so pronounced, he might as well have been.
At the sound of Charlie’s voice, Landon scrabbles away, climbing halfway up the wall, and I lose my balance, slipping on the dusty floor and falling onto my butt.