It does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. Dragons may not have much real use for all their wealth, but they know it to an ounce as a rule, especially after long possession; and Smaug was no exception.
-The Hobbit
The heat struck me as soon as I materialised outside the Stave Church of Nesbyen. The small town is the location with the highest recorded temperature in Norway – or so the State Department briefing paper had assured me – but it felt somewhat excessive for a location so far north, just below the Artic Circle. It was high summer in Norway, to be fair, but as I looked to the north and sensed the waves of magic flaring off the mountains in the distance, I wondered if it was more than that. Dragons breathe fire, after all, and the only way we have to track them is through heat-tracking sensors. They might be massive creatures – the largest recorded is only a little smaller than a full-sized aircraft carrier – but they are almost impossible to track. It’s just something else that we don’t understand about the changes in our world.
I felt glum for a long second. I had known – and Wilkinson’s maps had made it clear to us – that it was no longer our world, but in the cities, it was easy to forget that fact. True, there was no longer any kind of nightlife in most of the world, with people hurrying home to lock the doors before night fell and supernatural creatures emerged to prey on the unwary. The thought reminded me of the Vampire I had agreed to hunt and I cursed under my breath. A few years ago, there had been modern big-game hunts for idiots with more money than sense, hunting the supernatural creatures. The first few parties had been slaughtered and that put an end to that.
The compass felt heavy in my hand as it twisted in my hand, finally pointing towards the mountains. I shrugged, pocketed the compass, and started to walk through the town, noting the presence of hundreds of tents and shacks surrounding the town. The dragons that settled in Scandinavia are a major tourist attraction and Nesbyen needs it desperately. Before the barriers broke down, Nesbyen was a rich village, thanks to all the hydroelectric installations nearby. Once the supernatural creatures arrived, something happened to most of the installations and they had never been re-established. The Norwegians weren't talking, but my guess was that they had tried armed confrontation and it had failed spectacularly.
I found the road leading up towards the mountains and followed it carefully, despite the pull of the compass. The forests were beautiful – Norway is a truly beautiful country, with fantastic mountains, fjords and nature reserves – but I knew better than to risk walking through the woods. Even if there wasn't anything lurking in the forests, from giant spiders to werewolves and ghosts, it would be far more effort to walk cross-country. After I passed the last collection of small huts, I was completely alone, apart from the ever-present birdsong. Oddly, I almost felt happy. I could have enjoyed a vacation here in my youth.
The State Department papers claimed that there had once been a major tourist industry in the mountains, with small huts rented out to tourists who wanted to stay well away from the distractions of modern life. The presence of the dragons and the infestation of other magical creatures had put a stop to that as well, leaving a number of abandoned huts, while the handful of families who had refused to vacate their property had eventually been picked off, one by one. There were unconfirmed reports that dragon-worshippers had tried making the trek up to see their idols up close, but even if the dragons didn’t hurt them – and there were no reports of dragons making unprovoked attacks on humans – the other creatures would. They’d probably be dead for centuries before any observing dragon even registered their presence, let alone their deaths. The dragons were an alien culture, I recalled, and it was wise to keep that in mind. They weren't human.
I paused for a rest as the road – it was more of a track at this point – came out of the forest and glanced up towards the mountain ahead…and froze. A dragon was perched on the mountain, staring around at its domain, its wings spread out in silent challenge to all comers. I had never seen a dragon in its natural habitat before and the sight held me spellbound. I was convinced, as I caught a glimpse of red eyes staring out over the landscape, that it knew that I was there. I knew, now, why some people worshipped the dragons. I was like a mouse under the predatory eye of a falcon.
The dragon looked away and I relaxed, staring down at the ground. I wanted to believe that I had won the staring contest, but I knew that the dragon hadn’t cared about me, or the contest. I had been beneath its notice. I glanced down at the compass, wondering if it was the dragon I had been sent to visit, but the compass was pointing in a different direction. I shrugged and walked on, trying to ignore the oppressive presence high above, and the sense of growing threat surrounding me. It was not a safe place for a lone human.
I didn’t dare stop as the next two hours wore on. The heat seemed to be constantly rising, sending sweat dripping down my back and thighs, and I sipped more water, perhaps, than I should have taken. The ever-full flask kept replenishing itself, but I could feel the odd twists in the magic field surrounding me. I shouldn’t have risked drinking the water, but there was little choice. I couldn’t have gone on without it. It would have been easier if the dragons had been moving, or flying in the air high above, but they just watched from their perches. As time passed, I thought I recognised a pattern. They were defending their rights against their fellows. The little we knew about dragon culture suggested that they were a highly individualistic society, watching their fellows carefully for…what? Betrayal? Ambition? I remembered an old skit about gunfighters in a Western, each of them fingering his pistol and watching the others carefully, waiting for someone else to draw and plunge them into a bloody skirmish. The dragons seemed to have something of the same attitude about them.
The compass twisted again and sent me off the track, leading me towards the only mountain peak that seemed to be deserted. The tiny path looked to have been abandoned for months, at least, and I found myself scrambling up carefully, prickly bushes scratching at my bare arms. I almost plunged into an anthill, barely avoiding a fall right into the midst of the ants, catching myself just in time. The ants might have been harmless, or they might have been changed and warped by the magic field. Under other circumstances, I would have been fascinated by the chance to study them, but there was no time. I reached the top of the mountain, finally, and scowled down at the compass, cursing Gorwen under my breath. Who knew what that strange dragon had been thinking?
I found a rock, large enough to serve as a comfortable seat, and settled down to catch my breath. Gorwen was one of a handful of dragons who actually talked to us, although rarely to any point. No one was quite sure if Gorwen represented all of the dragons, or if he was acting completely on his own, but it hardly mattered. The sum total of all the talks between humanity and the dragons consisted of a vague agreement to concede the mountains of Scandinavia to the dragons and leave them alone. The dragons, unlike some of the other supernatural creatures, didn’t seem inclined to start a fight over every misunderstanding. They just wanted to be left alone.
A shadow fell over me and I glanced up, involuntarily. The dragon had appeared out of nowhere. I should have sensed a magical field that powerful from miles away, but he had – somehow – managed to sneak up on me. He moved with a graceful sinuous motion, his wings seeming to hang in the air, casting a shadow over the mountain. I held on to my emotions somehow, despite my hindbrain screaming at me to flee the mountains and never look back, as the dragon settled neatly to the mountaintop. The colossal size of the creature was beyond belief. He was very nearly the size of a Galaxy transport aircraft.
Where does a thousand-pound dragon sit? My mind gibbered, as the dragon folded his winds with an audible rustling sound, the first sound he had made. Answer? Anywhere he wants to sit.
The dragon reared up, exposing his underbelly and the unique patterning on the scales, and I realised with a shock that I recognised him. The dragon called himself Drak Bibliophile, the one
time he had talked to humanity, when he had delivered the answer to the long-forgotten question. Hundreds of psychologists had written thousands of theories on the name, wondering if it was a real name or a dragon’s idea of a joke, but looking at him now, I knew that they hadn’t even guessed the truth.
He was a European dragon, with massive wings and golden eyes, rather than the red of the other dragons. It might have meant something, or it might simply be a sign of age. As we understood it, there was no limit to the size any given dragon might reach and Drak Bibliophile was very old indeed, even by their standards. His wings, even folded, looked powerful enough to knock down a city if he fluttered them. I barely noticed the tiny hairs surrounding his massive head, or the long snake-like tale. I was awed by his majesty, held spellbound by his colossal size…
I couldn’t understand how he could fly. A creature that size should be a permanent cripple, held down by Earth’s gravity. The only answer was magic. The theorists believed that dragons somehow tapped the magical field to propel themselves through the air, but even that seemed unbelievable. We had seen dragons keeping pace with the fastest aircraft in the world and yet…they never seemed to disturb the air. They generated no sonic booms, no noticeable signs of their presence; hell, they never even showed up on radar. The theorists were really tearing their hair out over that one.
He cleared his throat meaningfully and I caught myself, stepping forward and holding out the compass. “Most mighty dragon,” I said, stumbling through the words, “I come to seek converse with you, as you have directed.”
I felt silly – stupid, even – making such a speech, but the dragon didn’t seem to notice – or care about – my hesitation. He extended one long foreclaw – it was larger than my entire body – and took the compass with surprising grace. Up close, I could smell a scent of…something lurking just inside my perception, a hint of suppressed power, perhaps even a hint of cold iron. Legend had it that dragons had metal skins, maybe even golden skins, but perhaps they were wrong. If the dragons had somehow managed to overcome cold iron’s effect on magic…no wonder the Faerie disliked them. Cold iron was the one thing known to be lethal to them.
“There is danger coming,” the dragon said, suddenly. I had expected a voice that would shake the very mountain itself, but instead it was calm, almost sedate. It might have been some kind of telepathy, rather than a real voice, although there was no way to be sure. It dawned on me, suddenly, that Drak Bibliophile was trying not to annoy the other dragons. They had all shifted their position, watching him – us – with their unblinking red eyes. I felt small and tiny under their gaze. “Look to the children of magic. There is danger coming.”
I stared up at the massive face. Somehow, it was hard to see it as monstrous, despite the size. It might even be friendly. I had the odd feeling, suddenly, that we – humanity – were a lot closer to the dragons than we were to the Faerie. The dragons might be alien, very alien, but they didn’t mean us any harm. Their power could devastate entire cities…but instead, they just wanted to be left alone.
“Danger?” I said, puzzled. I had expected more after my long walk. It might have been high summer – and it would never go completely dark in summer here – but walking back in twilight would be dangerous, very dangerous. I was already wondering if I dared teleport back home. “What kind of danger is coming?”
The dragon’s long neck twisted, rearing up in the air like the Loch Ness Monster. It was long moments before he spoke again. “Danger,” Drak Bibliophile repeated. “The walls that were ordered to remain unbroken will break. The centre cannot hold. Darkness will be unleashed on the world. Look to the children of magic.”
I recognised the misquote – although it was an open question if the dragon did – but I still felt a wave of frustration. Somehow, I had expected a proper diplomatic discussion, not…cryptic messages. It occurred to me, suddenly, that Drak Bibliophile was telling me all he could. The looming presence of the other dragons seemed to dominate the entire discussion. Had there been a debate among the dragons, I wondered suddenly, as to how much he could tell me? Were the others waiting to see if he would keep his word…or were they there to obliterate the pair of us if he said too much? I remembered the one time we had seen two dragons fighting. Between them, they had knocked down almost an entire forest. The winner had been so badly wounded that he might as well have been dead.
Drak Bibliophile seemed to sense my frustration. His great eyes flickered down, in the direction of the lake far below. It was a haunting sight and, under other circumstances, I would have loved to go fishing in the lake. Or maybe not; as my eyes grew accustomed to the blue water, I saw the mermaids floating just under the surface. They, too, had appeared from Faerie, but they didn’t like the oceans now. The pollution of a hundred years of industrial development had poisoned the waters, as far as they were concerned; they preferred to stay in inshore lakes, where the water was cleaner. I wondered if the Norwegian Government even knew that they had a mermaid colony up here. A motion down on the ground caught my eye and I winched as I saw the troll, a great shambling parody of humanity, as he glared down at the mermaids, and then flinched away from the dragons. Trolls had very little magic of their own – they can be killed by assault rifles – and despite their stupidity, no troll would want to tangle with a dragon. The massive club it was dragging behind it versus teeth, claws and fiery breath? It wouldn’t even be a contest.
I looked back at Drak Bibliophile. “You’re protecting the mermaids?” I asked. It was so outside the normal run of dragon behaviour that I felt inclined to try to get a straight answer. “Why…?”
“They are important,” the dragon rumbled. I wondered just how important. Trolls are rare – they eat children, among other things, and very few people will suffer them to live – and there were parties calling for them to be moved to reservations. I doubted that it would get anywhere, but humanity might just try to save them. “Look down at the water.”
The water seemed to be glowing slightly in front of me, drawing me down into the shimmering light…and then I saw it. A violent barrage of images bore into my mind. I saw a darkness moving across the land, a burning city under attack from…something otherworldly, a face screaming in the darkness…and then nothing. I reeled backwards, cursing my own stupidity. I hadn’t bothered to put up any kind of protections before looking into the shimmer. The problem with having an open mind – quite literally – is that anything can just walk in and make itself at home. The mediums in San Francisco are demanding danger money these days after one was possessed by the ghost of a dead woman who refused to vacate her stolen body. The silly bitch had forgotten to ward herself properly first.
Drak Bibliophile waited until I had recovered myself. “That is coming,” he intoned. “Prepare yourself for its arrival.”
I recognised the dismissal, but refused to allow it to push me away. “Why me?” I asked. “Why did you call me here?”
“Glass,” Drak Bibliophile said. He sounded almost as if he were musing, rather than answering my question. “Glass is a very special substance.”
One golden eye seemed to flare at me…
…And then I was back in Nesbyen, right back where I had started.
“Son of a bitch,” I swore, with feeling. That answered one question. The dragons had probably been watching me ever since I had arrived. They could have spoken to me at any point, but instead they’d allowed me to make the walk to reach them instead. Perhaps I was wrong. We were two different races, after all. “What the hell was all that about?”
I found a small café, ordered a small meal, and opened my cell phone. As I had suspected, the recorder had creased to function just after I’d seen the first dragon. I called the Circle, gave a full report, and then settled back to enjoy my dinner. It wouldn’t be long before I was back in Washington and hunting a vampire.
Vampires.
Did I mention that I hate vampires?
Chapter Six
Giles: Well, you k
now what they say; ninety percent of the vampire slaying game is, is waiting.
Buffy: You couldn't have told me that ninety percent ago?
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Actually, I really fucking hate vampires.
Washington looks eerie at night these days, but then, most cities do. Back when I was a teenager, the cities didn’t go to bed at night, but sometimes partied all night. I remember watching my parents and their friends going out for an evening on the town. I even went out to a few parties myself, or took a girl I liked out for a meal and perhaps a quick make-out session. The advent of magic and the arrival of magical creatures changed that, too. These days, no one ventures out after dark unless it’s desperately important. The night no longer belongs to humanity.
I heard the howl of a werewolf in the distance as I walked down the empty street. I had taken the time to walk through the entire area in daylight, familiarising myself with the area, but it hadn’t taken long to realise that there was an aura of fear in the air. The citizens knew that there was a vampire in the area, after discovering the first bodies, and were being even more careful than usual. I doubted that anyone would risk coming out on the streets now…which left me as the only target. The Washington PD might have been unable to locate the creature, but they’d crunched the numbers and concluded that the vampire would be hunting again soon, perhaps even tonight. They might not be right. A vampire isn’t a creature of blind instinct, but a monster with a malign intelligence. It wasn't unknown for one of them to take a handful of people prisoner, place them in Thrall, and just use them as emergency rations. I might not meet the creature anytime soon.
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