A Dragon-Lover's Treasury of the Fantastic

by Margaret Weis

  This was assuming the dragon would move away from what was left of the fishing rod, of course. Something that large moved when it wanted to, she thought wryly. But to her amazement, the great beast backed carefully away from the splintered bits, then turned and moved away into the trees.

  Sarah didn’t wait to question her good luck. She swiftly gathered up the broken pieces and took them into the house. There, she wrapped them up in old newspapers before disposing of them in the trash can.

  She was on tenterhooks when James came home, but this time chance was with her. He’d brought home work from the office, and immediately after dinner he became immersed in it, only emerging when it was time for bed. Sarah breathed a grateful prayer for escaping—thus far—and went to bed herself. But she didn’t sleep well.

  * * *

  For several days James continued to be occupied by work. But one evening he came home early. She was in the kitchen, busy with a new pastry recipe, when he swept in, caught her up in a hug, and announced, “All finished up! And I’m taking a few well-earned days off.”

  She hugged him back. “That’s wonderful, James. You’ve been working so hard.”

  “That’s what Peter said when he told me to take the time. And I know just what I’m going to do—a little fishing.”

  Somehow she kept the smile fixed on her face, even though her stomach tightened. “Just what you need, some time to outwit a few trout.”

  He didn’t seem to notice her tension. “I’m going to change and go out to the workshop to get my gear ready. Pine Lake, here I come!” He released her and went into the bedroom to change out of his suit.

  She was glad her voice sounded so natural. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

  “Fine!” A minute later, he came through the kitchen and headed out the back door toward the workshop.

  Anxiety gnawed at her while she finished the pastry and prepared the salad and vegetables for the meal. But there was no sound of the workshop door slamming, no outburst of cursing. She started the meat cooking, then went out onto the front porch. Perhaps looking out over the stream would calm her down.

  It didn’t. The dragon was coiled up on the front lawn. Her fear increased sharply. James mustn’t see it! Why not? an inner voice asked. Just what would he do about it? What could he do about it? But it didn’t help her unreasoning certainty that she couldn’t let him see the dragon. It had to go away. So what are you going to do? Shoo it away with the broom? Get the Dragonsbane from the medicine cabinet?

  Without stopping to think how bizarre—or dangerous—her behavior appeared, she stepped off the porch and walked toward the beast. It watched her approach with unblinking eyes. Her steps slowed as she got nearer, until she stopped a few yards away.

  She hadn’t really realized how big the dragon was, until now. With the body curled up, it was difficult to tell its length, but its head alone was as big as her torso. And she noted with surprise that it had blue eyes. I never heard of a dragon with blue eyes, she thought. Of course, now that she thought of it, none of the stories she’d read about dragons mentioned their eye color at all. And there was something else about its eyes. Something about them was strangely familiar.…

  With a start, she remembered why she was out here: to somehow get the dragon to go away. As if it heard her unspoken thought, it uncoiled its body, and she backed hastily away. It paused for a moment to yawn, and Sarah felt her blood go cold at the glimpse of the daggerlike teeth lining upper and lower jaw. Then the vast mouth closed again. The creature regarded her steadily for another moment, then glided away into the trees. She watched it go with enormous relief, then returned to the kitchen and dinner.

  James came into the house just as she was about to call him, his face puzzled. “Sarah, have you seen my graphite rod?” he asked.

  Her anxiety returned in a sudden rush, but she kept her voice steady. “Why, no. I haven’t been inside the workshop for a long time, you know.”

  “Yes, yes, I know that. You haven’t run into it anywhere else, by any chance?”

  Her heart in her mouth, she replied, “No, I haven’t.”

  “Neither have I. It must have been one of the ones I loaned to Peter. It figures, now that I want to use it. I’ll have to ask him about it Monday. You can serve now.” And with that, he sat down at the table. To her relief, there was no further mention of the missing fishing rod.

  Sarah didn’t sleep well again that night. Between worrying about whether James would discover she was lying and wondering about the dragon’s continued presence, she tossed and turned through the dark hours.

  In the morning James noted her pale, tired face. “You’ve been looking run-down the last few days, Sarah.”

  “I haven’t been getting much sleep lately, that’s all.”

  “I think you should take it easy today while I’m gone. It’ll do you good.”

  “Well, perhaps after I get the housework done.”

  “That’ll be fine.” And giving her a peck on the cheek, he hurried out the door to finish loading the car for his fishing trip.

  After he left, she’d intended to start in on the housework, but the singing of the birds in the morning air lured her outside and down to the brook. The grassy bank, warmed and fragrant, invited her to lie back and bask in the sunlight. And she was so tired. She’d just close her eyes for a moment.…

  “Sarah!” James’ angry voice snapped her awake. He was standing above her, furious. She blinked, glancing about hastily, and realized from the angle of the sun how late it was. Why, she had been so weary she must have slept all day! “Sarah! You’re not listening to me!” She realized James was still talking to her and scrambled to her feet. “I come home and what do I find? The breakfast dishes still undone! Dinner not started!”

  It must have been because she wasn’t fully awake that she was so reckless. “But James, it’s not as if the dishes had to be done. I’ll do them tonight. And I’ll start dinner right away and we can eat in half an hour.”

  “I don’t expect to have to wait for my dinner because my wife has been wasting the day sleeping!”

  “But you said I should take it easy today, that I wasn’t getting enough rest.…” Her voice trailed away as she saw his face.

  “Are you contradicting me, Sarah?”

  She lowered her eyes and replied in a low voice, “No, James.”

  “It certainly sounded to me like you were. No wife of mine contradicts me. I’m going to have to correct you for this.”

  Fear, her familiar friend, returned. “I’m sorry, James.”

  “That’s too bad, Sarah. Apologies aren’t enough. You seem to delight in thwarting me, and I’m going to punish you for it. Come along.” He turned and started up the sloping lawn to the house.

  And once again, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dragon. It seemed to shine red-gold in the rays of the late afternoon sun. She hastily focused her attention on James’ back. Right now she had more important things to worry about. Dutifully she followed him.

  Once they were inside the house, she turned toward the bedroom, but his voice stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going, Sarah?”

  Timidly, she answered “I thought you wanted to…”

  “I want you to fix my dinner first. We’ll deal with your laziness and insubordination later.”

  Dread ran through her. But what could she do? “Yes, James, of course. I’ll start it right away.”

  And as she drearily started her preparations, she could hear James in the bedroom making his preparations for after the meal: the sound of a limber rod whipping through the air and smashing down on the pillow. The sound sickened her.

  The next morning she hurt so much she didn’t want to move; her back, buttocks and thighs throbbed with pain. But James, as usual, behaved as if nothing at all had happened the night before. “Good morning, Sarah. It’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you get up and we’ll have breakfast together out on the lawn?”

  Her voice was muff
led. “I’m afraid I don’t feel very well, James. Thank you all the same, but I think I’ll stay in bed for a while.”

  “Can I bring you something to eat? Or some juice or coffee?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll just rest for a while.”

  “Whatever you wish.” He finished dressing and left the room. Once alone, she managed to roll out of bed and moved unsteadily into the bathroom. She opened the cabinet and took out a bottle of painkilling tablets. It was safe to take them now—James didn’t like to see the damage he caused during the sessions in the bedroom. Then she walked stiffly back into the bedroom and lay down again in her customary position, on her stomach, waiting for the pills to ease the pain and make her drowsy. She was dimly aware of James coming in to brush his teeth, telling her he’d be out in his workshop. Then she drifted away into the arms of sleep. And seemed to feel the presence of the dragon at the edge of her mind, watching, waiting.

  By the following day, she didn’t hurt so much and was able to move around fairly easily. James was still asleep when she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, so the sound of the water filling the bathtub wouldn’t wake him. She stripped off her robe and turned so she could inspect the back of her body in the mirror. Well, at least it no longer looked quite so raw. With resignation, she poured baking soda into the lukewarm water, turning it into a soothing bath. She glanced at the mirror again, and the sight of the wounds striping her body suddenly enraged her. What right had he to do this to her? But just as quickly she pushed the mutinous thought down. James was her husband; she’d married him for better or worse, till death parted them. She took those vows very seriously.

  She turned to face the mirror. Count your blessings, she told herself wryly. At least he doesn’t hit you in the face. No black eyes for Sarah. Her eyes were one of her best features. She played up their blueness with…her thoughts stopped abruptly as she stared at her reflected face. The dragon had eyes exactly the shade of her eyes—that’s why they looked familiar! That would give anyone a shock—seeing a part of themself transformed into a monster like that.

  Seeing a part of themself transformed. Suddenly she remembered how the dragon had twice done what she wished it to. How it had nosed at the lavender, her favorite of all the plants in the garden. How it had known which fishing rod was James’ particular pet rod. How it appeared whenever she was particularly upset and frightened, when James…no! No! Coincidence. It had to be. It had to be! Such a monster couldn’t have anything to do with her! She was a gentle woman, a dutiful and loving wife. James once told her it was her gentleness that had attracted him most of all. Something that powerful and dangerous couldn’t be any part of her! It wasn’t her! There was a startling clash of breaking glass. She realized she’d smashed her clenched fist against the mirror, sobbing aloud.

  “Sarah! Are you all right?” James pulled the bathroom door open, shock in his face as he surveyed her tear-stained face, the broken mirror, her bleeding hand.

  “No! Get away from me!” she sobbed, throwing on her robe and brushing past him.

  “Sarah! Come back here! Sarah!” He was coming after her, and she couldn’t bear to face him, not right now.

  “Leave me alone!” She ran into the kitchen, then the living room, her heart racing.

  “Sarah, come here! Now!” He was getting closer.

  “Go away!” she cried.

  “Are you defying me, missy?” His voice was loud and angry, and as he entered the living room, she saw he was infuriated with her.

  She ran out onto the porch, down the steps, to the lawn. If she could only get away—She stumbled over the edge of a flower bed and fell to the ground. She could hear his footsteps, his harsh breathing, and rolled over to face him, ignoring the fierce ache in her back and buttocks. His face was flushed and he reached down to grab her arm, jerking her up to her feet—

  —there was a roar behind them. James turned, disbelief and fear on his face when he saw the dragon, glowing fiery red, rearing above him. It roared again, mouth gaping wide, those vicious teeth gleaming in the morning light. The great head snaked down and the jaws closed around his torso. He screamed in terror and agony as the monster effortlessly lifted him high in the air. Sarah watched in horror as he struggled feebly in the dragon’s grip, screaming again and again until the jaws crunched closed, cutting the awful sounds off. Then with terrible ease, the neck corkscrewed sideways as the dragon flung the body away.

  Sarah sank to the ground, shaking. It seemed deathly quiet now. The dragon curled up, watching her quietly. It no longer glowed red but was its original rusty color.

  She sat there for a long time, until the dragon had gone and the shaking stopped.

  She’d have to call the police. She’d tell them she’d heard the sounds of a bear, a grizzly, that it attacked her husband, that she’d heard the screams. She—they—didn’t own a gun, so the police wouldn’t expect her to be able to rush to James’ defense. “No, we didn’t hunt, officer,” she could hear herself saying. “My husband enjoyed fishing, but—” she could hear the break in her voice that would come there.

  They’d believe her. Really, there was no other possible explanation, was there? And they’d be nice to her. A new widow who had just lost her husband thanks to the attack of a wild beast? They’d treat her gently. That would be a nice change after the way James treated her.

  They’d better be nice to her. After all, if they weren’t, the dragon would come back.…

  LAST DRAGON

  Steve Rasnic Tem

  Alec thrashed in bed. His muscles cramped. His right arm flapped and struck his chest. He had been dreaming that his wife’s tongue was scraping at his eyes, his son’s fingers clawing his shoulders. So real that his night’s sweat was irritating the wounds.

  His left fist tightened reflexively and made a painful knot under his lower back.

  His body felt huge and unmanageable. It rocked and shook out of control.

  His eyes sprang open and tried to focus. He coughed into his sheets and, terrified of choking, managed to turn his mouth to the side.

  On Sunday mornings, he used to hide in bed until noon. His mother warned him about what happened to lazy boys who didn’t go to church.

  His father used to toss him into the air, too high. He’d kept his arms rigid and immobile at his sides in fright. This one thing had frightened him, this one thing. He’d never flown before, and it had scared him. No logical power could hold him up. It was magic.

  “Daddy! Stop!”

  “Fly, Alec! Fly! I won’t drop you!”

  Then one day his father did drop him. Alec had fallen slowly, trying to push his arms out to break the fall. But he had been immobile. For just a few moments, he had been paralyzed.

  Alec was fully awake now. The room was dark; heavy curtains covered most of the walls. “Light,” he whispered. Nothing. Someday, as the sclerosis increasingly affected his throat, the house’s computer would have to be reprogrammed to allow for a wider range in interpreting vocal commands. But this morning he knew it was just fatigue, just a lack of focus. He concentrated, and after a time again said, “Light.” Curtains pulled back; ceiling panels began to glow dimly. “Light light light,” he said, and the brightness increased almost to daytime intensity. He could feel Earth’s sun beyond the sheer yellow gauze that covered the windows, and soothing familiarity chased away the night’s last alien dreams.

  Earth’s sun. He had to remind himself. He saw so little of the outside world that he could have just as easily been on Bennett, sleeping in the corporate headquarters there.

  His throat burned from getting the lights on. And there was always this additional strain, not knowing if it was going to work anymore, if he was going to be left whispering in the dark, his throat aching, a headache blossoming from his attempts. He could have used the timer and saved his voice, but he never did. Each morning he wanted to make sure his larynx still worked.

  Rick should have been up by now. Alec hated waiting; it made him fee
l helpless. But if he complained, the man might quit, and Alec wasn’t up for another change.

  The entire house could be equipped with personal-care robotic handlers and controllers. It wouldn’t cost him much; a few technicians from one of his plants could install the whole works. But he wanted humans around him, touching him, not a house full of metal arms. And robotic amplification wasn’t anything like doing it on his own, anyway. At least he did have the choice. He was Alec Bennett. That name had control over people and things, even if the man behind the name did not.

  Today, his wife and children were moving out of the house. He hadn’t had the power to hold them, the words to convince them to stay. Most of the arguments had stopped this past year—he’d felt relieved. He’d thought things were going to be okay now. But they’d all just been avoiding him, not saying what they felt, not wanting to provoke an argument. They were hiding from him.

  The last big argument had been a year ago with his older son, Gene, fifteen at the time. It had been typical—unproductive, frustrating. And frightening, because now Gene was old enough to really hurt him if the argument went too far, if the volatile teenager were to lose control. That had become the peak of Alec’s feelings of helplessness: to be frightened of his own son. It made him ashamed, and yet now he missed all the arguing—at least then his son was talking to him.

  “You can’t tell me what to do!” Gene had looked almost crazy in his anger, and as the boy continued to shout, Alec found himself wondering at what terrible thing he had brought home to them all.

  “The aide quit, Gene. And my tube’s popped. See, it runs down through the bedding and attaches to the pumps under the floor—”