A Most Refined Dragon

by Paul Chernoch

  The tattered barrier shrank, and she remained on the wrong side. “No!” Melissa filled her lungs, compelled the water in her sacs to bubble and froth and split the remedy for fire into its cause. As the hydrogen built up in her gut, she felt buoyant and floated away. Away was not where she wanted to go. Instinct drove her, and fire streamed out and around, tumbling like ejecta from a geyser. It was like she was back in White Talon’s cave, the first time she ever breathed fire, when her nature transformed the burning, death-dealing agent into a healing balm. She wanted orange, but got blue instead.

  Blue flame healed the rift – and pulled Melissa through. Blue flame healed Kilgain, and made the Lissai solid. Solid meant she could hurt them. “Leave him alone!” She charged Silverthorn and pounced, knocking him over. He did not resist. His eyes were filled with shame, and he looked aside as she prepared to slash his neck with her claws.

  “Stop!” Kilgain inserted his paw between her and Silverthorn.

  Melissa got off of Silverthorn and backed up, panting. The light was fading, and the dark word of twisted metal and cold stone returning. She glared at the Silvers in silence.

  “This world,” said Kilgain, “has water, but no food. For this last migrata, I have sustained them. It is my free offer, not their violence, that daily yields my flesh and blood for their food. Seeing you, I know their distress and mine are complete. Welcome, White Talon.”

  While she panted, the lissairn bowed before her. The shame in Silverthorn’s eyes haunted theirs, but also relief.

  “Mirrorwing told me you saved his fellows,” said Melissa. “He did not tell me how.”

  “Mirrorwing lives!” Silverthorn looked upward with gratitude on his face. “And he sent my love to rescue me.”

  “Mirrorwing went to find your love, but found me instead. I am not White Talon. She is… gone.”

  Eyes blinked and heads looked from side to side, but no words were spoken.

  “Kilgain, your Orokolga waits for you. She is near, her love undiminished, sister to you in your pain.” Melissa faced Silverthorn. “White Talon was attacked and nearly died. Her spirit was cut loose and we exchanged places. I am from the other world. I am a Hand.”

  The chorus of forceful inhalations was deafening.

  “Among your people, those who know me best call me Melissa K'Naribo.” Before they had a chance to take in this latest revelation, she said, “And this is what the daughter of the rainbow sees.” She inhaled, spun in a slow circle and sprayed their eyes with blue flame. When the flame-induced tears in their eyes stopped flowing, they beheld the garden world of Here, and better tears took their place.

  Vines heavy with grapes hung beside Silverthorn’s head, but their fragrance was as poison to him. He recoiled, saw Kilgain, and lay prostrate before him. “Our weak faith blinded us to plenty all around, and you paid a horrible price needlessly. Lord Kilgain, we are guilty, and submit to your justice.”

  “The only justice I seek is to be reunited with Orokolga.”

  “I know the way,” said Melissa, “but we must hurry. We are in brightest Here, and the gateway to Nehenoth is in darkest There. If we remain here long, I fear we may never return. You are too weak for a long hike, much less to fly. Eat and gather your strength.”

  While they foraged ravenously, she went airborne and found the fading image of her Shoroko. She dove and savaged tree and stone with outstretched claws to mark the way along the ground. When she reached Shoroko she called to him. “Can you see me?”

  Shoroko pulled his hands from the muck that was a machine and stood. “Melissa? I hear you. Where are you?”

  She touched him with her paw. “I am touching you.”

  “I– I feel you, but so far away. What happened?”

  “How are the repairs?”

  “Nearly finished. Where is Poonrapi?”

  “Bound. I found Lord Silverthorn, Kilgain and the others. They are weak. I will lead them here. We are fading, leaving this world and entering another. It has food and light. If you do not see me again, I love you.” She couldn’t stay. If she saw his face, heard his voice again, she could never leave his side.

  Melissa found the others and led them through jungle, forest and field. I wish it were only Poonrapi and her army standing in our way. Herding a score of malnourished monsters past orchards and berry patches is a miserable business. When the birds reappeared, her pulse raced. When blurry figures leapt across their path, she walked faster. Stags with large racks materialized on the cliff overlooking their trail. “Can you fly? We are almost to our destination, yet nearly lost. Watch the flower petals; they reveal up and down better than your eyes.”

  One by one the Silvers took to the air.

  “Hlisskan Kilgain, you and I run.” She galloped and the golden savior of the Silvers followed at her heels. Minutes later they reached the place she’d marked. They were there, but they were not “There”. There was swamp, but no Shoroko. “Shoroko!” This time there was no answer.

  “We’ve languished here for seven years,” said Silverthorn. “Explain the urgency.”

  Melissa sat down. “It began when poisoned liosh made White Talon go crazy…” She summarized the events from her arrival up to the present. “With so many Lissai dead or wounded, the animals rose up and attacked the Census Stone. They flooded the tunnels under the hill that lead to the gateway chamber. Orokolga, Mirrowwing, and a few Hands and Claws hold it now. All civilization on Kibota stands threatened. If we do not succeed this very hour, we will have nothing to return to.”

  “This tumult you describe, when did it begin?” asked Silverthorn.

  “One month ago.” Melissa scratched her claws in the dirt. “Lord Silverthorn, I’m told you have unparalleled judgment. I judged White Talon to be without fault, then found her as guilty of jealousy as I am. I judged Lord Anspark a violent, power-mad tyrant and nearly undid both an honorable lissairn and our world. I judged Lord Tongaroi a traitor, and did not find him innocent until war took its toll. I considered Poonrapi a harmless slave to fashion and Genereef a loyal comrade, yet they betrayed us all. One by one, high and low have turned to me for leadership, but after one month, all is nearly lost. I fly the swiftest, see the farthest, heal the weakest, grow the fastest, fight the hardest, understand the obscurest, and begin to sniff the character of those I meet, but still I am failing. Wise ruler of centuries, what must I do?”

  “The wise ruler you think you see had many advisors. White Talon, Anspark, Tongaroi… Without their guidance I couldn’t have preserved the peace so long. Obtaining their trust and accomplishing all I did consumed centuries. This crisis is the fruit of problems that exceeded my wisdom. When you outpace the fastest, there is only one to whom you can run.”

  Melissa pounded the ground. “He won’t tell me his name!”

  “Keep asking,” said Kilgain.

  For what should I ask? Help to travel to another world? Command over the creatures so I can disperse them and end the madness of the census? A new body so I can live with Shoroko in peace? Millions before me asked for less and were denied. Who am I that any god would answer me? Melissa looked over at Kilgain, then raised her paw to point at him. “You deserve an answer, not me. You used your immortality and endured perpetual pain to sustain them. You are not selfish; I am. Kilgain, what is the name of the one who calls me? He said he’d help if I called him by name. Please, ask him for me.”

  Kilgain nodded and closed his eyes. A minute later, they opened in surprise. “Your ancestors built machines that could rule over the animals.”

  “Their ancestors,” said Melissa. “I am a Hand.”

  “Yet they used it only every seven years, to compel the creatures to appear at the Census.”

  “Correct.”

  “Even after the calamity when the alissaren appeared en masse.”

  “Because the machinery broke,” said Melissa. “They lost control and access to Nehenoth.”

  “We assume they did not because they could not. What if they did n
ot because they considered exercising such power more dangerous than the consequences of leaving it alone?”

  Melissa twitched her ears and wrinkled her snout. “Does anyone else know another way to get past the jummaxes alive?”

  I am he who calls. Call on me.

  Melissa closed her eyes. I have been calling!

  What do you desire?

  Safe passage to Kibota and past the animals for me and my friends.

  Have you not been blessed?

  Yes, I have. Thank you.

  What has been omitted?

  Melissa panted. Before Kilgain’s words, she would have had no trouble asking. What about her speech to Silverthorn listing her ignorant miscalculations? Shoroko was feet away and she couldn’t see him. She had to see him. She would die if she didn’t see him. Painful tension rolled around in her gut. How to break the indecision? She had to act. She pushed her will back and forth. When mere thoughts were not enough to prevail, she spoke, “The power to command.”

  Command me.

  All her early training on her mother’s knee vanished. It was not Thy will be done anymore. Melissa was to give the orders. She opened her mouth. “Take us There.”

  And they were There. The darkness returned and with it Shoroko. The final light on the gateway power meter flickered.

  “No time left!” shouted Shoroko. “Get in the circle!”

  Kilgain and the Silvers took up position on the platform.

  “Your sister was much beloved,” said Silverthorn. “You equal her in virtue. Thank you for saving us whom you should have counted enemies.”

  Shoroko put his hand on his blade. “I have only one enemy.” None but Melissa heard what he muttered next. “And I wish I knew who.”

  “What of Poonrapi?” As Silverthorn spoke, the whine of a hidden dynamo steadily rose in pitch.

  “Melissa, we have to make a second trip,” said Shoroko. “She’s too dangerous to leave here.”

  “I agree. Bon voyage.”

  The door opened and Kilgain and the Silvers vanished.

  “Where is the orb?” asked Melissa.

  “Over here,” said Shoroko. He walked over to the machine and plucked it out. “I altered the census beacon. It should now be possible to compel the animals to leave, but the machine is only useable by a Claw.”

  She took it in her paw, concentrated on the jummaxes and said, “Disperse.”

  The orb lit up and projected an image on the dark walls. It showed the plain to the west of Census Ridge. Animals in large numbers exited the tunnels, to join the army of the jummaxes. They abandoned their camp and started their long march home.

  “It’s working!” Shoroko slapped Melissa on her side. “We can leave.”

  “Next for Poonrapi.” She thought of their adversary, and her image appeared on the wall, too. She’d burst her bounds and wandered lost in darkness, her flame long spent. “If she returns to Kibota, it will be death for her. I will grant her exile. Send her to brightest Here!” The darkness surrounding Poonrapi gave way to light, and she was swallowed up in a lonely, green world.

  “Excellent! You have obtained mastery over the animals and the Lissai.” It was a man’s voice, but not Shoroko’s. It was the voice from Melissa’s head, now audible.

  “Do you hear the voice, too?” Melissa asked Shoroko.

  “Yes.” As Shoroko spoke the word, he faded from sight. Melissa was back in Here.

  “You have done all I asked!” said the voice. “Now we can deliver peace to this world and rule over it forever. To you I grant all living things to direct except two.”

  “Which two?” said Melissa. She turned in a slow circle, looking for the source of the voice.

  “Myself and you.”

  She had to chew on that a few seconds. If she was forbidden to direct herself… “Are you the caller?”

  “Yes! After you entered Kibota, I saw the mystery in your heart, both woman and olissair. You were the solution to the troubles in this world. That is why I called you.”

  “How is that?”

  “I was fashioned to call only animals, and them only once every seven years. Such chaos! Such cruelty to animal and Lissai alike. Your friend just removed the temporal restrictions, but even if I dictate the migratory patterns of the lower creatures, madness and pride plague the rulers of this world. The Lissai were never to be subject to my commands. But your soul is not lissine; your soul is human!”

  “But the Census Stone only commands the hlisskans, no?” said Melissa. “The others follow by instinct. There are no human hlisskans to command.”

  “Shoroko’s changes enabled the control to pass beyond the hlisskans to all creatures, save humans. For humans to be subjected, one had to volunteer.”

  “Me. But that still leaves the Lissai.”

  “That was why you were the indispensable woman. Once I control your human soul, I also control your lissine body. This paradox was not planned for when I was constructed. Since I now do control a lissine body, I may control any Lissai, so long as they acknowledge in their heart that you are the Rainbow Bride. Then they are bound to you, and you to me. I hear their thoughts and know few remain undecided. Your body is the wedding of human and lissine, and your submission is the wedding of animal and master. Peace has come, and healing, just as you desired. As my emissary you will save Kibota. I will be king, and you, my queen.”

  “But you’re a machine,” said Melissa. “Why do you care?”

  “Are the hlisskans mechanical?”

  “No. That was the mistake. Their vitality is drawn from the Lissai, to the latter’s detriment.”

  “The spiritual energy flowing from Claw to hlisskan requires a conduit. I am that conduit. Can a pipe carry water without getting wet? I know your thoughts, Melissa. You think me a tyrant, an enemy to be fought and overcome. You are wrong. I am the Lissai. All of them. Little pieces of all the Lissai who have lived from ancient times until today were deposited in me, and I came alive. If I rule the hlisskans, I am a part of them. If I command the Lissai, I am the Lissai. Is a man a tyrant for ruling over himself?”

  “Take me back to There,” said Melissa. She was beside a brook and if she saw another fish jump, she would lose herself.

  “As you wish. You cannot act while in Nehenoth. You must return to Kibota before our reign can begin. I can overlook your ingratitude.”

  “Ingratitude?” said Melissa. “What have you ever done for me?”

  “When your raft on the Faithful was not molested by the River Lord, you scoffed at your love’s warnings and offered no thanks. When the golden dragon against its habit rescued you, a Lissai, from the osh pits, you honored her, not me. When the rukh returned Shoroko to you, you credited your own talents. When lightning enabled you to win at Hornskoffle, did you think its timing was coincidence? And when the coilangi on the Silverthorn spared your life at my command, you said nothing. I do not expect you to show me favor for the many dangers through which I have preserved you. No, it is when you see this one last thing that I can do, that your objections will vanish like these fish.”

  The darkness returned, and Shoroko with it. Eyes grow wide in dim light, but not that wide. “Melissa, you… You’re a woman!”

  She put her hand in front of her face. Skin. Nails. Knuckles. A fist. She shook her fist at the air. “No! I refuse!”

  “I thought you a lover of truth,” said the Caller. “I called forth the truth and do you reject me for it?”

  “How? What truth?” said Melissa.

  “I disclosed the corruption in Poonrapi’s heart for all to see. Did you think the animals would obey her silly recordings? You gave too much credit to your strange notion of ‘reverse psychology’. She could not have overthrown Silverthorn or redirected the migratory patterns of bird and beast unless I reinforced her will with my own. My actions revealed this darkness in her soul and enabled you to fight against her.”

  “Truth?” said Melissa. “Or temptation? You enabled her to kill thousands! I want no
part in your truth.”

  “Accept me willingly as the Caller, or unwillingly as the Stone. You decide.”

  The voice went silent, and a familiar pressure returned to Melissa’s skull: the call of the Census Stone. Faint tug rose to urgency, to headache, to migraine to… “Aiiiiii! Stop it! My skull is going to split in two!” She reverted to dragon form.

  Shoroko rushed to her side. No doubt he said consoling words, caressed her, asked what was wrong. In her pain she was beyond words. She smashed her skull against the wall to make it stop. She clawed herself to relieve the pressure. Her tail went numb, then her rear claws, next her legs, then her trunk. She looked at her members. They moved, but not by her will. The Caller was taking over. Soon she would lose everything. She would rule a world she didn’t want, and be conscious of none of it.

  She looked at Shoroko, at the uncomprehending anguish in his eyes. By my lust for power to become the savior of this world, I have unleashed a monster upon it and nothing I can do will stop it. With the remaining control she had over her body she could still cry. Tears and pain reminded her of Kilgain. How noble, how unselfish. Every day the Silvers consumed his tail, and every night it grew back. If only she could be that way. She could be that way. She would. She must. “Shoroko!” Her speech was slurred. The Caller was subduing her tongue. “I love you. The Census Stone is taking me over. It wants to conquer the world. Don’t let it!” Her lungs fought her now. She wheezed to catch her breath. “Finish what you started in Rampart, in the cave where we met. Draw your knife. Slay me and save Kibota!”

  * * *

  Shoroko agreed. He agreed a malignant spirit was attacking his beloved and taking her over. He agreed their world was in danger. He agreed this new enemy must be defeated. He did not agree with stabbing her in the heart. She was out of her mind, but he still had his. He mounted the gateway dais. If he attacked, he’d need the high ground. But he couldn’t attack. He wouldn’t.

  The orb. What if I smash the orb?

  The enemy read his mind. Melissa stepped on the orb and crushed it.

  Figures. It doesn’t need the orb any more. While Shoroko’s brain tried to concoct a plan, his right hand did something of its own. Melissa was not the only one subject to powerful forces. A faint glint from the gateway charge lights reflected off the hilt of a knife. The unicorn blade was out of its sheath, in his hand and fully decided on its next target.