by Robert Beers
“Can you use a shaping to get us out of this?” Adam watched the gang members as they worked. Some of them merely clubbed their acquisitions into submission and dropped them to be picked up later. “I'd do it, but I don't want to hurt anyone.”
Milward shook his head. “I'm sorry, lad, I can't. Something touched me back at the library.”
“What?” Adam's question stopped abruptly, as someone roughly grabbed his arm and spun him around to face a soldier with a brutish, unshaven face, bad teeth and even badder breath.
He leered at Adam as he hefted his truncheon. “Yea, you'll do for a warm body. C'mon wif me, me lad, or do I gets ta whack yer one?”
Adam surprised the guard by turning into his grasp and then out of it; the King's sword appearing in his hand as if by magik.
The press gang member stepped back away from Adam, dropped his truncheon, and drew his own sword, a military issue single edge saber. “Oy! Oy!” He yelled. “We got usselves a feisty one!”
Several of the other members of the press gang dropped their pursuit of future members of Grisham's military in answer to the guard's call. In short order, Adam found himself facing six drawn swords.
* * * *
Thaylli stood in front of the young dragon, with her hands on her hips, and a determined expression on her face. “I'm going in. I'm going in right now, with or without you.”
Drinaugh pinched the bridge of his snout between his eyes. This young human was giving him a headache with her inability to see reason.
The Alpha wolf looked up at the dragon. “Give the human female whatever it is she wants. Her continual whining is beginning to make the pack nervous."
“But she wants to go into the city.” Drinaugh replied. “And it sounds and smells dangerous.”
“So, go with her,” the wolf suggested. “No human will pick a fight with a dragon, and the pack will be spared her complaints.”
“But...” Drinaugh's muzzle switched back and forth between the adamant Thaylli and the wolf.
“Go.”
Drinaugh sighed, and Thaylli allowed a smile of triumph cross her face. The Dragon looked back down at her and pointed at the back of his neck with one of the thumbs on his right hand. “Ok, climb up onto my back. I'll take you into the city.”
* * * *
Jerrold leaned on his halberd and listened to the clamor coming from inside the city on the other side of the gate. “No one allowed in or out?” He called over to his partner in the outside duty.
“Them's the orders.” His partner spat a bit of the weed he was chewing off to the side. “No one in or out. No matter what.”
“The Sarge say why?” Jerrold shifted his weight to the other foot.
“Naw.” Another spit. “Just said to keep an eye out, an’ skewer anythin’ that tries ta climb the wall.”
Jerrold considered. “I ain't never skewered anythin’ afore.”
His partner spat again. “Ain't nuthin’ to it, ya just shove.” He demonstrated with his halberd. “Want some chew?” A bag was held out for Jerrold to see.
Jerrold shook his head. “No thanks. Makes me see things that ain't there.”
His partner was impressed. “No kiddin'? All's I ever gits issa nice buzz. What kinna things ya see?” Sput!
“There's a woman ridin’ a dragon!”
“Wow. Wish I could see stuff like that. Like I said, all's I ever gits issa nice...”
“There's a ... flickin'...woman ... ridin’ a flickin’ dragon! Right ... flickin'... there!”
The weed chewer looked up and his eyes bugged. He took out his stash and looked at the bag. “Good stuff.” He murmured.
* * * *
Thaylli looked past Drinaugh's neck at the high double gate that led into the city of Grisham. “They're closed. Why are they closed?”
The Dragon cocked his head to listen. “There's a commotion inside the gates. Perhaps they're closed because of fighting going on inside. Maybe we should go back.”
“Oh, no, you don't!” Thaylli thumped the back of Drinaugh's head. “You promised you'd go into the city with me. You're big enough, open the gates!”
The young Dragon's face showed the conflict going on inside him. “But ... the danger.”
Thaylli raised up and pointed at the gates. “Go on, push ‘em open.” She leaned forward and whispered into his left ear opening. “You want to see how Adam is doing as much as I do. We can't do it if we stay outside of the city.”
Drinaugh tried another argument. “The guards. What if they try to stop us from entering?”
“Ignore them. They can't hurt you. Come on, Drinaugh. You're a Dragon. Do you really think they're going to try anything other than running away?” Thaylli thumped the back of the Dragon's head again.
“I really wish you wouldn't do that,” he admonished her. “How about if I ask the guards to let us in before I break their gates. Is that ok?”
Thaylli sat back against the neck ridge she used as a saddle. “Yes, I suppose so.”
Drinaugh noticed the pout in her voice, but ignored it as he started forward. The excitement he felt earlier about being the first Dragon ambassador to mankind had vanished as soon as Grisham's walls came into view. Now, striding forward to confront the guards protecting the city gates, all he really wanted to do was take to the skies, and wing his way back home to Dragonglade as quickly as the power of flight could get him there.
* * * *
Jerrold couldn't believe his eyes. A Dragon! A bloody, flickin’ huge Dragon. With wings yet, and a lass wearing a shape a man dreams about, on it's back, walkin’ right at him!
“Soddle. You seein’ this?” He called across the road in front of the gates to his partner on the other side. “You seein’ the Dragon?”
“Oh, yeah, Jerrold. This weed's better'n I thought it was.” Soddle said dreamily.
“It's flickin’ real, you twit!” Jerrold hissed back. “Think about it. I ... don't ... chew!”
“S'what I'm talkin’ about. You ain't chewin', and yer'll still seein’ it. S'gotta be really good stuff.” Soddle pushed another wad into his mouth.
The Dragon was only a few yards away, now. Jerrold took one look at his totally inadequate halberd and ran off. Soddle was on his own, the poor twit.
Soddle watched the dragon with the maid on its back walk his way. “This was skrudin’ great! Wait'll the boys back at the guardhouse hear about this. Maybe then they'll try some of his stuff.” He made a quick note to himself to remember where hehad picked this batch. Skruddin’ great.
“Uh ... uh, excuse me.”
“It talked, too! Oh, yeah, definitely need to remember where that patch of weed was.”
One guard had turned and run. That left the other with the glazed eyes as the only one to speak to. Drinaugh tried again. “Uh ... I said, excuse me. Hello?”
The young dragon rotated his head so he faced Thaylli. “His eyes are open, but I don't think anyone is home.”
Thaylli looked down at the guard. He had that same look as some of the miners after a long night at Westcott's bar in the inn. “Try again,” she said. “At least he isn't running away.”
Drinaugh sighed, “very well. But I don't think it will do any good.”
He looked down at Soddle. “Ummm ... can you hear me, man? Can you understand what I'm saying?”
Soddle looked into the dragon's eyes, scant feet away from him. “Wow...”
“It's no good, Thaylli. Something's wrong with his brain. He just stares at me with this silly smile on his face.” Drinaugh shrugged his wings.
“Oooooo!” Thaylli beat a tattoo of frustration against the ridges on the dragon's neck before her. “And he's just inside there. I can feel it!”
“Oy! Dragon! Coeeee. Draaaagon!” The guard was jumping up and down, waving his hands over his head. “Draaagon!”
Drinaugh lowered his head until his eyes were level with Soddle's bloodshot orbs. “Yes?”
Soddle peered at him closely, screwing up his face in
a quizzical manner as he cocked his head to one side. “You fer real, er am I seein’ things?”
Thaylli leaned out over the dragon's neck, exposing quite a lot of cleavage for Soddle's appreciation. “Of course, you're seeing things. You think a woman riding a dragon would be real?”
Soddle thought about that for a moment. “Yeah ... I see yer point. Man, this is good stuff.” He held out the bag toward the dragon and the maid. “Want a chew?”
In spite of his youth, Drinaugh wasn't slow on the uptake. “No, thank you. Apparitions can't chew. You should know that, you know.”
“Oh yeah...” Soddle looked embarrassed. “Right. Sorry ‘bout that. Wasn't thinkin'. It's the weed, you know, makes ya see things.” He paused. “Iffn it's good stuff.”
“It must be good, then.” Thaylli leaned over a bit more. Soddle's attention became riveted on something other than the Dragon. “Would you mind doing us a favor?” She wiggled a bit to set the hook.
“Whadda a pair of ... huh?” Soddle blinked, as the question registered. “Uh ... yeah. Sure, sure. Whatcho want me ta do?”
Drinaugh raised back up to a normal stance and pointed at Grisham's gates. “If you would be so good as to open the gates for us, we'd be very grateful.”
Thaylli gave Soddle her broadest smile. “Very grateful.”
Soddle couldn't turn around fast enough. He hammered at the gate. “Oy! Hervy! Oy! Come on, open ‘er up! There's a lad! Hervy! Come on, now!”
A peephole opened up in the center of the right gate and a brown eye looked out. “Whoozat? Oh, s'you, Soddle. Still chewin', I see. Whatch hammerin’ onna gate for? Ain't shift changin time.”
“Gotta maid with a nice pair a...” He swallowed. “...an’ a dragon, wants ta come in. Be a sport, an’ open the gates, ok?”
Hervy sniggered. “Right. An’ I got's a date with the Duke's mistress after me shift. You knows the rule. Long's they got's the pressers out an about, no one in or out. You knows that.”
Soddle looked back at Thaylli perched on Drinaugh's neck. She smiled and wiggled at him. “Ah, c'mon, Hervy. Be a mate. This is Soddle yer talkin’ to. Open ‘er up.”
“You an’ me ain't mates, Soddle. ‘At's another of yer weed dreams. Bugger off.” The peephole closed.
“Well? Are you going to let us in?” Drinaugh asked.
“Are they going to open for us?” Thaylli's question rode in on top of the Dragon's.
Soddle turned away from the gate with a face like a thundercloud. “Buggerim. Buggerim. Bugger the skrudin sod. Not mates, ‘e says, eh? I'll show ‘im.” He looked up at Drinaugh and Thaylli. “You want in? Go in. Be my guests.” He was too mad to notice the sobriety his anger had brought on, and the fact that he was still seeing a maid riding a Dragon. “Give my regards to that bugger, Hervy.”
“But ... the gates are closed. Locked. If I push them open, I'll be breaking them. Is that what you want?” Drinaugh pressed his concern on the guard.
“Awe, bust the’ soddin’ things, fer all I care. Not mates, ‘e says. After all the’ stouts he's drunk on me silver. Th’ soddin’ prat. I'll mate ‘im...” Soddle wasn't paying attention any more. He stalked off, lost in his own outrage.
“You heard him. Let's go.” Thaylli dug her heels into Drinaugh's soft hide.
He rotated his head and looked full in her face. “If you please? I am not a beast of burden, you know.”
Thaylli had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. I forgot, but can we go? You heard the guard. It's his fault if the gates get broken.”
Drinaugh watched the still outraged Soddle wander off, waving an arm as he lambasted the absent Hervy. He was still wrestling with his emotions, but the part of him wanting to see how his human friend was doing was taking the high ground. “Hold on, then.”
Thaylli put her arms onto either side of the Dragon's neck as Drinaugh walked forward and pushed. The sharp sound of snapping timbers mixed with the screech of warping metal as the bar locking Grisham's gates was put under pressure it was never intended to withstand.
The gates swung inward, and the first Dragon in over a thousand years of Grisham's history strode into the city. This particular Dragon bore a human rider, which, unknown even to Drinaugh, was an historical first.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dragonglade in the fall presented itself in a riot of color and smell. The dragons had long ago mastered the art of horticulture, and the glade, which acted as their town square, represented the crowning achievement of that art.
Shealauch's sensitive nostrils picked up the sweet floral scent wafting out of his home, as he struggled to come in safely from his flight away from the men who'd attacked him. Spots and lights swam before his eyes, and red blood dropped away from his pierced foot and tail. He felt weak and dizzy as he backwinged onto the grass outside the entrance where his mother Timidi kept her apartments. The injured foot would not support its share of the young Dragon's weight, and he collapsed onto the grass with a cry of pain.
Shealauch's outcry was heard by several of the Dragons out enjoying the peacefulness of the mid-morning air. The first to reach him was Harlig with Niamh, who could still move more quickly than most of the others, despite her pregnancy.
Close behind them came another knot of Dragonglade's residents, along with the injured youth's mother, who pushed her way through the Dragons encircling the moaning Shealauch.
“What happened? My baby! Wha...? What are those things sticking in him? He's bleeding!”
Timidi knelt down next to her son and cradled the foot with the arrow in it. “This is a man's thing!” She cried out to the other Dragons. “Why is a man's thing piercing my child?”
Chabaad peered over her shoulder, using his telescopic vision to focus in on the object of Timidi's outrage. “That's an arrow!” He stood erect and shouted to the rest of the Dragons around the glade. “They've shot Shealauch with arrows!”
Harlig muttered loud enough for the Dragons encircling Shealauch to hear. “I knew there would be trouble, allowing that fool Drinaugh to venture forth into the human world. They hate what they cannot understand.”
Niamh scorched him with a look. “You know nothing of the kind. Your statement shows the falsity of your words by their very own context. Do you know the mind of every Dragon? No? Then how can you claim to know the mind of every human?”
“You defend the ones who tried to kill my Shealauch?!” Timidi reared back, hissing in fury. Several other Dragons joined her in argument against those more of a mind with Niamh. In an instant the glade was filled with the deafening sound of Dragons shouting at one another at the top of their lungs.
A family of black bears living on the slopes above the caldera that formed Dragonglade sat up, listened for a second, and then decided to leave the area in search of more peaceful places. Flocks of birds fled to the skies, and some of the sharper hearing Avernese soldiers marching behind Vedder cocked their ears, straining to hear what sounded to them like distant thunder.
Chabaad called for the ones who did this to be hunted down and punished. Harlig's shout rose above his, saying they should be slain as the animals they obviously are.
“Silence!!!” The glade settled into shocked silence, as the Dragons looked up to see the Winglord glaring down at them from an elevated porch built into landscape of the parkland. Rose bushes framed the tips of his half-extended wings. His posture told all within the glade the extent of his anger. “What ... is ... the ... meaning of this ... this undragonlike tumult?” He raked the heat of his gaze across the crowd gathered around Shealauch.
No Dragon answered him.
“Well?” Mashglach focused his attention on Timidi.
“They've pierced my child with ... arrows, Winglord.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Remove them!” Mashglach's tone indicated disbelief in that it hadn't been done immediately.
Timidi covered Shealauch partially with her wings. “That will hurt him more.”
Niamh knelt back down next
to Timidi. “Let me try. I believe I can be of aide to him. These hands do have a few centuries of experience as a surgeon in them.”
“Winglord?” Timidi looked up at Mashglach.
“Let the surgeon care for your son, Timidi. She'll ease his pain, not worsen it. You should know that.” The Chief Dragon's voice was gentle.
“But I...” Shealauch's mother looked at Mashglach and Niamh in turn.
Niamh ducked her head close to Timidi's. “Please.”
The mother Dragon pulled back her wings, exposing Shealauch's wounds to the rest of the gathering. A collective gasp rose up from the crowd, and a few of the murmurs concerning revenge and justice followed close behind.
“Silence, please. Let the surgeon perform her task.” Mashglach rumbled.
Quiet re-entered the glade, as Niamh probed Shealauch's wounds.
“Uuunggghhh!”
“Sorry, child. But I needed to know if infection had set in. You are fortunate you bled so much. The wounds have been flushed clean.”
She looked at a Dragon whose hide bore a subtle leopard's spot pattern. “Hurry. Bring me the Sandalwood box with the camellia engraving in the lid. Fly part of the way, if you must.”
Niamh turned back to her patient. “Try to work on a relaxation exercise. Freniagh will be back with something to take the pain away and to help you heal faster.”
“I ... I hope it's soon,” Shealauch put on a smile, but it didn't fit right.
Harlig called up to Mashglach while they waited for Freniagh to return with the surgeon's box. “What are we going to do about this, Winglord?”
“The law isn't specific, here. We are going to have to consider our actions. The Winglauch will have to be convened.” Mashglach scratched an eye ridge with one of his left thumbs. “I would have hoped for a brighter reason than this.”
Murmurs arose again. This time, the term Winglauch was bandied about.
The glade became silent again when Freniagh settled onto the grass with Niamh's box tucked into the crook of an arm. The crowd parted, giving him a path to the surgeon and her patient.
Niamh opened the box by pressing three of the camellia petals in the inlay in sequence. It opened with a soft click and she removed an opalescent bottle that seemed to contain small swirling lights.