by D K Drake
“Ugh. That’s a rotten deal.”
“That’s what your father Dartez and I thought. So when we met and fell in love, we got married. He was 158; I was 129. A few years later, I became pregnant with you. However, you’re only allowed to have children if the Reproduction Council awards you a child permit.
“When King Omri found out about our marriage and my pregnancy, he enslaved me and banished your father. As with all illegal children, he would have claimed you as his own property and raised you to serve as a lifetime soldier in his army, so we faked your death the night you were born. That’s why Kenton and Ravier took you away and hid you safely on earth.”
Javan wasn’t sure how to process this news. He thought he had been an unwanted child. Now he learns his mother gave him up to protect him from a lifetime of enslavement in some rotten king’s army? As his way of saying thanks, he decided to defend his mother. “Sounds like grandma needs to blame the stupid king, not you.”
Esmeralda chuckled. “I agree.”
“Wait a minute.” Javan scratched his head. “If you were living in this place hidden with an invisibility shield, how did the king find out about you and my dad?”
“Your great-grandfather Vince. He works for the Dark King and turned us in.”
“What a—ouch!” A sudden sting on his right shoulder made Javan flinch. Then the sting moved to his left shoulder. More stings pelted his arms and legs and back and face. He turned in circles, swatting at the air in an attempt to prevent any more attacks. But all he could see was a swirl of red. How much blood was he losing?
“Red rain! Get inside! Now!” Esmeralda grabbed his arm and pulled him into the restaurant.
The solid wood door closed behind them, and Javan turned to look outside the nearby window. Torrents of horizontal red streaks filled the air, obscuring the surrounding buildings and mesmerizing Javan.
“What is going on?” he asked.
“It’s a red rain storm,” Esmeralda said in an odd-sounding deadpan tone. “It sweeps across the land from time to time and stings something fierce when it hits your skin.”
“No kidding. Are there any other weird weather storms I should know about?”
“Not really the time to discuss weather.”
Javan turned around. Every customer in the packed restaurant was staring at him and Esmeralda.
But Esmeralda was staring at the tall, thickset woman with long, flaming red hair wearing an apron over her drab brown dress pointing a cross-bow contraption at them.
“Hello, Hannah.”
“Goodbye, Esmeralda.” The red-haired woman pulled the trigger. A streak of what appeared to be lightning zapped Esmeralda. She yelled and fell to the ground, jerking as though she had just stuck her finger in a light socket.
“Mom!” Javan dropped to his knees beside Esmeralda, not sure how to help her. He looked up at Hannah. “What did you do?”
“Are you with her?”
“Yes.”
The woman pulled the trigger again. Thousands of volts of electricity pulsed through Javan’s body. Before collapsing beside Esmeralda and writhing in pain, he couldn’t help but notice the satisfied grin on the red-haired woman’s face.
Chapter 8
A Second First Impression
As Javan slowly blinked his way back to consciousness, he became aware of three distinct noises: clanking dishes, pattering footsteps and a soothing hum that made him want to keep his eyes closed. His body lay on a hard, unforgiving surface, but his head rested on something soft and comforting.
Wanting to figure out where he was and what was happening, he rubbed his eyes and sat up.
The footsteps stopped when Ravier spoke. “The boy awakens. Finally.”
“Javan, how are you feeling?” Esmeralda was sitting on the bench at the table in the living room beside him. It was her leg that his head had been resting on. She was the source of the soothing hum.
“Like I just got struck by lightning,” Javan said, cocking his head from side to side. His skin felt hot to the touch, and the blood coursing beneath his skin seemed electrified. “What did that woman shoot me with?”
“That woman is your grandmother, and she shot you with a Jolt Blast,” Esmeralda said. “The effects will wear off in another hour or so.”
Javan turned to Esmeralda. “Please don’t introduce me to any more family members. They keep trying to kill me.”
Ravier stopped pacing and sat down across from Javan. He placed his hands on the flat surface in front of him. “We might have made a bad first impression.”
“Correction,” Javan said. “You did make a bad first impression. In case you forgot, last night you tried to take my head off with a sword, and today that woman zapped the life out of me.”
Ravier sighed. “I apologize. I thought you were an intruder. For reasons you can’t understand yet, we can’t allow intruders of any kind.”
“All right. I accept your apology. But what’s her excuse?” Javan pointed to Hannah. “She recognized Esmeralda and shot us both anyway.”
Hannah huffed and banged a cabinet closed.
Ravier spoke for her. “Your grandmother apologizes for shooting you with the Jolt Blast.”
“No, I don’t!” Hannah crossed the room and slammed an empty frying pan on the table. “Esmeralda deserved it, and I don’t believe you’re my grandson. Your eyes are the wrong color.”
“You blasted me because you don’t like the color of my eyes?”
“You’re an imposter. I find that worse than rude!”
“Javan,” Esmeralda said with a hoarse voice, “show her the true color of your eyes.”
“No.” Javan’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of letting people see his emerald eyes. He didn’t know how to function without the bright, clear, nearly glowing gemstone green disguised. “I like my brown eyes.”
Ravier leaned across the table and stared into Javan’s eyes. “How are you hiding the color of your eyes?”
“Contacts.” Javan squirmed under Ravier’s scrutiny. “If you stop staring at me, I’ll take them out.”
Ravier returned to his seating position and urged Hannah to sit beside him. They watched as Javan bent his head, removed his contacts and looked up.
Hannah gasped. “Oh my. You have eyes just like your father. Much brighter and greener, but you definitely inherited those eyes from Dartez!”
Before Javan could process the encouraging fact that he shared the same funky eyes as his father, Hannah had him pulled into a hug so tight he struggled to breathe. “I’m so sorry I hurt you,” she said. “To make up for it, I’m going to fix you some lunch. What do you want? Stew? Steak? Lamb? Emu? Doesn’t matter. I’ll make it all. Then I’ll take you on a tour of the farm.
“We raise okties here—illegally of course—and supply them to the rebels. Our animals are the best flying creatures in all of Zandador. Except for dragons, of course. But not many people have dragons. You will, though. You’re a Collector. We’re going to have such a party when you collect your first dragon!”
“Can’t…breathe…”
“Sorry again, dear.” Hannah released him and put her hands on his cheeks. “Welcome home.” She kissed his forehead and practically skipped to the kitchen.
Javan smiled. Apart from the weird talk about okties and dragon collecting, that was the kind of grandmotherly love he’d only dreamed of experiencing.
Then Ravier ruined it. He gripped Javan’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Enjoy being pampered today. Tomorrow you’re mine.”
That sounded a bit ominous. What did that burly man have planned?
Chapter 9
Stalking the Stalker
“W
ake up, kid!” Ravier threw some clothes at Javan’s head, interrupting his pleasant dreams. After touring the farm with Hannah and Esmeralda yesterday and seeing dozens of the oversized dragonfly-like creatures they called okties, Javan found himself dreaming about soaring on the back of one of the okties. He had neve
r felt so free as they flew over the meadows and through trees that covered the mountains in the distance.
Ravier’s voice ruined his dream. “Put those on and meet me downstairs. And make sure you hide your eyes with those contact things.”
Javan groaned and rolled out of bed. The sun wasn’t yet streaming through his window to light the room, a sure sign that it was entirely too early to be up. But it did give Javan a chance to play with the lighting system.
Unlike the normal electricity Javan was accustomed to, this house was powered with energy from dragon scales. The hand-size triangular white and gray scales had been shaped into rings a little bit bigger than lifesavers. The rings were strung like popcorn, and the string ran along the perimeter of the room where the wall intersected with the ceiling. The end of the string hung down beside the door to a place halfway up the wall where a light switch would normally be.
The “switch” wasn’t something you flicked up and down, though. It was actually a triangle impression in the wall. So to turn the lights on, Javan inserted a full-size scale into the wall. Once the main scale touched the string of scales, light flooded the room.
“That’s so cool,” Javan said, then dressed himself in the prescribed brown shirt and brown pants. He wasn’t exactly the hippest teen when it came to fashion, but he knew enough to know this was a completely unstylish outfit.
When Javan met Ravier downstairs and saw Ravier wearing the exact same clothes, Javan had to protest. “Wearing these clothes is bad enough, but I’m not going anywhere being all matchy-matchy with you. I’m going to put my earth clothes back on.”
“No, you’re not. We’re leaving the protection of Gri today. If you’re caught wearing any clothes other than these, you’ll be beaten and thrown in prison.”
“Seriously?”
“King Omri controls everything, right down to the clothes on our backs.”
Javan scowled at his outfit. “This king has got to go.”
“Glad you agree. To make that happen, you need to learn how to collect dragons.” Ravier slung a long sword protected in a leather sheath over his shoulder so that it hung diagonally across his back. “Training starts now. The first step is to stalk a Stalker.”
“That sounds dangerous. I should probably carry a sword, too.” Carrying a sword across his back like that would add a touch of coolness to his uncool outfit.
“You’ve been trained to wield such a weapon?”
“How hard can it be to ‘wield such a weapon?’ You hold the dull end and slash with the pointy end.”
Ravier huffed. “You don’t get to carry a sword until you’ve been properly trained and know how to use it effectively.”
“Then train me.”
“In due time. Right now we need to fly south. I don’t want to miss our chance to observe the Dawn Stalker at feeding time.”
◊◊◊
“I actually get to fly on one of these things?” Javan stood at the entrance of the okty barn. The large, dully lit stone structure with a hard-packed dirt floor housed the okties. Wooden perches of varying heights hung from the ceiling by strands of rope. Many were occupied by okties calmly swaying back and forth while other okties lazily floated through the air from one end of the barn to the other.
“Unless you’d rather walk,” Ravier said. “But that would take several weeks. These guys can get us to Dawn Stalker territory within hours.”
“I vote for flying.”
“Thought so.” Ravier took a few steps into the barn and whistled. Four of the okties flying just over his head swooped down and landed side by side in front of Ravier. He tapped the heads of the two in the middle, and they flew away. “These two are our rides. You take the pink-winged one on the left.”
“Sure,” Javan mumbled, watching Ravier walk toward the green-winged okty on the right. “Give me the girlie one.”
Pink Wings snorted at Javan as he approached. “Sorry girl.” He only had to tilt his head slightly downward to look into her big ugly eyes. “Didn’t mean to offend you.”
She stared at him, nodded and let her ten-foot long wings rest on the ground. That seemed to be her invitation to climb aboard, but Javan wasn’t sure how to go about riding the thing. “Um...how do I get on?”
Ravier was already sitting on the back of his okty. “Walk between her wings. Pull yourself up and straddle her body in the space between the wings. Like me.”
“Flying bareback? That doesn’t seem safe. Don’t we need saddles? And reigns?”
“Just get on.”
Javan grit his teeth and skirted around his okty’s front left wing. The top of her back only came up to his waist, so getting on her soft, fuzzy back wasn’t a problem. Neither was straddling her since her body wasn’t as wide as his horse Storm. It was the staying on without a saddle to hold him in place that he was worried about. Plus he had nothing to hold on to. How was he supposed to direct her flight?
“I’m on,” Javan said. “What now?”
“Pat her back twice.”
“Okay.” Javan tapped her back twice, and Pink Wings lowered her antennae back to within reach of Javan.
“Your reigns,” Ravier said, grabbing on to his okty’s antennae. “Use them to lead her, and follow me.” Without another word, Ravier jerked his hands up. His okty lifted itself a few feet off the ground and darted out the open door.
“That looks like fun.” Javan smiled and mimicked Ravier’s movements. Pink Wings drifted up. And lingered. “Forward!”
They went nowhere.
“Fly!”
Still nothing.
“Why aren’t you going?” Javan leaned forward, dug his heels into her sides and gently shook the reigns. That was all the encouragement she needed. They sped out of the barn and up into the dark, pre-dawn sky. “Woohoo!”
Javan leaned to the left. Pink Wings flew left.
He leaned to the right. Pink Wings flew right.
Up. Down. Left. Right. Pink Wings flew wherever Javan directed her. What fun!
“Stop playing!” Ravier yelled at Javan in the air in front of him. “We have a long flight ahead of us and need to be on our way.”
“I’ve never ridden one of these things before. I needed to figure it out.”
“Got it figured out?”
“Think so.”
“Then let’s go.” Ravier took off, and Javan had to concentrate to keep up with him. Thankfully the okty’s wings created a green blur in the dark sky; otherwise Javan wouldn’t have been able to track Ravier’s flight.
Javan did enjoy the speed at which they clipped along. He wasn’t sure how many miles they traversed, but according to his watch, he did know they flew for just over two hours before landing in a meadow beside a lake surrounded by a thick forest. Although the sun had yet to officially rise, hazy light flooded the land.
Once they dismounted, the okties buzzed across the water, flying circles around one another and occasionally sipping from the surface. Javan hoped they were trained to return to the people who rode them from place to place. Ravier didn’t appear worried about being abandoned by their rides. Javan thus decided not to worry, either.
He was curious about their location, though. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Dawn Stalker territory. According to the Protector registry, five are still alive and living somewhere within this thousand-mile wide forest.”
“Oh. So it’s going to be really easy to find one and catch it.”
Ravier failed to catch the sarcasm dripping off Javan’s words. “It won’t be easy,” he said, “and we’re not trying to collect one today. I simply want you to observe a Dawn Stalker feeding so you have a healthy respect for the animal.”
“That means we have to find a Dawn Stalker to observe. How do we do that?”
“We wait by the water.”
“Wow. Good plan. ‘Cause I’m sure that of all the possible lakes in all this land, all the dragons are going to come here to eat.”
“This is a spot in the no
rthwest corner patrolled by Opny, the oldest of the Dawn Stalkers. Like all the Dawn Stalkers, he is extremely vain. When he gets hungry and his scales begin to change colors, he often pauses at this lake to observe his reflection in the water.”
“If you know he’s coming and you know his weakness is vanity, why can’t I take advantage of that and just go ahead and add him to my collection?”
“Collecting a dragon—especially one as old as Opny—is not a simple task. To collect him, you have to ride him without falling for a distance of at least hundred miles, more if he refuses to submit to your control. Are you ready to hop on a hungry, wild dragon who spits acid and would enjoy eating you?”
“Not so much. Let’s stick with your plan.”
“Good.” Ravier looked at the sky beginning to brighten with sunlight. “His six o’clock feeding time is approaching. He should be here shortly. We’ll hide in the woods.”
They set up a hiding spot behind a dense row of bushes fifty feet from the shore of the lake while the okties perched themselves in some trees above the bushes and dozed off.
“How long do you think we’ll have to—”
“Shh,” Ravier said. “He’s coming and has incredible hearing. Not another word until he’s gone.”
Javan pretended to lock his lips and threw the invisible key over his shoulder. He started to yawn, but when a dragon appeared out of nowhere on the far side of the lake, Javan was too astonished to close his mouth.
The stunning creature was a good ten feet tall and fifteen feet wide with a long pointy tail and four muscle-bound legs that each ended with three sharp claws. Two spear-like antlers adorned the top of its head between its pointy, oversized ears and above its round black eyes.
This dragon had no wings, which Javan found odd. In his mind, all dragons should have wings and be able to fly.
The dragon’s most striking feature was its scales. Many were a bright white, but more than half were dazzling colors of red, orange, pink and purple.
Apparently the dragon also thought his best feature was his colorful scales. He stared at his reflection in the water, mesmerized by his own beauty. As more scales slowly changed colors, he became more entranced by his reflection.