Wings of Change

by Lyn Worthen

  The cave inside was deep and dark, but Keji walked unwavering to the back where a dragon with similar coloring to Keji was curled up, asleep.

  “It will take a moment to wake her up,” he said Nezka. “Get down and stretch your legs.”

  She nodded, and started unclipping herself. Now was not the time to talk about what had happened. Which was fine with her: she didn’t want to talk about it, or think about it.

  The cave smelled stale and dragony, so she walked to the entrance Keji had made, breathing in the fresh, cool mountain air with relief.

  “Caballera,” said Jacaranda, walking up to her, her face reddened and soot-smeared.

  “What?”

  “Bonding with a dragon,” she said, pointing to the giant hole in the ice wall, “enabling the use of his magic. You are going to be elevated to the nobleza! Goodness, we haven’t had an elevation since—”

  “I am not a caballera,” Nezka snapped, disgusted by the thought.

  Jacaranda shrugged. “Suit yourself, but the secret will be out the moment he spouts flame again.”

  Nezka looked at her hands as the caballera drifted away, muttering at the cascade of melted snow that was flowing down what had been her path up to the cave. Jacaranda didn’t know that Keji intended to leave. You couldn’t be a caballera without proof of the bond with the dragon. Without Keji she was no one.

  But at least Keji and his mother would be free. And with her little stash, she should have enough to start over. Maybe.

  A large clawed foot stepped into her field of vision. A draconic head that was not Keji’s lowered itself so that Nezka was snout to nose with her. The slitted nostrils flared, ruffling Nezka’s shawl.

  “She needs a bath,” said Keji’s mother, looking at her son, “but otherwise, you have my approval.” She gently nudged Nezka with her tail, only knocking her over onto her side instead of halfway down the mountain. With that, she leapt into the sky, dust and snow blowing in her wake.

  Nezka crawled to her feet and stared at Keji. “What are you doing? Aren’t you going with her?”

  Keji settled on his haunches, glancing down at her. “I thought we had a race to win today.”

  Nezka opened her mouth, closed it; then swallowed. Hard.

  “But your mother…” she said in strangled squeak that she hated.

  Keji flicked his tail in a shrug. “She’ll be fine. I can visit her whenever I want.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled, showing teeth. “Besides, I want to see Correa’s face when he finds out that you’ll be ascending to the nobleza.”

  Nezka looked at her friend, then at the sharp blue sky, then smiled. She quickly climbed up Keji’s offered leg and clipped herself in. “Let’s fly.”

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  When Jana S. Brown was eight, she wanted to be an author and a mother. Now she’s both, complete with fuzzy sidekick. She’s been involved in publishing as an author, editor, presenter, slush reader, and grundle of other positions (Yes, “grundle” is the technical term) for over 20 years. She writes the weird and the wonderful with smoochies. You can find her online at www.janasbrownwrites.com

  About this story, Jana says: “I came to this story backward, starting with the final scene: when two parents of vastly different species find themselves having a moment of perfect accord over the shared experience of parenting headstrong teenagers. Then I needed two teens in trouble. My farming background led me to a girl on a colony planet in search of wayward cattle and an injured young dragon who would save each other from monsters…”

  While Jana may have come to the story backward, it’s a much better read if you start at the beginning. But it’s up to you.

  Two Against the Skitters

  Jana S. Brown

  The bloody remains of the cow smelled terrible. I tried not to gag, but between the rotting flesh and the glistening, stringy, green skitter saliva I had to turn away. I’d been looking for this cow all morning and well into the afternoon. Matilda was our best milker. She had always been a genius when it came to getting through the fence, and we couldn’t convince her it was dangerous out here. Mother was going to be heartbroken the skitters had got her.

  I decided it wasn’t worth trying to take the remains back. Whatever meat was left was fouled by the saliva, and I wasn’t strong enough to haul the carcass to my ATV even if it wasn’t. I sighed and bent down to retrieve Matilda’s bell collar. As my fingers closed over the thick leather the sounds of breaking tree limbs and a piercing wail made me jerk back. My heart pounded, and I bit down on a scream. The plasma rifle slung across my back was precious little comfort. It would stop a little skitter, sure, but nothing about the noise was little.

  I forgot about bell collars and mutilated cows, retreating from the clearing to the copse of trees where I’d hidden my ATV. I was fifteen minutes away from the fence line and another half hour’s hard ride back to the barn. That was all kinds of time to get myself killed by one of the big bugs that called Caprisi home, and I couldn’t draw attention to the downed section of fence and risk the rest of the cattle herd. Maybe if I was quiet enough it would pass by.

  I crouched by the ATV, making myself as small as possible, trying not to breathe. Silence drew out around me, broken only by the soft ticking of the machine as the engine cooled. Maybe the noise had been a fluke. Maybe it was just a tree falling in the woods. Those made a lot of noise.

  The next crash passed over the top of me, careening along the edge of the clearing. I slapped my hand over my mouth and forced myself to stay still until everything was quiet again. Ever so slowly, I peered over the top of the ATV, prepared to see one of the oddly joined skitters with their brightly colored carapaces, prepared to fire and leap on the ATV, prepared to run away. I was not prepared for what I actually saw.

  There was a heap of creature crashed between the trees. It wasn’t a skitter. In fact, I didn’t have a word for what it was except for bumbling. It sort of looked like a sand lizard, but huge and a much darker in color. I guessed that if it had been capable of standing up straight on its four legs, my head would have brushed the bottom of its grey-scaled belly. It had huge wings, which kept flapping, sending drafts of warm air at me, but it couldn’t seem to fly any better than it could walk. That might have been due to the trees in the way. It hadn’t made it to the clearing, and even if it had it was still just too big to get through the trees.

  The lizard-thing bumbled around for another minute, tearing up the landscape, and then collapsed a few trees away, lying on the ground and moaning. I saw its sides heaving from where I crouched, and my gaze was caught by the glint of light on dark liquid oozing down its leg and belly. Whatever it was it was hurt… badly.

  The seconds ticked by while I stood there, staring. In the back of my head I heard the imaginary voice of my father scolding me to get on the bike and get the hell out of there, but curiosity kept me rooted to the spot. We’d been living here for three years, and I’d never seen or heard of any creature like this. It was so different from the skitters and, despite all good sense, I decided to get closer.

  Each step made my breath come a little faster but I didn’t stop. Rumor had it one of the keys to the successful human exploration of the galaxies came down to our tendency to try to make friends with just about anything. We couldn’t help ourselves.

  I paused, with a narrow tree the only thing separating me and the lizard and pulled the plasma rifle into my hands, just in case. I leaned around the trunk of the tree and the lizard’s head swung around as it keened, a terrible heart-wrenching sound.

  I don’t know how it noticed me, but as its head lowered our gazes locked. There was intelligence in its eyes and pain. I felt his – there was something distinctly male about it – pain race through me, and for a second it was as though my own flesh had been ripped open and bled. I fell to my knees, unable to hold back a cry, until the sensation faded leaving me panting in the echo. He needed help, and I was the only option, a fact which I realized was of little comfort
to the great beast.

  I stumbled back to the ATV, pulling the emergency kit off the rack. It included a bedroll, which I had some faint ideas for, and a first aid kit designed for people and livestock. Everything was the wrong size for this great beast, but there had to be something useful in there.

  When I came back I didn’t stop at the tree, entering the partial clearing and trusting that momentary connection to keep the creature from deciding to devour me. Hopefully, he was smart enough to know I wanted to help. I slowed when I was a couple feet away, surprised at how warm the air was around him. His head turned toward me again, his neck surprisingly flexible, and I held up the kit. “I don’t know if you can understand, but if you’ll let me I’ll try to help.”

  He huffed out a sigh, sending a warm puff of air at me which ruffled my hair. It smelled, not entirely unpleasantly, of ashes and something almost minty. Then he raised his wing, giving me access to his injured side. I passed his forelegs and got a good look at the arm-length claws tipping his feet. If he decided he didn’t want me here, I was going to be in really, really big trouble.

  I tried to look reassuring, even though I wasn’t sure what reassuring looked like. I set the supplies down and rose up on my tip-toes to see the wound better. There was so much blood – dark purple blood – that I couldn’t see the actual cuts. I looked at him and gingerly reached out a hand, ready to pull back and run for it if he snapped at me.

  He didn’t.

  His hide, like his breath, was warm, bordering on hot, soft and smooth. I bent down and grabbed the bedroll shaking it with one hand until it unrolled. I didn’t think about what my parents would say about me using a good bedroll to mop up lizard blood. This whole thing was going to get me in so much trouble that one more infraction hardly seemed worth the worry.

  I used the corner of the bedding to wipe away the blood until I could see the jagged tear. It crossed his shoulder joint and dug deep into his side, which sorta explained all the stumbling around. I didn’t know enough to make any guesses as to what had done this to him, but it had done a lot of damage. I tried to decide what my father would do if this was a cow and determined he would probably start by sewing up the worst of it. I’d helped him with stitches once, and I was good at the embroidery my mother had taught me. She argued we womenfolk did so much man’s work to keep the ranch running that we had to have something feminine and pretty to learn. I had to do something to close the gap. The wound was too big to just put pressure on it and hope it would stop bleeding.

  There was surgical thread, a large needle, and clotting spray in the kit, but I wasn’t sure the spray would work on lizard blood. How different was it from a cow or a human, anyway? More blood gathered in the time it took me to disinfect my hands and thread the needle. I mopped his hide clean again with another section of bedroll and looked over at the lizard, who was holding remarkably still.

  “This is going to pinch a little, but… You’re so big I’m not sure you’ll even notice. I’ll try to hurry.” I wasn’t sure if I was talking to reassure him… or me. I sucked in a deep breath, tainted with the coppery taste of blood and the stench from Matilda’s body, and pushed the needle into his hide. He didn’t even flinch, and I quickly hooked the thread to the other side of the tear, pulling it through and closing the first stitch.

  I lost track of the time as I kept stitching. It became a routine of threading, cleaning, stitching, and knotting. After a while it didn’t even look like muscle and hide anymore, but just edges to be pulled together and tied off. He didn’t make any noises, but I felt him watching me and his breath occasionally brushed my hair and clothes with a gentle breeze.

  The bleeding slowed with each stitch, the light getting dimmer as the sun raced to the west. Finally, I was out of wound, thread, and energy. I scrubbed my hands one more time and sat on the ground. My hands and my calves ached; the first from the awkward sewing and the second from having to stand on my toes to reach everything.

  I pressed my head to my knees, resting my eyes. I was never going to get home before dark and my parents were going to completely freak out, but they had always preached compassion. I figured it applied to… whatever this beast was. It seemed to me I really should know a name for it. There was something familiar, like a creature from a bedtime story, but I couldn’t remember.

  I felt him moving and raised my head. He curved his neck around me, resting his head on the ground by my feet and breathing out a deep sigh. A sense of relief flooded over me, a relief that wasn’t only mine, but was real none-the-less. I leaned against him, exhaustion catching up with me. I’d had a long day. “I have to go home, but I’m gonna close my eyes for just a minute first. Okay?”

  He made a funny little sound, heavy lids closing over his eyes. He was tired too.

  Sleep claimed me, my last thought that at least I wouldn’t be cold.

  # # #

  The sun wasn’t yet up when I jerked awake, aware of a rumbling beneath my head. It took me a second to remember where I was and why I was lying on the ground instead of in my soft, comfy bed. It took another second for me to realize my make-shift bed was the thing doing the rumbling. A low growl reverberated through the creature’s body, reminding me of my brother’s dog on full alert. I was certain if the lizard had had fur it would have been standing on end. I shifted back onto my knees, my eyes on the dim forest while I felt around for my plasma rifle.

  My fingers closed over the cool metal and silicon weapon, and I tugged it across my lap. “I wish you could talk to me.” I whispered. He obviously knew something was coming, but I had no idea what that meant. A skitter or a mouse? What kinds of things got attention from giant lizards?

  His head swiveled, and he pushed his nose into my chest. Danger.

  The word echoed through my head like a thunderclap, and I slapped my hands against my ears, even though the noise was in my mind. My eyes watered with the volume. “Too loud!”

  He growled again, his frustrating flooding through me. Hard. The voice was quieter now. Mantoptera. Run.

  The word “mantoptera” didn’t help me understand in the slightest, but his concern was palpable. I opened my mouth to reply, cut off by the sounds of trees cracking and a cascade of high pitched chirping I recognized in the worst possible way. Not just one skitter, but many. “Oh…shit…”

  He lurched up on his feet, standing better now than he had the night before, but favoring his stitched leg. If he moved too much or too fast, he was going to rip the delicate stitches. I bit my lower lip and scooped up the plasma rifle, moving to his side and turning so my back was to the lizard.

  He looked down at me, his golden eyes catching what little light there was, and I felt his puzzlement.

  “What? I didn’t stitch you up just so the skitters could get you. Maybe between the two of us we can scare them off.” I shrugged, my gut clenching as the noise drew closer. Only moments now and they’d be on top of us. “I wouldn’t get very far running anyway.”

  A rumble of sound echoed in his chest, something like laughter. Yes.

  The first of the green creatures, this one only about the size of a dog, broke through the tree line, and I leveled the rifle, firing quickly. Gooey green blood burst from the wounds and it collapsed. More of them, larger ones, trampled the corpse and above me I felt the lizard gather in a huge breath. He trumpeted a challenge, leaving me nearly deaf as I kept shooting, moving from one target to the next.

  He met the skitters that evaded my fire with claws and teeth, ripping back carapaces and crunching through cartilage and sinew. He fought like he had been born to it, snarling and whirling to meet each new challenge. I guarded his weak side, the gun growing hotter and heavier the longer the fight went on.

  A small skitter darted around the lizard’s attacks, dashing at me on many legs like a possessed house cat. It jumped up, and I jerked back, keeping it from hitting me in the face. Its legs flailed and snagged on my pants, ripping the thick cotton fabric. It bit down, pincher-like jaws piercing clo
th and flesh. I screamed and hit it with the butt of the gun. It took three hits before it dropped off my leg.

  The bite and accompanying scratches sent fits of red-hot pain lancing up my leg. I screamed and slammed the gun down on the creature again and again until it stopped moving and some piece of the gun broke off. My knee buckled and I dropped my ruined rifle, hugging my leg against my heaving chest.

  We were going to die.

  I tried not to cry, but tears streamed down my face anyway. I never should have come so far out. My family would be devastated. My lizard friend would die, too. It seemed so unfair.

  Caught up in my dire thoughts, it took me a long moment to realize the noises of the fighting were over.

  A warm breeze caressed my cheek, drying the tears and the lizard nudged me in the side. Smears of blood and other goo transferred from his muzzle to my clothes, but I didn’t care. I threw my arms as far as they’d go around his head, resting my face against his cheek. He rumbled again, though this time it was like the purring of a cat rather than the warning growl of a dog.

  I started to relax. Maybe… just maybe… we had won?

  The silence reigned for a moment before I heard another noise – the low hum of an engine. I turned my head, but found I couldn’t move much more than that. Everything hurt too much. I saw a light bouncing through the forest as a bike grew closer, and finally broke through the trees.

  “Dad!”

  My joyful shout was lost in a rush of air from above us. The lizard stretched his neck, raising his head to the sky and trumpeting. I looked up and blinked. There was another lizard flying above us. A much bigger lizard.

  The new lizard sank between the trees, having to angle itself awkwardly to land without destroying everything or squashing us. As it landed, Dad’s bike climbed closer, and he swung off of it, staring at me and the strange tableau of lizards and skitter remains.