Gold Dragon

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Your people are here to provide aerial transport to those with bright minds who come up with worthy plans to try,” Angulus told him, his eyes narrowing.

  “Still the flying rickshaw service, I see,” Zirkander murmured.

  Sardelle stuck an elbow in his ribs. They looked at each other, and Trip suspected a telepathic conversation.

  He asked why she did that, and she said because General Ort retired and isn’t here to kick him under the table, Jaxi explained.

  Are you supposed to be sharing their private conversations with me? Trip asked.

  If I didn’t, who would?

  Trip wondered if Jaxi had been missing him since he’d returned her to Sardelle’s care. It was a strange thought since she had spent so much of their adventure remarking on his failings.

  The dragon professors—dragon scientists?—stepped up to one corner of the table, leaving Shulina Arya to sit on the lip of a long rectangular hedge planter. Trip was sure it was only his imagination that she was sulking after some parental reprimand.

  “Greetings, humans,” the dragon in the blue suit and spectacles said. “I am Wyleenesh, and this is my colleague, Bhajera Liv.”

  The other dragon tipped his head, and his goggle lenses fell forward, the dark shades covering his eyes. He pushed them back up.

  I’m beginning to see why Shulina Arya was drawn to Rysha, Jaxi spoke dryly into Trip’s mind.

  Because she likes smart intellectual types?

  Or beings with spectacles.

  “We are bronze dragons and scientists among our kind. We enjoyed studying our world of Serankil before we left, and we enjoyed studying the great volcanoes of the new world we entered through the Portal of Avintnaresi, and now we are studying here again. We are researching the populations of dragons, humans, and various herbivores—our preferred dietary staple—on the continents here.”

  Is it me, Azarwrath said, or is it not clear from the way he created that list that humans aren’t part of the preferred diet?

  Don’t worry, Azzy, Jaxi said. Nobody likes to eat swords. Especially grumpy ones.

  “We estimate there are four hundred to five hundred dragons that have returned.” Wyleenesh looked at Angulus.

  The king nodded and looked at Trip. “That’s what we’ve heard.”

  “Didn’t we kill some of them?” Zirkander grumbled.

  “Not enough to put a dent in the estimate,” Sardelle said.

  “Indeed,” Wyleenesh said. “And there have been a few new births already. Very encouraging for our kind.”

  Nobody at the table looked encouraged.

  “But there is a problem.” Wyleenesh removed his spectacles and used his shirt to wipe them. He frowned at a resistant piece of gunk on one lens. Trip felt a tiny bit of power being called upon, and a flame appeared on the glass, burning off the gunk. The dragon wiped the lens again, then replaced the spectacles on his nose. “The human population has increased drastically since we lived in this world last.”

  “Drastically,” his colleague agreed, his goggles rattling as he nodded.

  “There are fewer wild lands where dragons can hunt, especially on this continent and on the large one across the ocean.”

  “Cofahre,” Angulus said.

  “I suspect this is part of your problem, human king. We dragons see animals grazing on open land, and we are hungry, so we pluck them up and consume them. They seem little different to us than wild prey, except that they’re usually easy to grasp because they’re in the open. It’s quite pesky to fly around trees in jungles and forests to find sufficiently sized prey to consume.”

  Trip looked at Rysha, wondering if she knew where this meeting was going. Were the dragons only here to justify why they were eating people’s sheep?

  “Are you saying,” Zirkander said, “that our farmers’ sheep are too enticing a target to resist?”

  “Indeed. They are delicious. And, as I stated, easier to acquire than wild animals. But dragons do not mind a challenge. If there were more wild animals, we would happily chase them and enjoy the glory of the hunt before sinking our teeth into fresh flesh.”

  Ew, Jaxi said into Trip’s mind.

  Azarwrath did not comment, though he was perhaps thinking that dragons were unlikely to employ sommeliers at their dinner gatherings.

  “This is what is happening on Yveranoar, your jungle continent.”

  “Dakrovia?” Angulus asked.

  “I believe this is what you call it, yes. Human settlements are much smaller, with less land cleared for your farms and livestock. There is a great deal of wild hunting land, and many dragons have gravitated there.”

  “Lucky Dakrovians,” Zirkander said.

  “But many dragons in one area leads to many battles for territory. The most powerful dragons claim what they wish and are able to defend it. The less powerful are either killed or, more often, driven off to squabble over inferior hunting grounds.” He gestured toward one of the glass walls of the solarium. Indicating Iskandia as a whole? “As you may be aware, more and more dragons have been coming to your land. Many are indifferent to your presence on it and simply wish to hunt. Others believe humans are evil, that they’re the reason there are fewer prime hunting grounds now—which is undoubtedly true to some extent—and will attack without provocation, simply because they are irritated with the situation.”

  “Is there anything you can suggest we do?” Angulus asked.

  “I have a possible solution,” Bhajera Liv said, stepping forward.

  “It will not work for them,” Wyleenesh told him.

  “It is a possibility they may wish to consider, nonetheless.”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  Phelistoth, who had found a seat on one side of the table and gripped what appeared to be a steaming mug of coffee, sighed noisily and muttered, “Bronzes.”

  The two speakers ignored him.

  “My suggestion,” Bhajera Liv said, holding a hand up with curled fingers toward his colleague, “is for you humans to get rid of your farmlands and plant trees all over the continent, so it will return to wilderness such as it once was, and thus improve the habitat for dragons.”

  Rysha snorted softly.

  I don’t think the king is going to go for that, Trip told her silently.

  Not when seventy percent of the nation’s food comes from farmlands, no.

  “That would not improve the habitat for humans,” Angulus said. “We need the farmlands to feed our people.”

  “Yes,” Bhajera Liv said, “but if there were fewer farmlands, your species would have less food and perhaps be less fecund. In future generations, there would be fewer humans in the country, thus creating more balance in the world.”

  “Balance,” Angulus said darkly.

  “I told you they would not be amenable,” Wyleenesh said, elbowing Bhajera Liv aside. “My colleague is overly blunt, but he is correct that right now, the population of dragons and humans is not in balance. We estimate there are one billion humans worldwide.”

  Are there truly that many people? Trip silently asked Rysha, the number sounding incredibly huge to him.

  Possibly. We only have estimates, but there are hundreds of millions in the Cofah Empire.

  “A thousand years ago, before dragons were tricked into leaving this, our homeland—” Wyleenesh frowned around the table, as if to suggest someone there was to blame, “—there were approximately three-hundred-and-fifty million humans worldwide and two thousand dragons. Even though there were still battles over resources, that was closer to a sustainable number. Now…” Wyleenesh spread a hand.

  “It wasn’t a problem before dragons came back,” someone Trip didn’t know muttered, one of the people with clipboards and pens.

  “This is our homeland too,” Wyleenesh said. “Our absence from it was involuntary. And our species did not thrive in the other world. Birthrates were abnormally low.” He looked back at Shulina Arya. “There were only about a thousand of us left there at the time t
he portal was reopened. It is unfortunate that more of our kin did not make it through before it was prematurely closed.” This time, he looked toward Trip, and Trip fought the urge to squirm. Yes, he had been a part of the mission to close the portal… “But,” Wyleenesh went on, “perhaps it is for the best, since, as I said, we have a problem.”

  “Any ideas on how to solve it?” Angulus asked. “Besides by cutting the global human population in half?”

  “Seven gods, please tell me none of the dragons are planning on making that a reality,” a colonel in uniform murmured from one of the seats. He wore one of the sheathed chapaharii blades on his belt.

  The two bronze dragons looked at each other, holding each other’s gaze for several long seconds.

  I don’t find that silence encouraging, Azarwrath said.

  Nor do I, Jaxi said. I don’t have many human friends. I wouldn’t care for their numbers to be halved.

  Perhaps if your words were less lippy, you would have more friends, Azarwrath replied.

  Perhaps if so many humans weren’t afraid of magic and sentient swords, I would have more. I don’t see you and your un-lippy tongue being invited to cocktail parties.

  “There have been rumors of some discussions on that topic,” Wyleenesh finally answered the king. “You must understand that we, as bronze dragons, are on the bottom of the power and social order when it comes to our kind, so we are rarely invited to meetings with golds or even silvers. I believe that those dragons who have claimed jungles and islands sufficiently large to have enough prey to suit their needs are unlikely to bother your country.”

  Trip thought of the bronze dragon that had claimed the Pirate Isles. Maybe he’d been smarter than he had seemed.

  “Those who haven’t been able to find a territory of their own are hungry and restless. It is very possible there are plans in place to remove the, ah, human infestation as some have called it, on some of the continents with territory in favorable climate zones.”

  “I suppose that’s us,” Zirkander said.

  “The southern half of your continent is most warm and appealing, outside of those chilly mountains,” Wyleenesh said.

  “That settles it,” Zirkander said. “We’ll just move all of humanity into the Ice Blades.”

  “Your species would very likely survive if you did so,” Bhajera Liv put in helpfully.

  Trip looked upward, sensing another dragon flying over the castle. Bhrava Saruth. Had he been invited to the meeting too?

  “Good to know,” Zirkander said. “I’m sure we’ll do very well if we shove the whole country into the Magroth Crystal Mines.”

  Angulus sighed and rubbed his forehead. Major Kaika, who sat in the closest seat on his right, sent him a worried look.

  “Thank you for your presentation,” Angulus finally told the dragons. “If you don’t have any other suggestions—”

  A gust of wind ruffled people’s hair, and Trip sensed Bhrava Saruth landing on the perch of one of the huge glass windows overlooking the outdoor gardens. He shifted into human form before he walked into view, his sandy hair shaggy on all sides and tumbling into his green eyes.

  “Greetings, worshippers,” he announced, his voice booming into their minds as well as their ears. “Am I late for the meeting?”

  Wyleenesh sniffed and adjusted his spectacles. “We’ve completed our presentation.”

  “Ah, then I’ve missed the boring part and have arrived at the perfect time. Are those pastries?” He pointed at one of several trays of baked goods on the table.

  Angulus rubbed his forehead again, more vigorously. A number of murmured conversations started up as one of the pastry trays floated into the air toward Bhrava Saruth.

  I think this meeting will be adjourning soon, Trip guessed, looking at Rysha. Without much having been resolved.

  He thought of his visit with the surrogate mothers last night, and of Mladine’s close encounter with a dragon, and he resolved that he would figure out something that could be done, even if nobody else around the table had ideas.

  That’s my fear as well. I am going to brainstorm some ideas so that I can share them with my superiors.

  Tonight? I thought we might celebrate tonight. Trip clasped her hand.

  I’m amenable to that. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb. I’ve missed you these last three weeks.

  Me too. I mean, I’ve missed you. A lot.

  A throat cleared.

  “Trip?” Zirkander asked, tilting his head toward the king.

  He dropped Rysha’s hand. Angulus was looking expectantly at him. Nobody had spoken to him, had they? Maybe he’d missed a discussion about him?

  Therrik exhaled heavily. Or maybe that was a disapproving growl.

  “I understand you’re studying with Sardelle,” Angulus said. “Is there any chance you’ll one day be powerful enough to convince the dragons terrorizing our country to stay away from here?”

  “Me? I don’t see how, Sire. I wouldn’t even be able to convince that dragon to leave your pastries alone.” Trip looked at Bhrava Saruth—he now held the tray and was taking alarmingly large bites of frosted cloud buns. Perhaps he should have shape-shifted into a form with a bigger mouth.

  Would your king not find it alarming if I arrived at his meeting in alligator form? Bhrava Saruth asked, smirking over at Trip and proving Trip still needed to work on masking his thoughts, at least from such powerful beings as dragons.

  “I thought not,” Angulus said, “but I had to ask.”

  The disappointment emanating from him stung Trip. It wasn’t as if it was his fault he was a half-dragon instead of a whole one, and an ill-trained one at that. But he would find a way to help, one way or another. Helping his country and his king—and now his little siblings—was all he’d ever wanted to do. He’d always imagined doing that by being a pilot and shooting down enemies, but perhaps he should expand his expectations of himself. Iskandia didn’t need a pilot; it needed a dragon solution. He liked to find solutions and fix things. He just wasn’t sure how to fix this one. Maybe he could brainstorm with Rysha later.

  “We’ll talk again later,” Angulus said, looking around the table, and Trip sensed that he wasn’t comfortable plotting ways to defeat dragons with actual dragons in the room. “If you have ideas on how to protect our shores, please give them to your unit commanders. Dismissed.”

  4

  Rysha combed her hair and looked in the mirror for the fifth time, engaging in the hair-up-or-hair-down debate for the twentieth time. Currently, her strawberry-blonde locks fell about her shoulders, which she thought Trip might like—since they’d both been in uniform practically since they’d met, he hadn’t seen her without it in a bun very often. But it was on the flat side with an odd kink from being in a bun earlier, and she glowered distastefully at it. Maybe a braid would be better.

  If they were going to walk along the beach, it could be breezy, and a braid might make sense. Even though she liked the way her hair looked when down, it was a pain to constantly have to claw it away from her face. And when it grew tangled in the frames of her spectacles, and she couldn’t get them off? Not a sexy look.

  “Seven gods, when did you turn into a teenage girl?” Rysha grumbled, forcing herself away from the mirror.

  Trip had seen her injured, bloody, and dying, and he’d seen her soaking wet and draped with seaweed. Not only that, but being in that state had led to cuddling and sex. Clearly, he didn’t mind a woman who wasn’t perfectly made up.

  Oh, but she should put on a little lip paint. Just a touch. The raspberry rouge. That would draw his eyes to her lips and away from that kink in her hair. Or maybe his gaze would be drawn lower.

  She’d chosen a silky blue blouse that hugged her breasts and flared at the waist. If she’d had a dress up here in the capital, she might have opted for one tonight, but she hadn’t been thinking of evening wear when she’d packed to leave her family’s manor for the army. And at her height, it wasn’t as if she could run o
ut to buy one. She always had to have clothing tailor-made, something that had been easier before her parents stopped giving her an allowance. Not that she cared about that. It had been their way of punishing her for enlisting, but she was glad to be independent of the family now and living on her lieutenant’s pay. Besides, she’d spent the majority of her allowance on books, and she had limited space in her barracks room to accumulate a new collection.

  A knock sounded at the door. Even though she had expected it—expected him—she jumped. She dropped the lip brush back into the tin.

  “Coming,” she called, though she doubted it was necessary. In the compact room, it was only two steps to the door, and Trip would magically sense her location.

  Rysha opened the door, revealing Trip standing in the hallway and holding a wood, glass, and metal display case that looked like it could hang on the wall like a picture frame. A couple of female officers in fatigues strolled past behind him, giving it a curious look.

  One of them paused, her gaze slipping to Trip’s butt, and Rysha realized it wasn’t the case that had drawn their attention. Trip wasn’t wearing anything fancy, but his civilian clothing fit better than fatigues tended to do, making it easy to see his lean, powerful form. The sleeves of his button-down cream-colored shirt were rolled up, leaving his muscular forearms on display. He was fit for a pilot, and she wondered if having dragon blood helped one keep an appealing physique. She also wondered if he had intentionally left that top button unbuttoned, as if to invite someone to come along and unbutton the rest of them.

  Realizing she hadn’t said hello or done anything but stare at him, she smiled at him. And caught his dark green eyes tilted toward her chest. He jerked them up immediately.

  “I’m not looking,” he blurted, his cheeks reddening impressively given his darker-than-typical Iskandian skin.

  Rysha grinned, amused that he’d been checking her out even as she’d been doing the same to him. She was also pleased he didn’t seem to have been aware of the other women in the hallway.

  “You can look all you want.” Rysha touched her chest, took his arm, and led him into her room. “I’m glad you want to.”