Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  Myra smiled and touched Morgan’s face with a trembling hand. “Tell my family I’m okay, and that Landon’s okay too.”

  Landon squirmed at those words.

  “Three!”

  Sri’Lanca spun and sat on his hind legs, his wings open for sudden take off. Landon turned towards him, suppressing a wave of terror as a scaly foot enveloped him. Sri’Lanca’s other foot enfolded Myra. Morgan and Liliana scramble onto Ti’Luthin’s back, and both dragons launched themselves into the air.

  Landon’s last glimpse was of Darrin pelting towards him, his face blazing with rage. The Seer opened his mouth, but his scream of fury was lost in the sudden gust of wind.

  Chapter 22

  Sri’Lanca rose with terrifying speed. Landon’s stomach churned, and he became lightheaded as the ground fell away. Pressure built in his ears until they popped. His eyes became so dry he thought they would crack and bleed. The wind whipped around his face, making it difficult to breathe.

  The sudden ascent slowed and Sri’Lanca began to fall. Landon’s stomach leaped into his throat, and a scream worked its way from his mouth. Sri’Lanca flapped his wings and leveled out. Landon became aware that his feet dangled free from the dragon’s grasp, and open air stood between himself and the earth. Terror surged through him, and he scrabbled with his free hand for something to hold onto, keeping the other clenched around the pouch.

  “Easy, Landon,” said Sri’Lanca, speaking loudly over the wind. “We’re just flying.” Relief surged through the bond, mingled with amusement.

  “I’m going to fall!” Landon cried.

  He thought his voice wouldn’t carry over the wind, but Sri’Lanca’s ears were sharper than he thought. The dragon laughed. “I won’t let you fall,” he said. “I have a good grip on you and Myra. Please be quiet for a moment. I need to think.”

  He spotted Myra in Sri’Lanca’s other foot. Her head was slumped forward, resting on one of the dragon’s fingers. Panicked, Landon shouted her name several times, but he got no response. With great difficulty, he forced himself to calm down. He looked at the clouds soaring above them. The sun was in front of them, creeping towards the horizon.

  A strange roar sounded behind them. Landon turned towards the noise, but Sri’Lanca’s body blocked his view. The wings above him gave two swift beats, and they accelerated.

  “That’s the Dragon Guard,” Sri’Lanca said, his fear adding to Landon’s. “I’m going to fly into the clouds. It will get harder to breathe, but I won’t be up there for long.”

  Landon grew more light-headed and nauseous. He thought he was going to pass out, but fear kept him awake—fear for Myra, fear for his family and friends, and fear of the increasing height.

  “I. Hate. Flying.” Landon said through gritted teeth. He glanced over to Myra again, and focused on her, praying for her life.

  They flew for hours. The temperature dropped, but Sri’Lanca’s scaly foot kept Landon warm. That surprised him. He expected it to be cool like a reptile. Every so often, Sri’Lanca banked right or left, weaving in and out of the clouds. Landon nodded off despite his terror, waking with a jolt every time his stomach swooped with the descents. He chanced a glance down and thought he saw the Tsuregan range below, but he fear of heights prevented him from staring too long.

  The sun sank into the horizon, turning the sky deep purple, yet the dragon flew on. Landon had no idea where he was heading, but it became clear that Sri’Lanca was waiting for the cover of darkness. It wasn’t until the sky became black and the moon peeked on the horizon that Sri’Lanca began a steady descent.

  Landon blinked, his eyes searing from the little moisture his eyelids provided, and squinted. As the earth came closer, he could make out the ocean. It took up half of his vision, stretching out as a dark gray blanket to the west. The east was colored with black cliffs that rose out of the waves and became jagged peaks of mountains that marched up and down the coast.

  Landon had seen those behemoths of stone before, and he knew them well—too well. The darkest moments of his life had been spent in their depths.

  “What are you doing?” Landon yelled, his voice shrill. “Take us back. Take us back!” He gripped what little of the dragon’s finger he could get his hands on in terror.

  Sri’Lanca continued descending. “Not a chance. This is the safest place for you right now.”

  “Safe? You think Menrye is safe?”

  Sri’Lanca sighed. “Yes. Everyone knows how much you fear this country, therefore it’ll be the last place they will look. They will never expect you to find refuge here.”

  Landon had to admit it; Sri’Lanca had a point. “Fine,” he said, trying to sound calmer than he felt, “but we’re not staying here.”

  Sri’Lanca chuckled and touched down on a bare stretch of weather-beaten stone from which a lone pine grew. Landon was lowered to the ground, and his knees buckled from fright and exhaustion. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand. The dragon lowered Myra to the base of the tree, and Landon went to her. He shoved the pouch into his trouser pocket and gathered her in his arms, pressing his body to hers. The stone was freezing, and goose pimples popped up on his bare torso. He looked around, squinting in the starlight for some sort of cave or even wood to start a fire.

  “Sri’Lanca, do you see any shelter? Or wood?” Landon asked when he saw nothing. He frowned. “Hey! Do you see anything?”

  Sri’Lanca was standing on the cliff’s edge, gazing down. He twitched his head very much like a bird examining the ground for insects. Sri’Lanca’s emotions were intense and thoughtful, with an underlying feeling that Landon couldn’t identify.

  “What is it?” Landon asked, dread slinking into his heart. They were in Menrye after all.

  “I think I hear water.”

  “I believe that’s called the ocean.”

  A surge of annoyance washed over Landon. Sri’Lanca turned and glared at him. “I don’t mean the ocean, Landon. I hear water inside the mountain. With all these crags and nooks, there must be a cave large enough for me to enter. Hopefully one with a clean water source, or near one. I will be right back.” Without waiting for a response, Sri’Lanca slipped over the edge.

  Landon stared at the place where Sri’Lanca had been, shocked that the dragon would abandon him so quickly. He heard the swoosh of Sri’Lanca’s wings as the dragon coasted along the cliffs. He pulled Myra closer to him, trying to share his warmth. The Menrian stones sucked the heat from their bodies, and a cold breeze blew from the sea, rustling the pine needles above them.

  “Please be okay,” Landon whispered, cradling Myra’s head in his neck. Her breath was softer, and he felt her neck for a pulse. It was weak, drawing a despairing sob from him. “Please don’t let her die,” he begged. “Please, Almighty, keep her with me. Please . . .” He carefully touched the bandage and felt the heat from her wound. Her forehead also burned against his chin.

  “Heat . . . infection . . .”

  Landon didn’t hesitate. He withdrew the pouch and slipped his pointer finger inside. The Seal’s power flooded into him, his chest growing cold as it collided with the bond. He welcomed its wild rage, its thirst for destruction. He could control it, or more precisely attempt to control . . . like Oni. The horse hair bracelet on his wrist itched with that thought.

  Landon shook his head and sent the power scanning through Myra’s body. There was an infection brewing in her wound. Landon allowed the power to destroy it, drawing a shudder and moan from Myra. Her eyes fluttered and closed, but her breathing didn’t change. He focused on the lacerations, sweeping the area with the power to find the extent of the damage.

  Her intestines had several cuts, but the knife’s damage had been more to the muscle and skin. Deon’s herbs had stopped the bleeding, extending her life, but it alone would not be enough.

  Landon willed the power to heal, focusing on those lethal incisions. He forced the power to align and stitch the smooth muscle together. The cold in his chest crept into the r
est of his limbs, freezing muscle and bone. The power resisted, but Landon pushed it as his adopted parents had pushed him to do his schoolwork. A small smile tugged at his lips with a memory of him grudgingly reading a text on the Finoran Revolution, Eli hovering over his shoulder to make sure he was reading. . . .

  Little by little, the life-threatening cuts around her bowels closed, restoring the blood to its natural route. There was more healing that needed to be done, but Landon felt like he was dying. He removed his finger and accepted the crashing wall of fatigue. He sagged against the tree, trembling violently and holding Myra in his arms. He managed to push the pouch into his trouser pocket before his muscles gave out. He sat there, shivering and praying for Myra.

  By now the moon was high, casting a ghostly glow on Landon’s surroundings. An hour passed before Sri’Lanca returned. The dragon said nothing but scooped them up, and dropped over the cliff. Landon’s stomach leapt into his throat, and he felt nauseous as the dark gray cliffs zoomed across his vision.

  Sri’Lanca coasted for a mile before he flared his wings and landed on a ledge barely wide enough for his body. He stood parallel to the wall, one wing awkwardly clasping the cliff while the other flapped and twitched to keep his balance. His hind legs and other foreleg precariously gripped the ledge. Landon saw a foreboding black hole in the cliff. It looked too small for an animal as large as Sri’Lanca to fit through.

  “This is the best you could find?” Landon asked. It looked more like a pit than a cave.

  “Yes,” the dragon answered. “I already investigated it. It has a small spring-fed pool inside. See, that’s where it leaves the cave.” Sri’Lanca pointed with his tail somewhere below but Landon didn’t look. He kept his gaze fixed on the hole and tried not to imagine what would happen if Sri’Lanca dropped him. He knew the dragon wouldn’t do it on purpose, but he did try to kill Landon twice by accident.

  Sri’Lanca chuckled. “Relax, Landon. I won’t drop you.”

  “I am relaxed,” Landon shot back, wishing his emotions would stop betraying him.

  “You keep telling yourself that, but I can feel your hysteria.” Sri’Lanca shuffled into the cave, swinging his tail for balance. He stretched his foreleg and placed Landon and Myra in the back near the spring. Landon moved Myra as best he could out of the way so Sri’Lanca could squeeze the rest of his body inside.

  It was pitch black—blindingly black. Landon switched his concentration from his sight to his ears and nose, noting the bubbling spring and damp, earthy air. The cave opening glowed with moonlight, and Landon’s eyes adjusted little by little until he made out his surroundings. The cavern was large—large enough to comfortably fit Sri’Lanca. Despite the spring trickling through its center, the thin layer of dirt that Landon sat on was dry—cold, but dry.

  He shivered and pressed himself against Myra. He tried to stay calm as Angen’s voice whispered from the dark. He reminded himself that Angen was dead and couldn’t hurt him anymore. But he was in Menrye. He was inside a mountain. Myra was bleeding. Blood. Lots of blood. And torture. . . .

  “Landon.”

  Landon jerked towards Sri’Lanca. The dragon was looking at him, and the bond seeped with concern.

  “I am going to light a fire,” Sri’Lanca said. He spoke as if Landon was a spooked horse he was trying to calm.

  “How?” Landon blurted, terrified. He tried to suck in a deep breath without making it obvious, but he could barely control the rising fear.

  “I’m a dragon. I can always start a fire,” Sri’Lanca replied gently.

  “You can’t though. It’ll kill us! We can’t breathe the smoke and it’ll . . .” Landon gulped, “It’ll kill her.”

  Sri’Lanca snorted, and with it flew several sparks and tendril of smoke. “I know how to start a fire without using my fire, Landon. I collected some wood while I was searching.” He motioned to a pile of broken branches and trunks shoved against one wall. “Besides, what kind of dragon would poison his tamer?”

  Landon said nothing.

  As though reading his thoughts, Sri’Lanca said, “I would have you think back to when I attacked you in the Rillis Mountains. In those two times, did I ever breathe my fire?”

  Landon stared, and his terrified mind slowly turned that thought over. Sri’Lanca was right. Even when he had been fighting Ti’Luthin in the valley, he hadn’t used his fire. In fact, since their battle on the grassland, Sri’Lanca hadn’t once used his fire until he attacked the Seers and their men.

  Landon was silent but the bond spoke for him. Sri’Lanca nodded as if satisfied. “You see. I know what I am doing.” He turned his attention to the fire. “If you can, move yourself and Myra into this nook.” He tapped on a section of wall with his claw. “It will help retain the heat around you.”

  “Okay . . .” Landon did as Sri’Lanca said, scooting as best he could without jostling Myra too much. He rested against the rock and watched as Sri’Lanca used his claws to shave strips of bark and fibers from the branches. He grasped the boughs as Landon would with a stick and easily snapped them into smaller pieces. He brought those near Landon and arranged the wood around the kindling. For a creature so large and with huge fingers, he was very dexterous.

  Once the wood was arranged to the dragon’s liking, Sri’Lanca snapped two claws like Landon would snap his fingers. Several sparks erupted from the tips and fluttered onto the kindling. Sri’Lanca blew on the sparks until a small flame was coaxed into existence. Within seconds, it became a snapping fire. Warmth washed over Landon like a hot bath, and a sigh of relief escaped him.

  Sri’Lanca moved back, admiring his work. Pride rolled from the dragon and became tangled with Landon’s fear. “Just as I thought,” he said, grinning. “There is a draft coming from the spring that is pushing the smoke towards the opening. We can dig around it and double the size of this room. Maybe even triple it.” The dragon narrowed his eyes, thinking.

  Landon stared from Sri’Lanca to the spring and back again. “Are you seriously considering it?” he asked, baffled.

  Sri’Lanca blinked and shook his head. “You’re right. Exploration comes later. First, we need to see to Myra.” To Landon’s surprise, the dragon turned to the cave entrance.

  “Where are you going?” Landon asked.

  “To get supplies,” Sri’Lanca said, his voice booming through the cave. “We need food and medicine, and weapons wouldn’t go amiss either. I’ll be back. There’s enough wood to keep the fire burning all night, and more pieces in the pile if you need them.”

  Landon eased Myra to the ground and went to Sri’Lanca. The dragon was working his tail out of the opening, clinging to the cliff face like a lizard with his wings spread wide for balance. Landon stopped a few feet from the entrance. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, half yelling over the sound of the crashing ocean.

  “You’re my tamer. It’s what I’m supposed to do,” said Sri’Lanca.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Landon said.

  Sri’Lanca stared at him, his eyes large and round in the half-moon. “I know,” he said quietly, “but now is not the time to discuss it. When I get back, I will explain myself.” With that, the dragon threw himself from the cliff.

  Landon shouted and rushed to the edge. He got as close as he dared, peering for any sign of the dragon. He heard the wings before he saw Sri’Lanca’s shadow-like shape flying along the surf. He was visible for a few moments before he flew out of sight.

  Landon stood at the opening, listening to the emotions coming from Sri’Lanca. There was shame, concern, and . . . determination? No. That wasn’t it. It was something else.

  A soft whimper from the cave drew his attention, and Landon put aside all thoughts of Sri’Lanca. He returned to Myra, gently taking her back into his arms. He kissed her forehead, noting she still had a fever. He took out the Seal again and focused on the incisions once more. He tried to speed up the process, willing the Seal to mend both muscle and skin at once but he was too weak. The first hea
ling session coupled with Menrye’s chilly terrain had depleted his energy. Despite the Seal banishing his bodily and emotional pains, he felt sick and was forced to stop.

  “Rest now, more later,” he panted. He struggled to pull the drawstrings and the pouch slipped from his fingers. It bounced off his trousers and thudded to the ground. One of the amber loops peeked invitingly out of the opening. Landon looked away and stared at Myra, watching her chest rise and fall and the flames dance behind her. The cool air caressed his damp face while the fire’s warmth licked at his body, melting the cold the power had caused. His throat ached for the water trickling through the cave, but he didn’t have the strength to move.

  His tired thoughts wandered to the events of that day, playing different scenarios that would have ended with the Seers dead and Myra unscathed. He chided himself for not using the Seal when he had a chance, ashamed that he had cowered over her body instead of acting. He could have taken up the power and killed everyone there. He could have tortured the Seers as they had tortured him.

  Yet he knew why he had sat in a grief-stricken stupor. She had been dying. Unlike Eli, who’s life had been snuffed out like a candle, Myra’s had trickled from her. Landon had been so shocked that all he could think of was to hold her and pray. Hours later and he could still feel the power controlling his body, feel the knife pierce cloth then skin, and Myra’s hot blood on his hands. He should have been stronger. What kind of man allowed a metal amulet to harm his future wife?

  ”Damn you,” he whispered to the amber loop. He wanted to throw the Wizard’s Seal into the sea, but he knew that wouldn’t stop the war. Not even the Seers’ deaths would end the fight. The kings wanted it just as much as Darrin and the Drakshus. He had seen it in the council, read it in the treaty. They would increase their brutality until he or his parents were forced to take lives. There would be more war, and more bloodshed. . . .

  Landon didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until a surge of elation, twinged with fear, shot through him. It pierced him like an arrow, wrenching him from the deep sleep that he had sunk into. He bolted upright, searching for Sri’Lanca, but the dragon wasn’t anywhere. His heart hammered in his ears, and he clutched Myra until his knuckles were white. He strained his ears for wingbeats, watching the cave entrance. Wherever Sri’Lanca was, he was causing trouble and enjoying it.