Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  “Landon?” Sri’Lanca asked, concern pulsing through the bond.

  Landon waved a hand. “‘M Okay,” he said weakly. “Just give me a minute.” He felt the blood drying on his fingers. He didn’t look at them for fear he would throw up again. He felt the dragon’s eyes on him, and felt his concern.

  “Are you hungry?” Sri’Lanca asked after a few minutes.

  Landon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He stared at the fire as Sri’Lanca pulled out various spices, meat, bread, and cheese and began making a meal. Within minutes the scent of spiced meat and toasted bread covered in melting cheese permeated the air.

  If Landon had been more alert, even in a better mood, he would’ve observed what Sri’Lanca was doing. Instead he sat and listened to Myra’s breathing, wondering if he would ever see his homeland again. Next to him, the Seal’s pouch lay in the sand, seemingly innocent in the flickering light.

  Chapter 23

  Landon stood on the ledge, gazing down at the pounding waves. Although he was hundreds of feet above the frothy water, he felt no fear. The jagged rocks didn’t look that far away, as if Landon just needed to scale the cliff face a few feet and he would be able to touch it. He looked up and gazed across the blue-gray water to the horizon. He rubbed the warm metal of the Wizard’s Seal with his thumb, relishing the power flooding his body even if his chest was like ice.

  “Landon.”

  Landon turned away from the view. Sri’Lanca was splayed on the cliff face, clinging to the rock with all four feet and his wings. The dragon scowled, his annoyance written plainly on his reptilian face.

  “Can you please focus?” Sri’Lanca continued. “I want to finish this as quickly as possible.” The dragon shuddered, his eyes flicking nervously to the Seal, and he pointed with one claw. “Make a hold here,” he dragged his claw along the rock, marking a foot-long line at eye level, “and here.” He scratched another mark at the base of the ledge.

  Landon focused the Seal’s power, willing it to carve a fissure into the rock. He had to concentrate to make it look rough yet natural, and to keep the power from destroying the entire cliff. As much as the power made him feel invincible, he didn’t know if it would protect him from a fall.

  Once he had finished gouging the rock, Sri’Lanca hooked a claw in each fissure and pulled. The cliff wall, having been carved and sculpted by the Seal’s power moments before, slid into the cliff face and exposed a large opening into the cave. Landon caught a brief glimpse of Myra on the makeshift bed, her head turned towards the small fire, before Sri’Lanca pushed the rock back into place.

  Sri’Lanca slid the rock open and closed several times. “Much better,” he said, pleased. “But what if I do this?” He slid the door until there was a two-foot crack and motioned Landon to enter. Landon slipped into the cave and turned just as Sri’Lanca threw himself at the false door. He bounced and scrabbled at the rock, directing Landon to places that needed more support, until he was satisfied.

  “Now if the Guard comes, they’ll think I landed here to rest but then continued on.” Sri’Lanca rustled his wings, pleased with himself. “You can put that thing away, Landon. We don’t need it anymore.”

  “Let me check Myra first,” Landon replied. He crossed the short distance and sat beside her, taking her hand in his. It wasn’t necessary to touch her to destroy the infection, but it helped him control the power better.

  A quick sweep with the power revealed nothing worrisome—not surprising since he had already obliterated the infection before helping Sri’Lanca with the false door. Give the wound a few more hours, however, and the infection would be back.

  He shook his head. Grudgingly, he pulled the pouch from his pocket and dropped the Seal into it. The lack of the wizard’s power left him feeling small and incompetent, his torso yearning for warmth.

  “It’s been a week, Sri’Lanca,” Landon said, turning to face the dragon. “Myra should have woken up by now.”

  Myra’s improvement had been small. He suspected it was because of his poor stitching job and living in a damp cave. He did his best to keep Myra and his hands clean, changing the herbs and bandages three times a day, but it was difficult. Not for the first time, Landon wished there had been a way for them to stay in Nircana. Under Sam’s watchful eye, Myra would have been sitting up and eating on her own by now. Seven days and she still hadn’t done anything more than moan when the infection was obliterated from her body.

  Sri’Lanca was drinking from the spring, sucking the water through his mouth like a human would from a bowl. He paused and looked at Landon, his gaze firm. “Again with this argument?”

  “It will only take me a couple days. It’s not like she was gutted.” Landon shuddered at the thought.

  Exasperation fluttered in the bond, and Sri’Lanca sighed, exhaling a long, slow stream of smoke. “As I said yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that, no. I will stop you if you try. I want you fit and alert, not drunk with exhaustion.”

  “Two days, Sri’Lanca, that’s all I ne—”

  “No, Landon. Myra’s doing better than before. We just need to be patient.”

  Landon growled, his anger flaring. “For Paradise’s sake! It’s been a week and the dragons haven’t even come this way!”

  “Only because they think we are in Lythra,” Sri’Lanca replied. Annoyance mixed with determination pierced the bond, and sparks blew from his nose. “I always flee in that direction and then double back. I’ve even begun stealing from the Tsuregan and Caborcan supply trains, rather than get close to the Rillis Mountains.”

  Landon started at this. “You haven’t seen how the war’s been going.”

  Sri’Lanca shook his head. “But I trust our people are fighting just as strong. Why else would the nations keep sending supplies and soldiers? That’s beside the point, however. As I’ve said before, the Guard will start looking west, and when they do, we may be trapped in here for days. If they come when I’m hunting or stealing from our enemies, then you will be on your own.”

  “We’ll be just fine,” Landon argued. “We have plenty of food for all of us, considering you eat a lot.” He stood and went to the back of the cave. The most recent pair of wagons sat, waiting for their contents to be distributed among the storage shelves Landon had built. He had two so far and had started on a third. “If anything, you can stop stealing wagons with tons of cheese. We have way too much.”

  “You can never have enough cheese,” Sri’Lanca replied flatly. “Don’t change the subject. Our location—”

  “Holy angels, Sri’Lanca!” he cried as he peered into one of the wagons. “Did you get the wagon with the cheesiest smell or something? We don’t have room for all this!”

  Cramped against the length of the wagon were, not two, but four crates labeled as cheese—enough to feed three large families for a month. Landon gazed from the crates and to the nearest supply shelf. Half of the shelves were already packed full of cheese wheels and wedges. The other cheese-free shelves were overflowing with dried fruit and vegetables. The half-finished shelf had the medicinal supplies and bed sheets crammed onto it.

  Landon turned and stared accusingly at Sri’Lanca. The dragon met his gaze without shame. “I like cheese,” he said defensively. “If I’m going to be stuck in a cave for several days, I’d like to eat comfortably. I saw how much bacon you made for yourself yesterday. If you can eat as much bacon as you want, then I can have just as much cheese.”

  Landon’s annoyance faded to disbelief. A dim memory of Tan’Loraen promising Sri’Lanca cheese resurfaced. “You like cheese.”

  Amusement bubbled in the bond and Sri’Lanca smirked. “I think the proper term is love. I love cheese,” he replied. The smirk became an open grin. “What? Are dragons forbidden to eat cheese?”

  Landon thought about pursuing the oddity of it but decided not to. He instead rolled his eyes. “It’s just something I wasn’t expecting.”

  Although Landon didn’t say it, his thoughts
went back to Myra’s condition. He was so frustrated, and ashamed. Frustrated that he had to stand by and watch her struggle for life, and ashamed that he couldn’t show the same faith as his parents. He had been in worse condition than Myra after suffering in Menrye, and his parents were willing to put their faith in the angels rather than use the Seal. Diego and Sierra probably sat by his side, gripping the katana hiding the Seal and praying for strength to not use it. His one justification for running to the Seal like a weasel to its burrow was that Sam wasn’t there. His parents’ strength had come from hope, which had come from a trained physician. Landon didn’t have that. He was alone, with a meager knowledge of medical practices.

  Sri’Lanca was watching him, no doubt listening to Landon’s emotions and guessing his thoughts. “Shall I see if the wizard’s power will let me wield it?”

  Landon’s body went stone cold. He slowly turned to stare at the dragon. In all the time he had been with Sri’Lanca, the dragon had never brought up the possibility of using the Seal. He had been so consumed with Myra’s condition that he had forgotten about it.

  “It recognizes a bond of marriage and that is almost like a dragon–tamer bond.” Sri’Lanca continued softly. “What if the power doesn’t affect me the same it does you?”

  He wasn’t moving, but the bond was cold with apprehension. Although Sri’Lanca sounded matter-of-fact, even curious, he was just as nervous of the prospect as Landon.

  Seeing as Landon wasn’t going to encourage or stop him, Sri’Lanca picked up the pouch from where it lay beside Myra. He used the very tip of his claws to work the mouth open and upended it. The Seal thumped into the sand, sparkling in the dim light. The dragon held a claw over the amulet.

  Landon held his breath. The barest touch, and they would know if the Seal recognized the tamer’s bond the same way it did marriage vows.

  The tip of Sri’Lanca’s claw touched the silver loop and the result was instantaneous. He let out an earsplitting roar and jumped so high that he cracked his back and head against the cavern ceiling. Bits of rock and dust showered down, almost hitting Myra. Landon raced to her side and shielded her with his body as Sri’Lanca continued to recoil, hissing and spitting.

  “It burned me! That frozen lump of shat freezing burned me!”

  “Sri’Lanca, stop before you bring the whole mountain down on us!” Landon cried, terrified. More dust rained down. Myra stirred and her eyes fluttered.

  Sri’Lanca reined himself in, growling Dagnorian curses and sucking on his claw. Landon stood and went to the dragon.

  “Let me see,” he said.

  Sri’Lanca showed him his claw. The enamel was slightly discolored, as though it had been burned. Landon stared at it, his mind reeling. The Seal had burned Sri’Lanca, a dragon immune to fire. The Wizard Seal recognized marriage vows, but not the dragon–tamer bond?

  “I don’t understand. I thought . . . I thought it would work for you,” Landon said. “The bond didn’t feel any different to me.” He grabbed a towel and used that to pick up the Seal. It burned through the fabric, hotter than normal, and he could still feel the heat once it was back in the pouch. It was as if the Seal was angry at Sri’Lanca.

  Sri’Lanca shook his foot and grumbled. “That’s because I didn’t touch it as long as you do. I had a second of intense cold in my heart, and then I felt like my whole body was on fire. No! My soul. It raced through my being like liquid fire.” He shook his head, fuming. “Balaam’s wings, it hurt!”

  “At least we know the Seers can’t use you,” Landon commented bitterly. “I’m sure they’ve been thinking about that possibility ever since you told them about our bond.”

  They looked at each other, that terrifying thought hanging in the air between them. “I’m still worried about Myra,” Landon said, simply because he couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

  Sri’Lanca sighed. “I know. Maybe we should bathe her more often.” A sly look crossed his reptilian face, and amusement flushed through the bond. “Would you like me to bathe her? Balaam knows the human body doesn’t bother me as much as it does you.”

  Landon’s face went hot. Once a day, he stripped Myra and thoroughly washed her body. It was a task that he did not enjoy. He felt he was violating her, even if it helped with the healing process, and always kept a running stream of apologies she never heard.

  Sri’Lanca chuckled. “Even by Dagnorian standards, it is not proper for a groom to see his bride naked before the wedding.” More amusement as Landon’s face burned. “Let me bathe her this time.”

  Landon was torn. Even after all that Sri’Lanca had done, it was hard for him to ask for his help. The longer they were together, the harder it was for him to stay resentful to the dragon. He wanted to keep hating Sri’Lanca, but it was hard. Sri’Lanca’s kindness corroded his resentment, smoothing it away little by little like the ocean against the rocky cliffs. And like the rocky cliffs, Landon fought it because he didn’t like the alternative.

  But maybe this once, he could cave in a bit. He had been spending every waking moment tending Myra. “That’d be nice,” Landon relented, his eyes drifting towards their supplies. “I could get a head start on sorting the wagons.”

  Sri’Lanca snorted, and the amusement sharpened in the bond. “No, you will give yourself a bath.”

  Landon blinked. “Excuse me?”

  In response, Sri’Lanca shoved his nose into Landon’s chest and inhaled deeply. He turned his head aside and coughed. “Balaam’s wings! When was the last time you bathed?”

  “Yesterday,” Landon replied hotly, and pushed the dragon’s head away. “After I finished with Myra, like I always do.”

  “You need a good scrub yourself. More than Myra by the smell of you.”

  “I take a bath every day, Sri’Lanca.”

  “Patting your pits with a soap rag does not count as a bath, my tamer,” Sri’Lanca replied. “Do not deny it, I have seen your bathing technique. Changing your clothes can only mask the stench for so long. Forgive me, but you reek like a dead rat among a hedge of lilacs.”

  “I do not!”

  “You are right. You smell like a pile of refuse. Go wash. I don’t want you coming over to me until you smell like a human again—and stay away from my cheese! I don’t want them smelling like you.”

  Landon’s face heated. “Listen, Sri’Lanca, I—Hey! Stop!”

  Sri’Lanca had shoved his tail into Landon’s chest and pushed him towards the spring. “Flap, flap, my tamer,” he said cheerily. “Go take a bath and I’ll see to Myra.” Sri’Lanca’s amusement in the bond was as strong as ten people laughing themselves to tears, yet he kept a professional composure.

  Landon stumbled, trying to keep his feet and a barrage of inaudible sounds, unable to express the anger he knew Sri’Lanca felt. The dragon ignored his tamer’s protests, which infuriated Landon further. After several minutes, Sri’Lanca dissolved into booming laughs, flicking his wings.

  “Would you like me to throw you in the ocean, clothes and all?” he teased.

  Landon glared at the dragon, hot and flustered. “I hate you!” he said, finding his voice at last.

  Sri’Lanca cocked his head, still smiling. “No, you don’t. You’re just annoyed.” He returned his attention to Myra.

  Embarrassed, Landon spun on his heel and went to get himself a fresh set of clothes and a towel. He stripped, almost tearing his clothes off in anger. With his back to Sri’Lanca, he filled a pot with water from the pool and dumped it over his body, biting back gasps when the frigid water hit his skin. Using a fresh bar of soap, he attacked the week’s worth of grime. Satisfaction seeped through the bond from Sri’Lanca, but Landon kept his back turned, more out of fury than embarrassment for his nudity.

  The bath felt good. Landon refused to say it out loud, and kept his thoughts from dwelling on it in case Sri’Lanca noticed the bubbling content. But he felt refreshed, invigorated. He poured more water over his head, scrubbing at his scalp and hair to get as much dust and
dirt out of it as possible. He gave himself a final rinse and grabbed the towel.

  He was about to dress when horror seared through the bond. Landon’s heart skipped a beat and he whirled around, expecting to see Myra convulsing, or dead. Instead, Sri’Lanca was staring at him, his yellow eyes wide. Horror shone in them as strongly as the bond and the dragon’s entire body was taunt.

  “What happened?” Landon asked, worried. “Is she okay?”

  “Did I do that to you?” Sri’Lanca asked in a low, rumbling whisper. Those yellow eyes were fixated on Landon’s torso.

  Landon looked down. His many scars stood out as bright white lines in the firelight, mottling his chest and belly like frost on a window pane. More spread over his arms and down his back, creeping along his legs to his feet. Thick pink lines traced over the older scars, the remnants of his and Sri’Lanca’s battle on the prairie.

  He quickly looked away and grabbed his shirt. “Just the pink ones,” Landon answered honestly, pulling it over his head. “Those were from you. The rest were . . . were from Angen.”

  Sri’Lanca said nothing. Landon finished dressing and put away the towels and soap. Myra was nestled beneath several blankets, her face cleaner than Landon had ever seen it. He had to admit that Sri’Lanca did a better job. He turned, mustering as much sincerity as he could to thank the dragon. His gratitude died on his tongue at the look on Sri’Lanca’s face.

  The dragon’s horror had evaporated and was replaced with pity. “It has not been an easy year for you, has it?” he said, his tone subdued.

  Landon didn’t know what to say to that. Easy? Even “hard” or “cruel” weren’t enough to summarize what he had been through. Memories of Marleth’s Pits, Sri’Lanca lifting a blood-smeared boulder, and Myra’s shirt red with blood jostled against each other until his head felt heavy. He looked at the fire, hoping to disguise his feelings, even though the bond betrayed them. “You could say that,” he whispered. His eyes and throat burned, but he held back the tears.