Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  “What if I don’t want to, Landon Durn-Dayn?” she replied acidly. “You’re thinking of sending me away, no doubt with the Seal.”

  Landon winced at that. “Yes, I am.” Although he heard Myra’s fury building in her face and posture, he felt no anger, just a quiet, tired resignation to protect her no matter what.

  “How is that supposed to protect me?” Her voice was soft but held all the rage of a maelstrom. “The world may be a big place, but you know how relentless the Seers are. They will never stop hunting us. We have to stay together!”

  Landon shook his head, “Myra, you don’t understand. I can’t stand by and watch you get hurt again. This,” he motioned to her belly, “almost killed me. I tried to stop the wizard’s power, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t protect you, which is why—”

  “Stop.” Myra’s face twisted with anger, and tears glittered in her eyes. “You finish that sentence and by the footstool of Jeshua I will slap you, Landon Durn-Dayn! You didn’t do this to me, Lan. Niklas and Sayre did. Along with Kennin and Darrin. It’s their fault, not yours. You were completely in the Seers’ power. I saw you fighting against it. I knew you were trying, but the Seal was too powerful and that is that. No one, not even your father or mother, could’ve done any better.”

  “But—”

  “I forgive you!” she yelled. She sucked in a sharp breath and clutched her belly, yet she continued. “I forgive you, Lan, and you best accept that. It’s too late to hide me and the Seal now that Darrin and the Drakshus are working together. All we have to do is keep fighting, stay hidden together, and pray the angels will give us a happy ending.”

  Myra’s face had paled and sweat beaded her forehead. They glared at each other until Landon looked away. “Fine,” he said submissively. “You’re right. I’m wrong.”

  Myra sighed with relief. “I love you, Lan, and I really don’t blame you one instant for what’s happened. It’s a series of cursed events, that’s all.”

  “Cursed is a good way of putting it,” Landon mumbled.

  Myra reached over and touched his face. “In sickness and in health, in prosperity and in desolation. That’s what we’ll be saying to each other, Lan. I love you too much to leave you alone now.” She kissed him.

  “Well, me and a cheese-loving kleptomaniac dragon,” Landon said jokingly.

  Myra rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but Landon’s whole body seized up. Sri’Lanca’s feelings instantly became panicked and afraid. It was so strong that Landon trembled.

  “What is it?” asked Myra, seeing his face.

  “Sri’Lanca. I don’t know what’s happening, but he’s scared. He’s still too far away for me to—”

  He was broken off by the sound of wings. Landon and Myra looked at each other. “Is that him?” she asked.

  Landon shook his head. “I just feel his emotions, but not him. My muscles start twitching when he’s close.”

  He and Myra stared at each other for one second, and then scrambled to cover the fire. Myra slammed the lids over the pots and shoved them in the corner while Landon threw sand over the fire. The coals dimmed with a soft hiss, plunging them into near darkness. Landon groped his way to the shelf and felt around until he found the katana. He eased the box open and drew the blade, making as little sound as possible. He then crept to the sliver of light spilling through the crack and flattened himself against the makeshift door.

  The wings were getting louder. He scanned the bit of sky and ocean he could see, straining his eyes for the coming dragon. He replayed Sri’Lanca’s advice from their lessons. Stab, don’t slice, and aim for the softer scales or the wing membranes. Slicing works for deflecting the tail. . . .

  A dark shape slammed into the cliff. The force of the object was so powerful that Landon fell back. He bit back a curse as a dark blue talon shoved itself inside the crack. The cave plunged into near darkness, and Landon barely made out the light blue scales of a dragon’s belly. He crouched where he was, not daring to move. Myra was moving behind him, her breaths coming in short, terrified gasps. He heard a splash and the cave filled with the stale stench of urine. The sour odor mingled with the sweet smell of the rice and gravy, and Landon gagged. He covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, but silently praised Myra for her quick thinking. She had put out the last of coals with their lidded chamber pot.

  “Do you see anything?” asked a human voice. It was barely audible over the dragon’s heavy breathing.

  “A lot of scratches on the rocks that look dragon-made,” answered the dragon. It sounded feminine. “Sri’Lanca must stop here to rest often. It is a good perch.” The dragon shifted, her talon grating on the stone floor. “I hear water echoing inside the mountain, but it is hard to tell what is and isn’t a cavern. These cliffs are like a river all to itself.”

  “That’s a large crevice you have your claw hooked into,” said the rider. “Can you see anything inside?”

  Landon’s heart raced. He slowly backed away and to the side as the dragon’s belly and claw moved, angling the katana so it wouldn’t reflect any light. He heard Myra scuttle to the wall. Light flooded into the cave and became partially blocked as a large, green eye with horizontal pupils peered inside. Landon watched the eye move, squint, and shift up and down the crack.

  He held his breath. He would rather not attack and give away their hideout, and he prayed it wouldn’t come to that. Too late, he cursed himself for not grabbing the Seal as well.

  After what felt like years, the dragon let out a vexed hiss. “I don’t see anything, and it smells foul in there. Are you sure Lady Drakshu said these were the cliffs of her vision?”

  “She swears by that sky god of hers that she was seeing the Menrian cliffs.” The dragon rider growled in frustration. “If anyone is to recognize their homeland, it would be her. Let us go further north, Ri’Allon. Maybe there is something worth reporting.”

  With a loud scrape and the flap of wings, the dragoness took off from the cliff. Light seeped into the cave once more, and Landon let out his breath. It came out as a half-sob, half-whimper, and he sank onto the ground. He looked at Myra’s stark-white face.

  “That was too close for comfort,” she whispered.

  Landon nodded shakily. “Well, Sri’Lanca did say it was a matter of time before they came looking,” he pointed out, his voice quavering. He sucked in a deep breath. “Damn Seers. She would have a vision of her own home. Good thinking, spilling the chamber pot.”

  Myra smiled weakly. “Thanks. Though it smells awful in here. Do we have any vinegar?”

  They did. Landon mixed the vinegar with water and dumped it over the spill, and then scooped fresh sand on top of it. The overall smell in the cave became bitter and acidic, but Landon preferred that to the urine.

  Keeping both pots covered and the fire dead, Landon and Myra huddled together against the wall. They resumed eating, hoping to find comfort in the simple task. He kept the sword close by and had grabbed the Seal’s pouch as well. He kept glancing at the bright shaft of light, waiting for his dragon to show up. Sri’Lanca’s fear had lessened to anxiety, but Landon still couldn’t feel him.

  It was another couple hours before his back and shoulders began twitching. A few minutes later and the boulder grated to the side, allowing Sri’Lanca to slip through. He moved quickly, dropping the wagon in his tail by the bookshelves and shoving the boulder back into place. He turned to look at them.

  “I thought for sure Ri’Allon saw me,” he said and rustled his wings nervously. “Worse, there’re three more patrolling the cliffs further south, and six soaring over the mountains. It was a miracle that I managed to sneak past them.”

  Landon’s heart sank. “How long will they stay?” he asked.

  Sri’Lanca shook his head. “As long as they need to. It could be just today, or another week. Either way, I don’t think I can go hunting as often as I’d like.”

  “We have plenty of food,” Landon said. He crossed to the wagon Sri’Lanca had br
ought and peered inside. “And you brought more. We should be able to wait them out for at least a week.”

  Nervous flutters skittered through the bond and Sri’Lanca rustled his wings again. “I eat a lot.”

  “We’ll be fine,” Landon insisted. He didn’t like seeing the dragon distressed. “The dragon said that Sayre had a vision of these cliffs. That’s why she and the others came this way.”

  Sri’Lanca growled and anger permeated through the bond. “Balaam freeze that Seeress.”

  “I’m glad you made it back safe,” said Landon. “If you want something to eat, you can have the rest.” He motioned to the two pots.

  Sri’Lanca leaned his head towards Landon and sniffed his bowl. “Any chance we can add cheese? I made sure I got a cart with the cheesiest smell.”

  Myra snorted into her spoon and began coughing. Landon watched anxiously as she hacked and choked. After a couple seconds, she cleared her throat and said in a weak voice, “‘M okay. Went down the wrong pipe. I’m sure cheese won’t ruin it.”

  “Cheese can’t ruin food,” said Sri’Lanca. He splashed one foot in the spring and plucked a wheel of Lythran cheese from a shelf. He uncovered the sauce and began grating cheese into it; running the tip of his claw down the side in short, quick bursts. Landon found it mesmerizing to watch.

  “You sound like Morgan,” said Landon, smirking. “He says the same thing about bacon. Though I do agree with him that bacon’s the best thing in the world.”

  Sri’Lanca began a low, soft trill. “Bacon and cheese . . . we should try that for breakfast tomorrow.”

  Through the bond, Landon felt the sensation of love he knew was directed at him. He stared at Sri’Lanca, trying to read his expression, but it was a picture of utter happiness.

  “The air was foul again today,” Sri’Lanca commented. He licked the sauce, smiled, and dumped the entire pot into his mouth. It was followed by the rice.

  Landon and Myra glanced at each other. Lately, Sri’Lanca had been complaining about the smell of the air. Landon normally paid no attention, thinking Sri’Lanca was trying to make him feel better about living in Menrye, but this was the tenth time he brought it up.

  “We are closer to Hondel,” Landon pointed out. “It’s probably the, um, the dragon fire and ash. I expect we’d smell it. You can smell it as far as Nircana if the wind’s blowing just right.”

  Sri’Lanca looked up at this, frowning. “You can smell it that far away?”

  “Of course,” said Myra around a mouthful. “The smoke usually hovers around the peninsula, but it can get dispersed if the wind is strong enough.”

  Curiosity permeated through the bond at this. “Smoke?”

  “Yeah,” said Myra. “It’s been burning ever since . . . um . . . ever since it was set on fire. That’s why no one’s resettled it. Everything about the place, from the ground to the air, is poisonous. Nothing can grow there. You didn’t know that?”

  Landon admired her quick thinking. He had had the same thought: Sri’Lanca was probably among the dragons that had set Hondel on fire. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, and he felt uncomfortable. Had Sri’Lanca enjoyed chasing down people or animals, a constant stream of fire issuing from his maw? Did he kill Diego and Sierra’s families? Landon tried to resist those questions, but they clung to him, begging to be asked.

  If Sri’Lanca sensed his emotions through the bond, then he didn’t let on. Confusion mixed with his curiosity and his tail began to twitch. “We heard rumors, but no one had a desire to investigate them. I tried talking Judan into flying over Hondel, but he refused. He was too caught up in his duties as vizier to even care.” An edge of bitterness entered his tone and the bond.

  Landon glanced at Myra. Ever since Landon had demanded why the dragon had bonded to him, he had avoided talking about Judan. He had told Myra when Sri’Lanca was gone, and out of respect for Judan’s memory, they both agreed to say nothing about him. Although Sri’Lanca sometimes brought up his deceased tamer, it was only in passing. But this comment . . . he sounded angry with Judan.

  “Sri’Lanca,” Myra said gently, “How did Judan tame you? I don’t mean to pry,” she added when Sri’Lanca turned to look at her, “but you sound like you never liked him. Did he break tradition in order to tame you?”

  The atmosphere became tense and awkward. Both Sri’Lanca and Landon avoided looking at each other.

  “No, he tamed me the proper way,” said Sri’Lanca after several seconds. He was nonchalant, but the bond was abuzz with anxiety. “He hatched me from an egg he stole from his father’s dragoness. Yes, his father was a Guard, and he was ecstatic when my mother laid a clutch when he was fourteen. Dragon eggs incubate for two years, which meant the eggs would hatch within his birthday month.

  “My mother,” affection tinged the bond and Landon found himself smiling in response, “made the task difficult for Judan, harder than most tamed dragons do. Unlike wild dragons, tamed dragonesses do not guard their nests as closely. They understand the blessings of the bond and are happy if a boy succeeds in stealing an egg. But she wanted him to be worthy of her children. It took him several tries before he succeeded. He stole my egg and hid in a cave on the outskirts of his family’s property until I hatched. Our bond didn’t form until a couple days after. We were playing in a stream and I was enjoying our game so much that I decided to be with him forever. The bond formed, and that was that.”

  Landon pictured Sri’Lanca, but smaller and with less teeth, cuddling with a teenage version of Judan. He imagined a baby dragon trotting along his side, like a little brother. That whimsical thought dissipated as Sri’Lanca continued.

  “I miss those days,” the dragon explained, and longing mingled with his affection. “Judan was a good man. He was ambitious, yes, but he always treated his wife and children like treasures. He despised the brothels—hence his determination to keep Liliana out of them. He loved me and I loved him . . . until the emperor asked us to retrieve a prisoner from the Menrians.” His feelings changed to shame, and he hesitantly met Landon’s eyes.

  “My father,” Landon whispered.

  “Your father,” Sri’Lanca repeated. “Judan was wing leader at the time—that is like a general in your terms. The emperor requested he attend a meeting with him and the current vizier. After that meeting, he told me we were to retrieve a Hondelite that had been captured by the Menrians. The Menrians had been in Lythra on state business, and saw a man cross the river with a small bundle. When they accosted the man, he threw what they identified as a dragon egg into the river and tried to escape. The Menrians captured the theif, but were unable to save the egg.

  “I was enraged, of course, and readily agreed to bring the thief to justice. We went to the border, crossed the Tareth River, and met the Menrian group.” Sri’Lanca looked away, his guilt threatening to overwhelm Landon. “I was momentarily confused at that point. They said they had been visiting Lythra, yet the cart they dragged the thief from resembled a prison transport wagon. I brushed it off as nothing important, and happily seized the Hondelite thief and carried him to the capitol. There, your father stood trial before the emperor and the region’s Guard, screaming his innocence. As a gesture of mercy, Dre’Goran proclaimed that if Diego’s wife would surrender to him, then Hondel would be spared. As you know, the Hondelite king was given a month to find her and he failed. . . .”

  Sri’Lanca stopped, his guilt throbbing through the bond to Landon’s soul. Coal-like tears welled in the corner of the dragon’s eyes. They didn’t fall but glimmered like two tiny embers burning against the dark scales.

  “Did Judan know about Dre’Goran’s deal with Sayre?” Landon asked quietly.

  The dragon nodded. “The emperor and vizier told him at the meeting, but I didn’t find out until the Guard flew to Hondel.” Sri’Lanca’s voice became strained, and his distressed sharpened in the bond. “We didn’t go to Hondel, but stayed behind to safeguard Dagnor in case the other nations retaliated.

  “I wa
s furious with this decision and argued with Judan until nightfall. Even the emperor and his dragoness went! I wanted to go. I wanted to punish that thieving bastard’s country. He had not only crossed into our lands, but he had killed an unborn hatchling, just as his ancestors had done centuries before.

  “I did not let up my fury towards Judan until the Guard returned. They were reveling in their victory, boasting of Hondel’s destruction. It was as I was venting my envy that Judan asked to speak to me in private. We went to a nearby valley and there he told me everything. He told me about the meeting, about Dre’Goran’s deal with Sayre concerning the Wizard’s Seal, and his suggestion to destroy Hondel so Sayre would never dare attack us.”

  “That was Judan’s idea?” Landon said. He felt like his whole body had lost feeling. “I thought that was all Dre’Goran’s idea.”

  Shame and anger roiled in the bond. “You see why I was angry with him? He had lied to his people and my kin. Tamer and dragon flew to Hondel thinking they were avenging a crime, but it was all a ploy.”

  Sri’Lanca cast his eyes around as though searching for comfort. “I was furious with Judan at that point. He had betrayed me, caused me to deceive my own people. He tried to deter my anger by reminding me that we hadn’t been involved in Hondel’s destruction. He had volunteered to stay behind to protect me. He knew I would be heartbroken if I knew the real reason behind Hondel’s destruction. I told him that meant nothing. I already had committed the most unpardonable sin.”

  “He caused you to lie,” Landon said softly. His pity pushed against the dragon’s emotions. “He made you his accomplice to Sayre and Dre’Goran’s conspiracy. Sri’Lanca . . . does the emperor’s dragon know?”

  The shaft of light from the crack threw harsh shadows across the dragon’s face. “She does. After Judan told me all this, I went straight to her and demanded to know if it was true. She confessed that it was. She did not like it anymore than I did, but she was willing to commit that sin if it meant protecting Dagnor. I disagreed, and I threatened to tell every dragon, both young and old, of what the emperor had done. Judan . . . Judan was with me when I confronted Fey’Neran. He threatened to take his own life if I told another soul.”