Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  His courage failed him.

  Thousands of men, women, and children poured from the buildings and the lower mountain slopes, streaming into the area. Many carried or supported each other while others hefted sacks over their shoulders. Every single one of them, from the most gray-haired adult to the smallest child in arms, was faceless. They chattered excitedly to one another in the language that was—but wasn’t—Landon’s native tongue.

  “Dragons won’t lie. Dragons won’t lie. Dragons won’t lie.”

  No matter how many times Landon told himself that, his fear swelled. The sight of his beloved people stepping into the sunlight should have filled him with joy, but instead he felt terror. No matter how much he told himself they weren’t monsters, that’s what he saw.

  Landon reeled from the entrance and stumbled back to the blocks. He went around them and sank into the shadowed corner of the wall. He hugged his knees to his chest, sobbing and praying for Sri’Lanca to return. The bond wasn’t as thin as when he had been running through the camp, but it wasn’t thick either.

  “I wish I hadn’t woken up,” he said to his knees. “I wish I was dead.” He buried his head in arms, wiping his eyes and nose on his knees. “Oh God, please save me. . . .”

  “Ikimani?”

  Landon jerked. Standing several yards from him was the Myra-creature. He stiffened, shocked that she had gotten so close without him hearing. She raised her hands, palms forward, and slowly stepped to the farthest stone block from him. She eased herself onto the flat surface, the blank head facing him, and said nothing. Landon stared at her, his terrified mind telling him to run. She sat there, making no move or attempt to engage him in conversation.

  Unable to take her silent gaze, Landon asked, “You’re really Myra?”

  She nodded.

  “And everyone out there,” Landon jerked a shaky finger to the cheering crowd beyond the walls, “is Nircanian?”

  Nod.

  “Everything Sri’Lanca said about me and the Seal is true?”

  Another nod.

  “Am . . . am I insane?”

  No movement and then another nod, slower and jerkier than the first three. Landon noticed her hands were clenched on her knees, and they trembled. Her shoulders shook, and something dripped from her chin onto her lap. Each drip winked in the light.

  She was crying.

  He stared at her for several heartbeats. It unnerved him that the Myra-monster—no, Myra just sat. What was she waiting for?

  Landon decided to ask her that. “Are you waiting for me?”

  She nodded.

  Landon swallowed. “Do . . . do you want me t-to do s-s-something?”

  This time she shrugged. Landon didn’t know what to make of that. It occurred to him what he must look like, cowering in the corner, sniffling and flinching at every sound. Sri’Lanca had said he’d risked his sanity to end a war. If he was brave enough to do that . . .

  Suppressing the desire to throw himself off the nearest scaffold, Landon got to his feet. He slowly walked towards the block adjacent to the mons—no, Myra. He tried to look brave, but his body shook like a leaf in a storm. His pulse quickened the closer he got to that empty, flesh-colored oval that was Myra’s face. He could hardly draw breath from terror, yet he forced himself to keep walking. When he reached the block, he sat as far from her as possible.

  There! I did it! Now what? He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He sat and stared at Myra, shaking and fearing what she would do next.

  She stood and slowly changed seats so she perched on the same block as him. She sat in the middle, easily within reach, but kept her hands on her lap. Landon’s stomach churned until he thought he would throw up. He forced himself to remain seated. Another tear dropped from Myra’s chin, yet her face didn’t look wet. If it weren’t for the winking drops and her shaking shoulders, Landon wouldn’t have known she was still crying.

  “I’m sorry,” he managed to whisper. “I believe you’re Myra, but I can’t . . .”

  “Jello huntstacks goob weeble,” Myra replied.

  “Bless you,” Landon said, forcing a smile. Myra gave a sad laugh and wiped the place where her eyes would’ve been with one hand. As she did so, a thought occurred to him.

  “M-Myra,” he began and wished his voice hadn’t come out as a squeak, “have you known me for a long time?”

  Myra nodded, began to say something but stopped herself. Instead she pointed to herself, then him, and put out one hand so it was about a child’s height from the ground.

  “Since we were kids?” he asked. Myra nodded eagerly, and he heard a happy sigh come from her. That quelled his terror a bit. “Do you know,” he went on, “if I—er . . . if I have ever killed a dragon?”

  Landon felt his face heat. Not the best question to throw at his fiancé after calling her a monster, but what else could he do? It had been nagging him since Sri’Lanca had explained the Seal’s destruction. He couldn’t ask Sri’Lanca because he and the dragon hadn’t been bonded for long. He could ask one of his parents, but it sounded like he had been apart from them for a good portion of the past year. They wouldn’t know unless he had told them, and Landon didn’t know if he would’ve confessed to slaying a dragon or not.

  Myra’s faceless head stared at him. Landon sensed her confusion, and for a moment dread filled him, but she vehemently shook her head.

  “I’ve never killed a dragon?” he repeated.

  Myra nodded and rattled off something. Landon shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

  Myra was silent, and then she carefully took Landon’s hand. Landon jerked, but he managed to resist the urge to rip his hand free. Telling himself that his fear was irrational, he allowed Myra to bring his hand to her chin.

  He felt her lips. They pressed against his fingers, firm and shaking. He felt her breath on his skin, ragged with grief, and tears fell onto his hand, invisible until they touched his skin. Myra clung to his hand like he was a lifeline—or was she trying to be his? Was she trying to replace his terror with hope? In that moment, Landon realized she was just as frightened as he was.

  Fighting back his terror with renewed fervor, Landon took Myra into his arms. She sagged into his embrace, burying her face into his chest. He felt her nose pressing into his sternum, and her tears dampened his thin shirt.

  “I’m sorry I stabbed you,” Landon said, remembering Sri’Lanca’s explanation. “I should’ve been strong enough to stop Niklas.”

  Myra pulled away, shaking her head. “Kipper snacks vocom yoldalee, weem.” Her voice was harsh and furious, as if they had had this conversation before.

  “I’m sorry,” Landon repeated. Myra shook her head and spoke some more. Landon stared at her unmarked head, wishing Sri’Lanca was back so he could translate.

  As if in response to his desire, the bond began to reel into the Landon’s chest, thickening as it did so. He looked towards the mountain and saw a dragonish shape winging his way. “Sri’Lanca’s coming back,” he said, unable to hide the relief in his voice. It’d be easier to sit with Myra if his dragon was there.

  As Sri’Lanca drew closer, Landon noticed three figures on his back. One was Juan and the red-haired woman who had been riding Ti’Luthin. The third person was a man, with dark hair and his skin was slightly lighter than Juan’s. He sat behind the red-haired woman, whooping and hollering, with Juan behind him. One of his arms, Landon noticed, was in a sling. Myra raised a hand and waved, and both the young men waved in return, shouting with glee. Sri’Lanca was smiling and laughing. Forcing down the swelling thoughts of betrayal, Landon studied the unknown man and woman.

  “Morgan,” he said when Sri’Lanca was coasting in for a landing. “And Liliana. She and Ti’Luthin are bonded.”

  Sri’Lanca landed, and Myra jumped to her feet. She helped Liliana, Morgan, and Juan to the ground, hugging each of them in turn. Landon stayed where he was, struggling to remain seated.

  Morgan’s faceless
head turned towards Landon and he moved as if to run at him, but Sri’Lanca stopped him with his tail. “Easy, Morgan,” he said. “Landon’s barely holding himself together right now.”

  Morgan rattled off something in gibberish, raised his good hand and approached Landon. Landon gulped, gripping the stone until his fingers hurt. Myra was helping Juan over, and Liliana followed behind. Morgan didn’t take a seat on the stone, but sat down at Landon’s feet. Liliana joined him and twined her arm through his uninjured one. Myra sat beside Landon and Juan on the other side of her. Landon sucked in deep breaths, jumping as Morgan began fiddling with his sling.

  “Landon, it’s okay,” Sri’Lanca soothed. He sat down so his body encircled Landon and his faceless friends.

  “I know,” Landon squeaked. “I’m tr-trying.” Yet he wanted to run. Every muscle in his body was ready to sprint to the end of the world. Myra slid her arm around his waist, bringing her chin towards his cheek. Her invisible lips pressed against his skin, and she twittered something.

  “Myra’s reminding you that you’re safe, Landon,” Sri’Lanca translated. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “Okay.” Landon gulped. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he asked Morgan.

  Morgan was yanking on his sling. He said something in an annoyed voice, drawing laughter from the others. Landon was about to ask what was so funny, when Morgan withdrew a small notebook. He flashed it at Landon, jabbering excitedly. Myra took the notebook, shaking her head, and placed it on Landon’s lap. The leather cover was unmarked and plain.

  “That’s Christovan’s account,” Sri’Lanca said to Landon’s confused expression. “The handwriting is yours. You wrote it while I translated.”

  Landon looked at his dragon. Sri’Lanca looked hopeful, as if seeing his own handwriting would help ease the insanity. Landon, on the other hand, feared he wouldn’t be able to read it. If words were gibberish when spoken, what if they were gibberish on paper too?

  Juan said something, and Sri’Lanca translated. “Just try, Landon. If you can’t understand the words, then I will read it to you.”

  Hesitantly, Landon opened the notebook to the first page. He read, I am about to die.

  Despite a morbid first sentence, Landon let out an explosive breath of relief. “I can read it!”

  His announcement was met with small cheers from the others. Sri’Lanca gave a nervous chuckle and flicked his wings. “Go on, Landon, read it. If you have any questions, just ask.”

  Landon smiled, his terror forgotten as he stared at his handwriting. He studied the penmanship for a few minutes, hoping it would bring back memories. It didn’t, and reluctantly he began to read. Morgan, Liliana, Myra, and Juan chatted with each other, with an occasional response from Sri’Lanca.

  Landon barely heard them. The more he read, the more his heart raced.

  The Wizard’s Seal contained the power and life force of thousands of dragons. Those dragons he had seen once existed. Their souls had been trapped in the Wizard’s Seal, and he had freed them when he destroyed the power. Those souls, enraged at being robbed of life, had punished Landon for the wizards’ crimes. They had tried to kill him, yet his bond to Sri’Lanca had saved him. They had been furious with these wizards, not him.

  “Son or Daughter of Thirien Keene, forgive me. God, Goddess, or whatever deity that may be watching, forgive me.”

  Landon stared at those final words, shaking with astonishment. “It’s not my fault,” he said quietly.

  The dragon and humans stopped their conversation in mid sentence. “What’s not your fault?” asked Sri’Lanca.

  Landon looked up at him, joy blossoming in his soul. “I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill the dragons!”

  Four faceless heads gazed at him, yet Landon knew they were all wearing the same confused expression as Sri’Lanca.

  “Minnium jek opaline?” asked Morgan. Myra, Juan, and Liliana all nodded.

  “He, as well as myself, would like you to explain,” Sri’Lanca translated.

  “It was my dream,” Landon said. “I didn’t want to say in front of the faceless dragons, but I saw all the dead dragons, the ones the wizards murdered.” He stabbed a finger at the book. “They were the ones freezing me to death, trying to kill me. I saw them one by one, and I knew their names. Vin’Hassen. San’Beren. Kali’Revvi. They kept accusing me of killing them. I told that I hadn’t, that I was bonded to a dragon, but they didn’t believe me. They wanted me to pay for their deaths.”

  His words were met with shocked silence. His friends’ faceless heads jerked towards each other and they twittered nervously. Landon flipped through the pages, rereading snatches of the record. His mind raced every time he read “dragons” or “wizards.” His heart skipped a beat when he reread, She screamed when I tried to take her in my arms, calling me a monster.

  That’s what had happened to him. The bond protected him by making him sleep, but the dead dragons were not going to let him go that easily. Their final act of revenge was to take his mind. He had woken up to a world of monsters. He had tried to kill himself like the wizardress. Landon shuddered, unnerved with how close he had come to death.

  “Landon, what is it?” asked Sri’Lanca, nervously.

  Landon looked up, realizing that his emotions were probably all over the place. He smiled and read the line out loud. “That’s what happened to me,” he explained, and went on to tell how the thousands of dragons began to lose their faces and language. He talked about seeing Sri’Lanca, them touching, him catching a glimpse of Eli, Oni, and his Hondelite uncle, and then waking up.

  The more he spoke, the more Sri’Lanca’s expression became horrified, and his three friends were still as statues. Deep down, Landon knew he shouldn’t be smiling, but he was. He couldn’t stop. He finally understood what had happened to him.

  No sooner had he finished that Myra, Juan, Liliana, and Morgan erupted in a cacophony of noise. They were gesturing excitedly, pointing from the notebook, to Landon, and to Sri’Lanca. Sri’Lanca said nothing, and Landon didn’t ask for a translation. He was too relieved to care. It wasn’t his fault! He hadn’t killed those dragons.

  “Landon,” Sri’Lanca said after several minutes, “do you promise to keep this secret?”

  The four human’s voices were cut off. Landon blinked at Sri’Lanca. “Secret? Why?”

  “If anyone, learns this was how the wizards gained their powers, they would start killing the dragons. When we were speaking with the kings, do you remember when Myra spoke for a long time?”

  Landon nodded.

  “She was telling the kings about this account, but she told them the wizards destroyed the dragons to remove competition, not for power. She did that so I wouldn’t have to reveal the truth. Do you understand? No one knows the dragons were slaughtered for their magic except us,” Sri’Lanca gestured to Landon’s friends and fiancé. “This is dangerous information, Landon, as dangerous as the Wizard’s Seal. No one else must know—not even Alyssa, your siblings, and the judges. I am not even going to tell Dre’Goran. I intend to tell Diego, Sierra, and Ti’Luthin, but no one else. Will you keep it secret as well?”

  Landon looked into those cat-like eyes and nodded. “I don’t want anymore dragons to die,” he said firmly. “That being said, what should we do with this?” He tapped on the book’s cover.

  Sri’Lanca was silent for a moment, studying the notebook. Landon could see his thoughts churning and decisions being made. After a couple minutes, Sri’Lanca took the notebook and held it between two claws. He blew a thin stream of fire until the notebook was blazing. He dropped it on the ground and they watched it burn to ashes.

  “What about the original account?” Landon asked. He thought of the king-monsters huddled in a room, pouring over an old parchment. “What if someone finds that and translates it again?”

  Sri’Lanca smiled, his mouth curling to reveal the tips of his teeth. “You already destroyed that, my tamer. You also planned to destroy our translation onc
e we showed your parents,” he pointed a claw at the smoldering ashes. “But I think this is for the best. Your parents will believe us. They will understand our wisdom in destroying the record rather than showing them in person. They, more so than anyone on this continent, understand the importance of history best left forgotten.”

  Morgan started to speak but broke off at the sound of running feet. They all turned to the entrance to see Will round the corner. He stopped, his faceless head turning slightly from side to side. Will walked slowly forward, raising his hands in peace. Landon fought down a wave of panic. He had to be brave.

  Forcing a smile that he knew didn’t mask his terror, Landon said, “It’s all right, Will. I know who you are.”

  Will dropped his hands, and Landon could tell by his posture that he was relieved. He crossed to Landon, maneuvering around Morgan and Liliana, and embraced him. Landon flinched but returned the hug, aware of Will’s ear pressing against his own. Will pulled away and asked a question. Landon glanced at Sri’Lanca, who was nodding with the other four.

  “Master Translator?” Landon said.

  The corner of the dragon’s mouth twitched with a smile. “The Nircanians are having a celebratory feast,” Sri’Lanca translated. “He is asking if you want to join.”

  Despite knowing the truth, Landon’s stomach clenched. Myra he could handle. Juan, Liliana, and Morgan were a struggle, but thousands of faceless people? Landon’s fear began to creep to terror, and Myra took his hand and kissed it. He realized that her gesture was an attempt to calm his nerves.

  Landon swallowed and said in a tremulous voice, “Okay. I’ll come.”

  Will said something to which Sri’Lanca replied, “As long as we keep people from swarming him, he’ll be all right. Come, let’s celebrate!” The dragon rose and led the way.

  The others trailed after Sri’Lanca, Myra pulling on Landon’s hand until he began to walk. He followed like a terrified puppy. If it weren’t for Myra’s sure grip on his hand, he would have returned to the shadows of the building and cowered there for the rest of his life.