Invasion and Dragons

by Jekka Jones

  When they rounded the building, Landon’s terror almost overwhelmed him again. He dragged Myra to a halt, shaking like a leaf. The others stopped, speaking gibberish in soothing tones.

  The Nircanians had been hard at work. They were in the process of erecting canopies from any sort of cloth or lean-to they could find and spread blankets of all sizes and ragged states over boxes, broken carts, or stone blocks. Scattered throughout the tables and canopies were fire pits large enough to roast the skinned carcasses of deer and elk. The smell of cooking meat, pastries, and fruit sent Landon’s stomach rumbling.

  His wasn’t the only one. Morgan’s belly unleashed a growl that rivaled a dragon’s. He grabbed his stomach with his good hand and said something that drew laughter from the others. Even Landon managed a genuine smile.

  “Me too!” said Sri’Lanca, laughing. “They better have lots of cheese.”

  A large shadow passed over them. Landon looked up to see Ti’Luthin swooping and diving, calling at the top of his voice.

  It sounded to Landon that he had only spoken a few words before every person present was going crazy, including the five with him. They began to cheer and dance in place. Their torn and ragged clothes flapped around their boney frames as they whooped in jubilation. They grabbed and hugged the nearest person. The men pounded each other on the back, and a few grabbed women and pressed their blank faces together.

  Myra grabbed his face in both hands and pressed her invisible lips to his. It took all of Landon’s self-control not to pull away. He stood still, accepting the kiss, even though his mind screamed with fear. It lasted for a second, and then she pulled away and embraced Will. Juan grabbed Landon in a crushing hug, jabbering in that incoherent tongue.

  “Sri’Lanca, what’s going on?” Landon cried.

  Sri’Lanca was making a strange trilling sound, and his tail thrashed like a fish on land. “The armies are leaving!” he said, turning his head to look at Landon. “Ti’Luthin says they are moving north as fast as they can, and he expects they will be gone within a month. We did it, Landon! We won!”

  Sri’Lanca launched himself into the sky. He flipped, twirled, and spiraled through the summer air, joining Ti’Luthin in his joy. The cheers changed to a song, a resounding chorus as men, women, and children bellowed at the top of their lungs. To Landon, it sounded like thousands of people singing the same melody but making up their own words. It did nothing to ease his fright.

  “Everyone’s gone mad,” Landon said.

  A happy laugh came from Myra, and she took his head once more and kissed him long and hard on the lips. She then took his hand and led him towards the throng.

  As soon as Landon came near the Nircanians, the song was replaced with happy shouts. Faceless people of all ages and genders swarmed towards him. Although he knew they were his people, Landon panicked at seeing the mob of blank heads coming at him. Thankfully, his friends and adopted brother formed a tight circle around him—more to prevent him from bolting than to keep the crowd away. They jabbered earnestly to the Nircanians until the people moved back.

  “T-thank you,” Landon stammered, clinging to Myra. Her invisible lips brushed his cheek, and she chattered something comforting.

  The crowd retreated, allowing Landon and the others a clear path to a group of people near a large fire pit. Landon recognized his parents among the small group of men and women. A medly of children and teenagers whirled around them in ragged clothes, shouting for joy. Every person stopped what he or she was doing and rushed to embrace Landon and his group.

  “Mr. Higgins,” Landon said, recognizing Myra’s father.

  Mr. Higgins nodded and gripped Landon tighter. Three teenagers joined him, and Landon recognized them as Myra’s siblings. A little girl in rags latched onto Landon’s legs, and Morgan pried her off. Landon realized she was Morgan’s little sister, but where were their parents? His sister, Heather, embraced him, followed by both Daisy and Cassie’s husbands and their children. Landon endured their embraces, forcing himself to smile even though he wanted to scream.

  Diego approached Landon and placed both hands on his shoulders. Landon stared at the place where his father’s eyes would be.

  “H-h-howsy, Dad,” Landon squeaked. He tried to smile and failed. He couldn’t do it. His mind and soul were expended from the effort of trying to keep himself from screaming and shoving away his family.

  “Callare bimble, nies quillion,” murmured Diego’s voice. “Soquil jilliboom.”

  Landon shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. “I don’t know.” He looked around at all the faceless people—the monsters—and began to shake. “I shouldn’t be here. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  Diego shook his head and embraced him. Landon felt him shaking, his breath broken with sobs. Sierra and Alyssa joined them, forcing themselves into the embrace so Landon was squished between the three of them. He stood there, unsure what to do, until they released him. Alyssa turned and picked up a stack of blankets. She pressed them into Landon’s arms and pointed to several boxes that were grouped together.

  “T-those the tables?” he asked. Alyssa nodded.

  As he spread the blankets over the makeshift tables, Landon’s terror eased. His family stayed with him, speaking to other faceless people before allowing them to approach.

  No one tried to speak to him. The Nircanians instead communicated their joy with a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, or took his hand when they needed his attention. If a faceless Nircanian wanted to embrace Landon, they would hold out their arms and wait for him to move. At first, Landon shook his head and apologized, but as he calmed down, he began accepting the hugs. It didn’t help his fear, but it didn’t make it worse either.

  Within an hour, the makeshift tables were laden with food, and everyone was finding seats. Sri’Lanca and Ti’Luthin returned, settling down on a patch of earth the Nircanians had left bare for them. Myra sat with Landon, her arm linked through his, and her head resting on his shoulder, while his parents sat on his other side. There was a lot of talking before Diego stood. A silence fell over the table as he spoke, heads tilted towards the table. It wasn’t until his father finished with a chorus of muddled words from everyone around the table that Landon realized Diego had been praying.

  “You could’ve warned me!” he whispered at Sri’Lanca.

  “I was about to but he was faster.” His dragon nudged him with his nose. “Eat.”

  “What about you?”

  “Pass me that wheel of cheese.”

  Landon did so, grinning as the white and yellow wheel disappeared in two bites. He grabbed a few more chunks of cheese and meat and fed those to his dragon, taking a childish pleasure as Sri’Lanca smacked his lips. Myra nudged him, drawing his attention to a wooden platter with meat, bread, and fruit. Landon didn’t need telling twice. After all the running and terror, his stomach was as empty as when he had woken up that afternoon.

  The day stretched into the early evening hours. A few Nircanians scurried about, distributing food and blankets. As the sun began to set, one of the judges nearby Landon’s table stood up and gave a speech. Sri’Lanca translated in a whisper, doing his best to not overpower the judge.

  Interim Chief Judge Rickins spoke in a loud and carrying voice, praising the Most High and the courage of the Nircanians in the face of bondage. She commended Alyssa, Diego, and Sierra for never giving up and being true followers of Jeshua despite the sorrows and terrors they suffered. She spoke at length and finished by turning towards Landon’s table and raising her tin cup.

  “Last of all,” Sri’Lanca translated. “I wish to honor the bravery of Landon Durn-Dayn. Landon, I know you cannot understand my words or remember what has happened, but you have my gratitude. Without you, Nircana would have never been freed. Without your courage, the nations and the Wizard’s Seal would have destroyed us all. You gave your blood, soul, and mind to this country and her people. Thank you, Son of Hondel, for liberating us. To Landon!”

  Everyo
ne who had been listening echoed the statement with random words, and drank from whatever cup or canteen they had on hand. Landon blushed, unsure if he should say anything. Diego squeezed his wrist, his faceless head pointed at Landon.

  Landon forced a smile. “Thank you, I guess.”

  This drew several sad chuckles from everyone close enough to hear. The feast resumed, but Landon was full. He shook his head as a plate of berries came his way and looked to the west. His breath caught, and he promptly forgot his fear.

  “Look at the sunset,” he said, nudging Myra and pointing. She and Sri’Lanca followed his finger.

  The sun looked like it was on fire, flushing the sky with a dark red light. The trees and mountain slopes closest to it were painted with a dark orange color, making it appear as if the forest were a blazing inferno. The thin clouds across the sky looked like droplets of blood frozen in time.

  “Look how red that is,” Landon marveled. “It’s almost like the sky’s bleeding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before, have you?” He turned to Myra, suppressing a flutter of fear as he looked at her.

  Myra’s head was facing him. The light from the sunset threw shadows across the flesh-colored oval, but they never revealed the features of her face. She gave the barest nod of her head and turned towards the sky. Landon sensed she was disturbed over something. He was about to ask, thought better of it, and instead took her in his arms. She snuggled into him and laid her head on his shoulder.

  Landon’s heart was racing, yet he congratulated himself for being brave. He noticed she was shaking and asked, “Are you cold?”

  Myra shook her head.

  Landon thought for a second. “Is it your wound? Do you need to lie down?”

  She shook her head again. “Nem,” she said firmly.

  “You’re shaking though. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Myra gave a firm nod of her head and snuggled into Landon. He looked at Sri’Lanca for an explanation.

  His dragon gazed at him with sadness. Landon was about to ask what he had done wrong, but Sri’Lanca looked away to admire the sunset. Sighing, he laid his cheek on Myra’s soft hair and willed himself to stay calm.

  Together, amidst the celebrations of the faceless creatures, they watched the blood-red summer sky darken to black.

  One Year Later

  The monolith reared above Landon, almost fifteen feet tall. The bottom third of it was a tall rectangular base, and the rest was a sculpture of himself holding the Wizard’s Seal. The amulet was larger than the original and balanced upright on two loops, with one loop on each of the statue’s palms. A large plaque was set in the center of the north-facing panel right below the statue.

  IN REMEMBRANCE OF THE

  SACRIFICE OF LANDON DURN-DAYN

  AND THE LIVES LOST DURING

  THE WAR OF THE SEAL

  WE WILL NEVER FORGET

  AND WE HOPE TO FORGIVE

  Names of dead Nircanians and their ages were carved all around the plaque and on the other three sides. They were small and cramped together, but gouged deep in the smooth marble. Over ten thousand Nircanians had died from war and enslavement, including Chief Judge Temmings and his entire family. Their bodies had been laid to rest in the mountains and the ground behind the monument.

  A year of hard work and care had turned the prison camp into a thriving settlement. The unfinished buildings had been torn down, the blocks used to build smaller buildings and houses. The area that once had been a mass graveyard had been transformed into a large park with saplings lining the perimeter. The monument of Landon stood at the entrance, and more were being created for the other mass graves scattered among the Rillis Mountains.

  Landon walked to the south panel and found one of the names that meant the most to him.

  Eli Durn — 66

  Surrounding Eli’s name were others he knew and loved. His sisters, Cassie and Daisy had died in the prison camps, along with Will’s wife and Heather’s husband. Almost half of his nieces and nephews had died, and Morgan had lost both of his parents, leaving him to take care of his little sister. Out of Myra’s eight siblings, only three survived other than herself. Her mother died when the nations invaded the Rillis Mountains.

  He looked back up at the statue. He wished they hadn’t memorialized him. It was strange to see his face frozen with a mixture of peace and determination, gazing at the horizon. When they had begun building it, he’d tried to talk the judges and people out of it. That had failed. His was the one voice against thousands. Even Sri’Lanca and his parents wanted it that way.

  They called him a hero, but he didn’t feel like one. A hero was supposed to remember his deeds, right? Months of labor among his people had done little good for him. He remembered nothing, and he still wanted to scream and run when he saw a faceless person. He could understand writing, but that was only helpful if he remembered to keep a pen and paper on hand.

  Rain began to fall. It started as a sprinkle, and then became a steady pour. The few people that were in the square hurried for cover, shouting or laughing. Landon wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and stayed where he was. The summer rain felt good. He imagined it washing himself away, piece by piece until nothing remained.

  A voice sounded from behind. He knew it was Myra, no doubt coming to collect him.

  Myra Higgins. She had been the most patient out of everyone. A few days after the armies had completely left Nircana’s borders, his beautiful and faceless fiancé had come to him and Sri’Lanca to discuss a wedding. Landon, hearing this, had almost fainted from sheer terror at the thought of sharing a bed with her. He had tried not to show it, but Sri’Lanca had betrayed his emotions to Myra. She decided to postpone a wedding until Landon got better.

  Days became weeks and weeks became months, and she had stuck by his side, hugging him, speaking to him, and kissing him. But Landon wasn’t getting better. He felt like he was getting worse. It wasn’t until Morgan and Liliana were married, and Juan became engaged, that Landon realized he would never heal. And so, with terror shaking his entire being, he had told Myra to pick a date for their wedding. She had refused at first, believing Landon would heal, but he had insisted. In the end, she had agreed and the date was set.

  The wedding was tomorrow.

  Myra called again, but Landon ignored her.

  “She probably wants me to come inside before I catch a cold,” he told the statue. “She’d be furious if I got sick before our wedding.” He shivered. “I don’t think I should be getting married, do you? She shouldn’t have a mentally crippled husband like me.”

  The statue said nothing. It held the Seal, displaying the pride and satisfaction that Landon didn’t feel.

  “You’re no help,” he muttered and wished Sri’Lanca were close by. The invisible line was as thin as a fishing line and stretched to the northwest. His dragon had just left to hunt, and it would be several hours before he returned. A year later, and he still couldn’t feel Sri’Lanca’s emotions.

  A hand touched his elbow, and Landon steeled himself against the wave of panic. He mustered up a brave smile, hoping it wouldn’t dampen Myra’s spirits, and turned.

  He froze.

  He was expecting the flesh-toned oval of Myra’s head, the same facelessness he had been seeing for a year, not a pair of blue eyes. They were as blue as a summer sky and sat where the eyes were supposed to be. They stared and blinked against the rain.

  Landon rubbed his eyes, digging his knuckles hard against his eyelids and looked again. The eyes were still there, full of concern, but now the fleshy part beneath it was blurred. It looked like a mouth.

  “Oh skies,” Landon said without thinking. “This can’t be real.”

  The eyes widened with fear, and Myra took his hand. The blurry mouth moved.

  “Landon, humstinks real,” came her voice, slow and careful. It sounded garbled, like she was speaking through water. “Mishibid real. Please niddle be afraid.”

  Landon’s breath caught in his t
hroat. He understood some words! His heart was doing somersaults until his chest hurt. It unnerved him that she still didn’t have a nose, or ears and eyebrows, but he wasn’t terrified. He didn’t flinch when she touched his cheek. Was this really happening? He thought the dead dragons had wounded him beyond repair.

  He shook his head and rubbed his eyes again.

  “Landon,” Myra pressed, wrapping her arms around him. She buried her face into his chest. “Oh massana, please don’t gethn worse.”

  Her words struck him like a blow, and Landon knew it was really happening. The dragon’s effects were waning. For the first time in weeks, joy flared in his heart, and he laughed. Myra jerked away from him, her hands tightening on his arms. He gently took her head in his hands. Tears and rain trickled down her confused face.

  “Myra,” he said slowly, “you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

  Her eyes widened. “What pezo porus?”

  Landon laughed again. “I said you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”

  “But . . .” she gasped. “Landon, woozle you merganser me?”

  Landon grinned. “A little, but it’s enough.” He kissed each of her eyes. “I can see you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

  “But . . . but how?” she stuttered.

  “Who cares?” He kissed her long and hard.

  He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers, staring into her eyes. “I love you, and the angels be thanked that you’ll be my wife.”

  Her mouth spread into a huge and ecstatic grin he could barely see. Myra grabbed his hand and began to run. Landon allowed himself to be pulled along, jumping in puddles as they went. Myra whooped and hollered like a girl on the last day of school.

  The bond connecting him to Sri’Lanca began to slowly retract and thicken, signaling his dragon’s speedy return. No doubt he felt Landon’s joy and was coming to investigate.