by Craig Askham
“No time for sleeping, Akelius.” The voice made him start, and his eyes popped open like someone had pushed a couple of dollars into his coin slot. At some point while he’d been drifting off, Vantalon had parked his back against the same tree trunk as him, ninety degrees to his left.
“Wirio’s Balls!” He didn’t know if he’d thought something more Earth-related and his translator was putting different words in his mouth, or if he’d just gotten used to the popular Vanguran curse after all these months of adventuring. Either way, Wirio’s Balls was what came out. “How long have you been there?”
“Long enough. Sorry, couldn’t resist. Go back to sleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep.”
“Fine, go back to breathing really deeply with your eyes closed.”
“Caspillo admitted to me that Vykron’s up to something, you know. Said he was here to protect us and the dragon.”
Vantalon didn’t reply. Ben craned his neck to check on him, and saw he was deep in thought with his eyes on Vykron. He straightened up again and felt the drowsiness forcing his eyes closed once more. This time, he was powerless to stop them and, seconds later, he was fast asleep.
Fifteen
Seconds, minutes, or maybe even hours later, a hand shook Ben awake. He reluctantly forced his heavy eyelids apart, to see Vantalon’s face uncomfortably close to his own.
“What the…?”
The older man pressed a finger to his lips. In contrast to Ben’s, his own eyes were wide with excitement.
“Shhh.”
“What is it?” he whispered.
“Come on, follow me. Be quiet.”
He climbed quickly to his feet, against the wishes of a back that had been leaning against hard wood for too long and demanded slower, more frugal movements. He screwed up his face and tried to ignore the pain. Glancing ahead, he saw that the rest of the group were either crouched down or lying on their bellies in the longer grass by the edge of the rock pool. Even Vykron, by the look of it. No. Not everyone. A quick glance up told him Sorin was still lounging on his tree branch, swinging his legs into the empty space previously occupied by Talia’s head.
He hurried forward, making sure he stayed abreast of Vantalon so that he wasn’t following him around like a puppy. He lifted his gaze past the members of his group, and soon saw what was causing all the excitement. The dragon.
Well, maybe not the dragon. But certainly a dragon, and a tiny one at that. Lee had been absolutely right; their dragon had babies.
He stopped in his tracks until Vantalon’s continued forward motion blocked his view. Trotting forward like he was a kid on a pretend horse, he soon caught the other man up and accessed his view once again.
It was beautiful. He, she, it. There was no way of knowing from here. In fact, he figured he could probably study the thing in minute detail for a month and still be none the wiser. It didn’t matter. He’d thought it once, but it was worth thinking again; the baby dragon was beautiful. Red, like its mother, but maybe a little darker. Almost maroon. It stood about as tall as a horse on the ledge by the waterfall, wings sticking up in the air like it didn’t quite know what to do with them yet, possibly even using them to keep balance. It had scales, but they looked soft. They might not have been, it might just have been a trick of Ben’s imagination. But he was sure they were soft. Spongy, maybe. No protection whatsoever.
He felt eyes looking at him and sought them out, for some reason expecting them to be Vykron’s. They weren’t, though. Talia looked back to welcome his arrival, lips pulled back over her teeth in a joyful grin of epic proportions. When she saw he’d noticed her, she clapped excitedly without her hands actually making any contact. Her joy dulled his own for a second – how many times had they held each other in bed, talking about what it would be like to finally see a dragon together – but as soon as he broke eye contact with her and returned his incredulous gaze to the baby dragon, it was gone again. Forgotten.
Vantalon stopped dead, and his right arm swung out to catch Ben on the chest.
“There’s another one!” His voice was full of awe. In that moment, Ben knew that everything he’d been through to get to this point had been worth it; the money, the cold, the danger. He’d go through it all again in a heartbeat. So would Talia, and so would Vantalon. He suspected the rest of the group would, also. Except Vykron, of course.
There was no time to waste dark thoughts on the Russian gangster. Vantalon was right, there was indeed another dragon. Smaller than the first, a pony compared to its sibling’s full grown horse, with emerald green scales and a cream belly. Both dragons’ faces were wedge-shaped like their mother’s, with ridges poking from the backs of their heads and following the lines of their spines like a stegosaurus, all the way to the start of the long tails that swished around behind them like dancers with ribbons. The pair of them seemed to have no idea these out of control tails were even theirs; the green snipped at the red’s tail with a mouth that was already full of sharp teeth. In return, the red was fascinated by the tail belonging to the green. As it flicked too close to the red’s mouth, the red caught it deftly and prompted a high-pitched yelp that startled both of them. The red dragon released the green’s tail, and they circled each other in confusion until the green lost its footing on the ledge and slipped into the water with a complete lack of grace. The red cried out in surprise, a pathetic squeal that sounded a bit like a pig’s. Nevertheless, it did the trick. Immediately, mother dragon burst through the curtain of the waterfall from her spot in what was now confirmed as her cave. She was a perfect fit with her wings furled tightly closed. As soon as they were safely through, the wings spread like a paper fan and started beating. Every single member of the group, whether billionaire, gangster or hard-edged soldier, jumped out of their skin. Even Caspillo the Unflappable took half a step back. It was like watching a crocodile surge from a lagoon with unstoppable force, only instead of locking its jaws around its prey and dragging it back underwater, the dragon simply snatched up its flailing young with her claws and deposited it back onto the ledge next to its sibling. Once done, mother dragon screeched her disapproval and disappeared back through the waterfall, folding up her wings as she went. Everyone watched in stunned silence, then jumped again when her snout poked through the curtain of water and nudged her silly green child back a few steps. She snorted, and a puff of grey smoke shot from her nostrils to make doubly sure her displeasure had been noticed and taken heed of. Ben felt wet on his cheeks, and reached up with one hand to work out where it had come from. His eyes, apparently. To make matters worse he realised he was giggling like a child, and he wasn’t the only one. Lee was openly crying, complete with attractive snot bubbles. Talia was wiping her eyes. Vantalon was blinking furiously. Even Caspillo was grinning like an idiot. Jas Toor, though, was far and away the best. She was standing up now, frozen like a statue, and the look on her face was unadulterated love that made Ben’s breath catch in his throat. She shared an affinity with creatures that he couldn’t begin to understand, but could certainly appreciate. He could tell she wanted nothing more than to run off and play with these amazing dragons, and had a sneaking suspicion that, if she did, they’d let her.
Ben sat down in the grass by the edge of the pool, and crossed his legs. This was what he’d spent his money on; a ringside seat to the greatest show he could ever hope to see. Tick dragon watching off the bucket list. He looked around to enjoy the reactions of everyone else. The soldiers looked relaxed, like a weight had been lifted off their collective shoulders. Up in his tree, even Sorin Costache was leaning forward on his branch, feet now perfectly still so as not to lose the moment. It was only then, during this most peaceful of moments, that Ben realised Vykron was gone.
Sixteen
“Caspillo.”
“Shut up.”
“Caspillo.” Ben touched him on the shoulder, and the soldier reluctantly tore his gaze away from the dragon. As soon as he did, the spell was broken and he guessed the situation without
Ben needing to say any more. His pale blue eyes darted left and right, noticed Vykron’s absence, and turned ice cold as the face that framed them hardened in anger. Beneath the soft blonde hair that covered his cheeks in downy stubble, Ben saw his jaw clenching furiously. His first instinct was to yell something to his men, second was to clamp his mouth shut so as not to startle the dragons and get them all killed, and third was to wheel away and beckon those under his command to come to him. They did so immediately, and Ben made sure he drifted as innocuously close to them as he thought he could without being noticed.
“Target is in the wind. He hasn’t passed in front of us, so most likely he’s fallen back to the treeline to open his portal.”
Ben turned and looked behind him, scanning the trees along the side of the valley for any sign of movement. Vantalon was at his side immediately, having noticed the soldiers moving swiftly to circle their leader.
“What’s happening?”
“Hold on,” Ben told him, holding up a finger and trying to concentrate on Caspillo. Ever the intuitive soldier, Vantalon recognised the need to be quiet and did exactly that. Caspillo didn’t speak again, but instead Meryt took up the mantle.
“Remember your orders. Do not engage the enemy. We need that portal open if this mission is to be a success.”
Nobody answered, but each one of the soldiers gave Meryt a terse nod. As it looked like they were about to disperse, Ben grabbed Vantalon’s shoulder and gave him a shove back towards the rest of their group. They both returned their focus to the frolicking dragons until the soldiers had retreated behind them. They waited and waited and then, to be sure, they waited a little bit longer. Then, as one, they turned to watch the soldiers’ backs as they spread apart and headed for different sections of the trees that lined the valley. They’d only been gone five minutes, but already it was impossible to tell which soldier was which.
“What’s happening?” Vantalon repeated.
“Vykron has disappeared.”
The soldier looked around at the remainder of their group, and a look of disappointment etched itself onto his weathered face. A low whistle escaped his lips.
“Shit. How did I not notice that?”
“They’re going to look for him. They called him the enemy, and mentioned not engaging him until he’d opened his portal. The success of their mission depends on it, apparently.”
Vantalon’s brow furrowed at the mention of the word portal. He looked at Ben as if he was doubting what he’d heard.
“Say what, now? Did I just hear you say portal?”
Ben nodded, and followed it up with a shrug.
“No idea what that means, but I’m happy to follow them and find out.”
Vantalon looked at the backs of the soldiers as the closest disappeared into the treeline. Ben followed suit, but couldn’t tell which soldier it was. It was the closest point to the dragon watchers and, bearing in mind Vykron probably wanted to disappear as quickly as possible, seemed the most likely point for the gangster to have headed. In which case, had he been carrying any form of currency whatsoever, Ben would have happily bet the soldier in question was Caspillo himself, leading by example.
“Agreed,” Vantalon decided. “But we stick together at all costs. First sign of any shit heading south, you get your backside behind me and keep that sword in its sheath. Agreed?”
Ben could tell there was no point arguing. He nodded, and they slowly started extricating themselves from the group in much the same way Vykron must have. Once they had crept a safe distance away, they broke into a run for the trees. Without having discussed it, they found themselves aiming for the closest entry point, which is where they assumed the action would be if there was any to be had. As they neared the trees, the ground turned from grass to harder, packed earth. Ben had no idea what kind of trees they were about to disappear into the middle of, but they stretched a hundred metres or so back and then carried on at least halfway up the side of the valley wall. As soon as they set foot inside, the temperature dropped noticeably. They halted and caught their breath, letting their eyes adjust to the new gloom. Ben glanced over to Vantalon, who was winding the mechanism on his crossbow. Instinctively he reached his right hand over his left shoulder and grasped the hilt of his katana. He only just managed to pull it free, grateful it wasn’t an inch longer for fear of his arms not being long enough to allow the tip of the blade to clear the sheath on his back. Vantalon cleared his throat quietly, and a raised eyebrow was all it took to remind Ben of their agreement. His shoulders slumped, and the breath escaped his body in a childish sigh.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Ben bit his tongue on an angry retort, and reluctantly tried to aim the tip of his sword back into its sheath. It was easier said than done, although he wasn’t really trying his hardest in the hope that the soldier would relent and let him keep it out. No backing down was forthcoming, and eventually he was forced to slide the blade home before Vantalon came to the conclusion he was completely useless.
“Happy now?”
The older man ignored him, and headed deeper into the woods with his crossbow held out before him like the assault rifle he was no doubt more used to. Ben followed, feeling vulnerable. The trees folded in on them like a blanket, they lost more light, and the temperature dropped even further. The dragon’s spell didn’t need to reach this far, it would seem. Ahead of him, Vantalon lifted his left arm and showed Ben a balled fist. Ben had watched enough war movies to know exactly what that meant. He stopped dead, barely daring to breathe. They waited in silence, until the former soldier dropped his arm again and returned his hand to the foregrip of his crossbow.
They crept on, and Ben winced every time his foot snapped a twig. He waited for Vantalon to turn and give him the death stare, but it didn’t come. Something tapped him on the shoulder, and he thought he’d brushed against a branch until it happened again, twice this time. He turned, and saw Caspillo walking alongside him.
“Holy…!” The soldier’s hand reached out and clamped down over his mouth, smothering the rest of the outburst. Vantalon spun on his heels, crossbow pointed at Caspillo’s face.
“Not too great at doing as you’re told, are you?” Caspillo was shaking his head, but didn’t look angry. Ben tried to answer, but the other man’s hand was still over his mouth. Recovering his wits, he raised an eyebrow and hoped the action was interpreted as a polite request to let him go. Almost reluctantly, Caspillo obliged. He sighed, wiped Ben’s saliva from his hand onto his chest, and then pointed at the crossbow Vantalon was still pointing at him. “Rhetorical question, kid. No answer required. And Mr. Special Forces, perhaps you can point your weapon in a different direction, please?”
Vantalon dropped the crossbow to his side immediately, but his expression was steely.
“What’s going on here, Caspillo? Seems to me this whole trip is a cover for a bigger operation, and I’m not sure I appreciate being caught up in the middle of it.”
“I’m sure you don’t, but you’re a soldier so I guess you’ll get over it.”
“I’m not a soldier anymore.”
Caspillo waved a hand dismissively, and blew air noisily out of his nostrils in a short, sharp burst.
“Once a soldier, always a soldier.”
“I’m not a soldier,” said Ben, feeling a little forgotten about. Caspillo snorted.
“No shit.”
“Cut the crap, Caspillo.” Vantalon was looking angrier by the second. “Are things going to get violent, and are you going to need my help?”
The Stillwater man beckoned them to follow him back the way they’d come, and they followed his lead.
“Undoubtedly and possibly, sir. Are you up for it?”
“Seems I have no choice.”
“If you’re the kind of man I think you are, then I’d be inclined to agree.”
Ben cleared his throat.
“I’m also available to h…”
“No!” It took a moment or two
for Ben to realise both men had responded in perfect unison. He held up his hands to signal surrender.
“First thing I’m going to do when I get home is buy Stillwater,” he muttered. “Not just a few shares, but the whole damn company. Just so I can fire you, Caspillo.”
Caspillo laughed in genuine amusement, but it only lasted a few seconds before it faded and his expression returned to neutral.
“First thing you’ll do is give me a pay rise,” he said. “Now, are you going to carry on whining like a spoilt little rich boy, or do you want to maybe shut up so I can tell you what’s going on?”
“He’s going to shut up,” said Vantalon, straight away. “Start explaining, Caspillo.”
They were nearing the edge of the woods, and the temperature was starting to rise again. Caspillo didn’t speak again until they broke free of the treeline and emerged back out in to the sun. Over by the waterfall, the dragons were still playing. Without being invited, Ben and Vantalon fell into step next to the Catcher, Ben to his right and Vantalon to his left. Caspillo turned his head and peered past Vantalon, waving and then pointing towards the waterfall. Ben dropped back a step so he could look in the same direction, saw it was one of Caspillo’s soldiers, and lengthened his stride again to catch up. As he did so, Caspillo started to talk.
“This expedition is not what it seems.” He paused to give both of them time to roll their eyes. Before either of them could raise a retort, he continued. “We knew it would be too good an opportunity for Vykron to resist. He’s something of a big game hunter, and the only prize he’s missing on this planet is a big red dragon head.”
