Dragon's Wish

by Elizabeth Rain

  They all turned to stare at the other prisoner that had escaped with them. Fergus, Finn and Aidan paused. This was when they were supposed to change and grab Elspeth and whisk her to safety. They hadn’t counted on an audience. “As we said, you can’t come with us where we are going.” Aidan reminded him, removing his shirt and unbuckling his trousers to store them in the small pouch that he would hang about his neck in flight.

  “He doesn’t need our help, do you... wolf?” Duncan spoke up, storing his own clothes as he spoke.

  A gleam of white fangs flashed sharply in the dark. “No. What I aim to do is get as far away as possible from the insanity in this town.” Even as he spoke they watched his jawline shift and elongate. The audible crack of joint and bone was nothing less than the spread of his shifting metamorphosis from human to wolf.

  Duncan shifted into his dragon at the same time.

  I LOOKED AWAY TO AFFORD them brief privacy. The transformation took a matter of seconds. Looking back, I was in time to see the swish of a tail as the wolf disappeared into the inky blackness of the forest trails, towards the high country and safety. Standing before me were my three brothers and Da, four magnificent dragons waiting to carry me home to Mama where she waited and worried about us all.

  Finn was dark, like Da, though not as large. He would be—when he finished growing into the strapping young man he would be. Largest of the three brothers, Aidan was magnificent in a shimmery scaled coat of pearl gray, wings ghostly in the dark. Fergus was smaller and bronze. I looked at the scales that had popped free along the back of my hands and arms. I would be that pretty brown, if I lived to see my change in less than a year.

  Heavy wings moved and beat the air, creating a massive updraft. A gleaming golden eye blinked at me, vertical slit impatient. With as nimble a leap as possible in cumbersome skirts, I leapt onto his broad back, tucking my knees in behind his wings. And then we were lifting into the air to the sound of beating leathered wings. Low at first, gaining enough altitude to brush the treetops, hoping to avoid unwelcome eyes. Airborne, we turned together and flew towards the high country and home where Moira waited and worried.

  At the corner of the woods, less than fifty yards from where we had transformed, a figure stood blinking with eyes wide as any owls. Blasphemy is what it was. The Devil had sprouted scales and wings to fly down to hell. He had to warn the others before it was too late. Legs trembling, the dark figure ran as fast as he could towards town.

  HEAVY POUNDING PULLED Johnathon Corbin from a sound sleep and he sat up with a jerk. Irritation flared as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and they contacted the icy floor. Beside him his wife snored softly, oblivious. All that racket and he wasn’t going to get back to sleep soon.

  The knocking didn’t abate as he threw on clothes. “I’m coming. Hold on a minute will you before you wake the entire household.”

  He closed the bedroom door behind him and moved to the front door as more pounding ensued. Whoever was on the other side was persistent, he could say that for them.

  Johnathon Corbin swung the door open and stared at the apparition on his front doorstep, swaying back and forth as if a stiff breeze would make light work of him and blow him clean away. He scowled, opening his mouth to blast Joseph White, the town drunkard and all around waste of breath if you asked him, with the full force of his ire.

  He wasn’t quick enough.

  “They was flying Mr. Corbin. Through the air the dragons was. All four of them flying through the woods.”

  Johnathon blinked in confusion. He wasn’t making any sense. “Flying. What are you talking about? What was flying?”

  “Why the dragons was with their scaly hides and leathery wings. And they had big teeth they did, too...”

  Johnathon let loose with a blast of irritated air. The man was off his ever loving rocker. He wondered what rot gut he’d gotten into. Whatever it was, he had half a mind to arrest him on the spot, all of several charges he could hit him with springing to mind.

  Joseph’s next words made him hesitate, a tingle of unease scratching at his spine.

  “They had the girl with them. That girl what’s been keeping time with the devil. Don’t know how she got out. Twas magic; that voodoo magic, I’m sure of it. They lifted her clean up in the air and flew right off with her.”

  “Girl. You mean Elspeth Walsh? She’s in jail...” he started. He’d scarce uttered the words when three of his deputies, including Harold, the same young man he knew was guarding the jail and the prisoners overnight, showed up. Harold clutched his head and moved awkwardly, the others helping to support him. He looked closer and realized a trickle of red was oozing between his fingers.

  He gave up on any chance of a good night’s sleep. “What happened to you Harold? Why aren’t you at the jail tending the prisoners?”

  Mark Web, his second in command, spoke up for him, shaking his head. “Gone sir. Found Harold on the side of the building out cold. When we looked inside both the girl and that man were gone. Only that old homeless woman there, going on to herself and mumbling some strange incantation. The Cell doors were standing wide open.”

  Johnathon’s eyes narrowed on Harold once more. His harsh tone did more to focus the weaving man than anything else could. “Harold. Explain. The short and to the point version, please,” he ground out.

  Harold focused on the enraged man standing in front of him and his lower lip trembled. He’d really needed this job, too. “Someone came bangin’ at the door. When I answered, some drunk’s standing there and say someone is around by that one witches winder’ trying to get in. I had me gun, went to investigate. Something hit my noggin...” his voice dwindled to a whisper, as Johnathon Corbin stared at him like he was something he’d scraped off the bottom of his boot heel.

  A sound behind him caught his attention and he turned to find his son, James, standing in shock behind him. He scowled. And great, now his family was involved. “Go back to bed. This doesn’t concern you.” He thundered. James’ eyes widened as he turned around and did just that. But he’d heard enough. Elspeth had escaped.

  Johnathon eyed the small group of men. “Okay, listen and I want you to listen good. We’ve got two prisoners, convicted witches no less, free and on the loose. According to Joseph here, their familiars were in the woods waiting for them and transformed into some winged beast.” He hesitated to call them dragons, not sure he was willing to give Joseph that much credit in his booze induced euphoria. Still, he couldn’t afford to dismiss what he said outright. He’d seen something that had rattled his brains, that was clear enough. “I need you all to round up every able-bodied man under forty with a gun and meet me on the North end of town in thirty minutes armed and ready. I’m fixing to deputize every one that shows. We have some witches to hunt down and hang.

  AIDAN’S FEET HAD SCARCE touched down when I was up and running, flinging myself into Mama’s soft arms with a sob. We stood shaking, clutching at each other as the terror of the last few days washed through us.

  “Oh Mama, I thought I was going to die and never see you, any of you, again.” Moira clasped me to her, my face in her hands, her cheeks wet, fingers trembling. “Elspeth, baby girl, thank God you—all of you—are all right.”

  Momma stepped back; eyes hard. “We can spend more time later on the reunion. I’ve been packing what’s most important that I think we can carry. Stock can be replaced and I opened all the gates and set them free. We’re ready to go. Just a few more things I need to bring up from the cellar for the trip.” Her eyes moved to her husband’s. He moved in and lay a rough hand along the side of her cheek. “We have everything we need as long as we remain together. I sent Fin and Fergus ahead to warn the Murphy’s, O’Neill’s, and the Byrne’s. They will warn the rest and meet up with us near Dugan’s Crossing. We’ll go together from there. After tonight, it won’t be safe for a Dragon anywhere near Salem.

  Over the back of my shoulder I shouted as I moved towards the cabin at a run. “I have to
grab a couple things; I’ll be right back.” The door exploded backwards under the brunt of my arm, slamming against the wall as I grabbed the bottom rung to the loft and climbed. There wasn’t much I considered irreplaceable, but my grandmother’s book of herbology was shoved hastily inside a small hand held satchel along with a ring my mother had given me and the doll she’d stitched when I was four. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the shouts and screams from the front yard. And dogs. Coming further on from a distance.

  “Elspeth?” I heard the desperate shout of my brother and I sprinted for the front door. We were out of time.

  I crossed the door’s threshold to find my father and brother’s already well into their change, scaled hides rippling and leathered wings swinging wide. Da’s bright blue eyes caught mine and held as his dragon lifted into the air in a whirl of dust and wind. On his back, clinging like a monkey, was Moira, eyes frantic and wide as she gripped to her husband’s neck, legs tucked tight behind his shoulders.

  “Hurry Elspeth, there’s no more time.” She shouted as the distance between them and the ground grew.

  Muscles bunching beneath me, I sprinted for Aidan, still on the ground and waiting. He snorted, nostrils flaring in fear. In the distance, the townspeople of Salem were emerging from the woods in a mob at least fifty strong, muskets spitting gun smoke and compact round balls of lead. Several whistled over my head. I winced, a ribbon of fire burning a furrow along the side of my neck, as I leapt to his back, screaming at him to go before I was fully secure. He needed no second reminder. We were airborne before I was set, my clawed fingers making him grunt as they dug deep into the sides of his scaled neck. The trickle of wetness sliding down my neck told me I’d had a near miss.

  A dragon was a mighty beast, and the effort it took to take flight was great. I knew the moment one of the lead balls found its mark beneath the scales of Aidan’s thick hide and he jerked sideways. But he never slowed and we gained the sky, his powerful wings sending us higher with every powerful stroke. I glanced over and met my mother’s eyes. Moira clung to her husband’s back; the glittering blue of her eyes frantic. She tried to smile reassuringly at me. We were nearly out of range when she gave a jerk and gasped, her eyes clouding as a shudder moved through her. But her soft smile on me never wavered. Duncan’s massive body stuttered and he dropped several feet through the sky before catching himself. Several wet patches decorated his hide and I knew he hadn’t escaped the musket’s aim. But he never faltered as we made for the river crossing where my brother’s waited.

  We continued to rise higher until we could use the cover of night and the fringe of clouds to conceal our presence. Below us, flashes of light and heavy smoke made us cringe. The mountain was alive with death as other dragon families fought to escape with their lives. Dugan’s crossing was well beyond the worst of it though, and by the time we neared where we were supposed to meet, Aidan and Duncan were able to break the clouds cover and glide in for a safe landing.

  Moira slid from Da’s back and took a seat beneath the canopy of a nearby cottonwood tree. She wasn’t used to flying and holding on for dear life had taxed her stamina to its limits. I dismounted as well, as Aidan and my father changed. Holding their dragon for any length of time was exhausting.

  Duncan looked around the clearing. Maybe a dozen men, women, and children gathered there, most looking anxious, eyes peeled to the skies for any late joiners. He moved gingerly, sore from the nicks and superficial wounds that, though not lethal, had sapped his strength. Aidan had suffered much the same.

  “Where are the others? Did no one else make it out?” He growled.

  Douglas O’Neill spoke up. “We think the Kelly’s made it. The O’Sullivan’s lost a couple, but I think the rest of them are coming. I don’t think any of the Byrne’s made it. Not sure what that brings the number up to. We’re still waiting.

  Duncan glanced at his wife, leaning back against the tree and fast asleep, and frowned. “We can give it a couple of hours. There’s no way they can make it this far overnight so we can afford the wait. But I’d like to put a few more hours behind us before dawn hits. We need to be tucked in and out of sight somewhere else.

  I sat with my brothers next to Mama, cuddled next to her and sharing body heat. I’d had the forethought to tuck a single blanket in my satchel and I used that now to cover us both. Mama shivered and gave a moan in her sleep. I found my father’s glittery eyes in the dark and I knew the direction of his thoughts.

  DUNCAN STOOD OVER HIS family, eyes on the inky blackness of the darkened wood. Through the next couple of hours he never sat, his attention unwavering as he waited, his eyes frantic with worry. Not a one of us knew where we were going or what lay ahead. By early morning, the numbers had grown to twenty-three survivors that had made the trip and found sanctuary in our small group. Fifteen men, women, and children had given their lives to the fanatical lunacy perpetuated by the misconstrued beliefs of the cult like Puritans. Fergus and Finn had arrived in the late hours of the night, after the reports of gunfire had long faded. Their eyes were haunted and they refused to speak of what they’d seen.

  Duncan’s eyes narrowed on his wife as she slept. His children remained awake, their glittery eyes belying their heritage as they looked up at him, confident in his leadership to see them safe. They all depended on him to guide them when others faltered. But he was just a man, as scared and ill prepared as the rest of them.

  He cleared his throat, pushing away from the tree where his family huddled, standing with legs spread wide and fists clenched at his sides. He looked at the night sky and judged they had maybe four hours before the first fingers of dawn made its presence known over the curve of the horizon. “We need to get going. We can’t afford to wait any longer.” The wails of those whose family members were unaccounted for rose in a crescendo of grief that tore at his resolve to do right by those that depended on him for leadership.

  He hardened his heart because it was necessary; Ignoring the cries of pain and grief. Staring at the too pale curve of his sleeping wife’s cheek, he knew a knowledge that nearly brought him to his knees. But because they were all his responsibility, he would not fail them in their hour of need.

  His arms spread wide, he called his dragon, welcoming the burn of the familiar pain that washed over him amid cracking bones, twisting sinew, and newly formed joints. The heat of his Dragon’s eyes moved over his sleeping wife, his Moira, and what lived inside him roared.

  WE FLEW BY NIGHT AND hid by day, making use of the Valleys and Canyons. Heavy forests were a refuge too. It was early years in the United States of America and Europeans hadn’t settled the interior states yet. The Natives were there, and if they caught glances of our great winged beasts cutting through the light of the moon, they were simply fodder for later legends and tales told by the campfire to children eager for such fantastic stories.

  We left one coast and headed for the other, winging over three thousand miles in a space of days. The last night we landed in what would later—much later—be named part of the Weminuche Wilderness Preserve, in a small valley tucked away at the base of Greylock Mountain in the as yet unnamed state of Colorado.

  It shouldn’t have been our ultimate stop. We had planned to continue on that night to the sea where we would make our home. But sometimes fate has a way of changing the course of things.

  I wonder if Da knew even before we landed that we’d reached the end. By the time we landed, dawn was breaking the far horizon in a blazing blend of oranges and golds.

  Purple highlights reflected the depths of Moira’s eyes as Duncan changed and caught his wife as she listed sideways. She thought to apologize for the delay. I’d never seen Da so angry before. He cradled her on the North end of that valley, at the base of a lone cottonwood tree that had not yet reached full maturity.

  “Why Moira? Maybe something could have been done.” Until we landed, her kind words and gentle hands had been for us, her children. But now we stood in the background, helple
ss and unimportant. Her love was for her husband now. It might have been just the two of them for all the mind they paid any of the rest of us. I committed the whispered words to memory.

  “You needed the time—all of you did. I would have just slowed you down. I did what I had to, same as you.” One arm cradled her close, the other hand ran along her side, coming away sticky and wet. I wondered how we could have missed the unnatural pallor of Mama’s skin as she slowly bled to death on the inside. The bullet had hit low, grazing enough organs to start the process before burying itself low in her abdomen. She’d hidden it from us to buy us the time we needed to get away. I couldn’t imagine the strength it must have taken her to hold on this long.

  “Moira, my heart,” he whispered, voice broken and weak. “How do I go on when the best half of me is gone?”

  A wisp of a laugh. “You finish what we started, darling. You raise our children and make a home here. This is the right place for you to start anew. Rebuild, and in time, love our Grandchildren and don’t let them forget where they came from or what they are, inside.”

  “I don’t want to do it, any of it, without you,” he protested, the words a bare whisper we strained to hear and wished we hadn’t. Our hearts were falling apart too. I clutched at my brothers, and they me, that day.

  “Husband mine, I wish we had more time. But we don’t always get what we want and sometimes God has reasons he doesn’t share with us.” Her eyes were fading, catching those of her children as she looked around at her surroundings. She didn’t look to be in any pain and for that we were grateful, but we could feel the force of her life fading. One last time she turned back to her husband, clutching his hand with sudden strength, melding their hearts together as she squeezed. “Bury me here. This cottonwood tree is a fine resting place over which I can watch the valley and see our children’s children run and grow. Promise me.” Duncan couldn’t answer. Cheeks damp and eyes blazing with grief, he gave a terse nod, holding his cheek to hers. They clung like that for a brief matter of seconds and then she was gone.