by Jaime Samms
Not having to fight his own nature left his body free to recuperate much faster. He’d not realised how much the need to clamp his will around the errant strands and surges of magical energy had been depleting him. Nesting became more about a desire for a comforting reminder of home than needing the security of a safe roost.
He was contemplating the porch swing with its pile of pillows and blankets, the small stash of books, and the drift of pink feathers beneath it when a prickle of magic lifted the hairs at his nape and along his arms. Like a cool breeze wafting up from the foot of the yard, a wave of magical energy buffeted his senses, and he frowned.
“Emile?” Sunny’s voice quavered slightly. A tool clanked, and Emile turned to see Sunny with a shovel held in two hands and cocked over his shoulder. “Emile? You know this guy?”
Emile followed Sunny’s gaze to the footbridge. The wood creaked under the weight of a creature that most definitely did not belong on this side of the Fold.
“So there you are,” Emile whispered to it. “I wondered where you ran off to.”
Dark fog and ash puffed up around the creature’s feet as it shuffled a few steps closer. Its tail, a brilliant shade of turquoise that faded to deep pine forest green by the time it reached its rump, swished back and forth. Like a cat’s, that tail gave away the mood of the creature with every twitch. It was nervous. Curious. Uncertain.
An uncertain salamander was not a thing to be trifled with.
Emile held out a hand, arm straight and strong, palm out, fingers splayed and pointing skyward. If the salamander had any training at all, it would know the gesture—and the accompanying push of magic flux—was a command to stay. If it was feral, the gesture was one of strength and command it would understand through instinct, and one it would—possibly—respect. Plus, the flux would appeal to it like a treat would to a dog.
Hopefully.
Emile walked slowly but steadily down the stairs and across the lawn. “Stay where you are, please, Sunny. And lower your shovel. It’s not a threat.” I hope. The animal’s cautious but still posture was encouraging, but no guarantee.
Sunny grunted, shifted his feet, but only rested the shaft of the shovel on his shoulder. The blade remained up, his grip tight, ready to swing. Perhaps not a terrible idea, under the circumstances.
“It?” Sunny asked. “You don’t know who—I mean—it’s an it?”
“This is a salamander.”
“So not a dragon?”
Emile chuckled. “No more a dragon than an ape is a man.”
“He doesn’t look like any salamander I’ve ever seen.”
“Larger, perhaps,” Emile agreed, remembering something about the differences in what his people called salamanders and what humans referred to as such.
Sunny snorted. “Just a bit, yeah. Also, he’s got scales.”
“How else would they defend themselves? They don’t have tooth or claw. An impenetrable hide seems only practical. They are also rather intelligent, and social, if reared properly. Vicious and dangerous if handled with cruelty. A feral salamander is unpredictable but will usually leave you alone if you don’t provoke it.”
“How does one provoke a salamander?”
“Oh. Threatening or quick motions. Acting aggressive.” He glanced at Sunny. “Like any wild thing. Would you poke a bear?”
“Of course not.”
“Think of him as a… scaly… bear.”
“A blue-and-green bear.”
“Partially, yes. Also, he’s magical.”
“And has spikes on his tail.”
Emile peered around the animal, squinting to see through the ash and smoke. There were indeed spikes on the creature’s tail, easily three or four inches long, and wickedly pointed. Interesting adaptation, in general, only seen in populations that needed to protect themselves. So not one bred to domestic uses, or the spikes—if he ever grew them at all—would have been filed down for the safety of his handlers. Still, he remained preternaturally still as Emile approached him, head tilted, watching him. So neither was he feral.
“Where did you come from, little one?” he wondered aloud.
“Um. Maybe the same place you did?” Sunny offered.
“Well. Yes. But that’s a big place. He didn’t just wander across the Fold all by himself.”
“Why not?”
“Salamanders are by far the most sensitive to magical disruptions of any creature we know. The Fold would make them… uncomfortable. One wouldn’t cross it unless forced to.”
“What’s with all the smoke?”
“It’s a byproduct. They absorb what we call magic flux. Something of a raw energy with magical properties, but not in a form than can be used to fuel, say, a dragon’s shift.”
“How do they absorb it? I mean, our salamanders breathe through their skin, but yours has those impenetrable scales you mentioned.”
“Right now they are impenetrable, yes. He’s got them locked because he’s nervous.” Emile grinned, showing sharp teeth. “You should see them if he feels threatened.”
“Um.” Sunny shifted his feet. “No, thank you.”
“They are utterly beautiful.”
“Deadly, too, I’d imagine.”
“Quite. At rest, their form is much more skin than scale, although their shape changes very little.”
“Does everything in your world have more than one form?”
Emile considered that. “I suppose… very nearly, yes. The more intelligently one can manipulate magic, the more varied the forms one can take. Generally speaking.”
“You must think things very dull here, then.”
“On the contrary.” He stopped about ten feet from the salamander, who shuffled, curled its tail around its feet, and sat on its haunches. “I would think that if one were confined to a single form, one might have to rely on a different kind of genius to get things done. There, now.” He lowered his arm and cocked his head at the creature. “You really aren’t feeling well, are you?”
The salamander watched him, the tip of its tail flicking up at irregular intervals.
“How can you tell?”
“The smoke. Salamanders are magical constructs.”
“O-kay.” Sunny frowned, clearly not understanding.
“Made from flux and the element of whatever creature brought it into being. So a water sprite’s salamander would be born of water and would release steam or ice along with the refined magic. One created by a brownie would be born of stone and would leave a trail of soil in its wake.” Emile lowered his arm, took a few steps, and made a curling motion with his hand. “This one seems to be a wood salamander, created by a dryad.”
“So, smoke and ash.”
“Yes. But.” He frowned. “I think it’s sick. Or weak. Because the smoke should not be so black. The ash is crumbly and dry, more like coals than powdery grey ash. There’s something wrong with it.”
“Maybe the lack of magic?” Sunny suggested. “If it needs to ingest magic to exist, then there’s an issue. No magic here.”
“Oh, Sunny.” Emile smiled. “How wrong you are. No. I don’t think it is a lack of magic so much as the wrong kind of magic. Like someone fed it something that isn’t agreeing with it.” He curled his fingers again, and the salamander made a strange mewling sound, then lowered its long neck and crouched on all fours, head low to the ground.
“Well now you’re just being stubborn.” He made the curling gesture one more time, and with a sigh, the salamander lay down.
“It understands you?”
“After a fashion. I worked with them as a youngster. They seemed to like me. Other handlers treat them like animals in the manner a human might train a dog, training with treats and simple commands. I just talked to them. Told them what I wanted, coaxed them a bit, and eventually they listened. They really are smart. And they respond very well if you know how to use the magic flux to show them what you want. Something like how Fernforest tells me things, but not so primitive. He is a dog, after a
ll, so his command of the flux and his understanding of the world are rather simple.”
“What?” Sunny blinked and shook his head. “Wait. Okay, we’re going to come back to the whole talking to the dog thing, because. Well. Because who knew that was a thing. Right now, though, there’s a giant gecko in my yard, it’s smoking, and I think also singeing my bridge.” Sunny scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he eased the shovel to the ground. “I don’t even know what I just said. It shouldn’t make any sense at all.”
Emile chuckled. “That is quite the beauty of magic, isn’t it?”
AS SUNNY observed, Emile moved slowly closer to the crouching salamander. It watched him curiously, its tail swishing every now and then, its head on a slight tilt. It was interesting that while Sunny had no experience with anything like this and very little experience with animals, he could tell just by looking that the salamander wasn’t well.
Its scales didn’t glow, for one thing. He’d noticed that Emile’s scales shimmered in sunlight, a rosy mother-of-pearl look that oddly suited his translucent skin. Yeah, focus. There’s a giant lizard on your doorstep, Sunny. This lizard’s scales were dull, the colours muted, and some around his nose and mouth were dry and flaking. Its sides heaved every now and then, and like Emile’s when Sunny had first found him, this animal’s bones seemed more prominent than was strictly healthy.
“What do we do with it?” he asked after a few minutes.
Emile glanced over his shoulder. “We?”
“Well.” Sunny shrugged and stuffed a hand into his pocket. “It’s here now. You said it won’t cross the Fold or whatever on its own. So it can’t get home, right?”
“Not by himself.”
“Him. Okay.” Sunny took a few steps, trying not to appear as tentative as he felt. Animals responded to confidence, didn’t they? So confident, but not aggressive. How hard could it be? “And he’s a tree salamander.” Because that was obvious. Sunny shook himself. He’d seen the tail and feathers and scales. He knew Emile was a dragon. But the longer Emile walked around his house looking perfectly human, the more Sunny could ignore what he knew. This, though. It really did look like a giant gecko. And it was right there on his lawn. He was seized by the need to touch it. That would make it real.
“Sunny?” Emile held out a hand toward him much as he had toward the salamander. A bubble of resistance hit Sunny’s chest, and he slowed his advance. “Please stay back, Sunny.”
Sunny brushed at his chest. “Are you doing something to me?” He batted thin air, frowning. “Stop it.”
“I need you to stay back.”
“And I need to touch him.”
“He might lash out.”
“He won’t.” Sunny took another step. “If you’re magicking me, you need to stop.” He slapped Emile’s hand out of the air. “I don’t have magic, you can’t use it on me. It’s not fair.”
“What?” Emile blinked at him. “Of course you have magic.”
“You know”—Sunny lifted a hand and let it fall—“every time you open your mouth, you say another thing I don’t understand. It’s not helping.”
“Television,” Emile muttered. “Cell phones. Vacuum cleaners, for goodness sake.”
“I’ll let you use my vacuum if you let me pet your salamander.”
“He’s not my salamander.” Emile’s brows drew together, but he did drop his arm. “I’m sorry about the magic. It was instinct.”
“It’s fine. So was the vacuum cleaner.”
“Instinctual vacuum-cleanering?” Emile asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone.
Sunny shrugged. “Something like that.” He stopped one step in front of Emile. He had all of the animal’s attention now. “And at this point, this guy is more yours than anyone else’s.”
“We don’t own them, Sunny. Any more than you own Fernforest. You feed him, shelter him, love him, and he keeps your heart and your secrets. It’s what dogs do.”
“And what is it salamanders do?” Sunny might have challenged Emile’s statement about Ferny not being his dog, but when he thought about it as Emile explained it, he couldn’t argue.
“On a purely practical level, salamanders process magic flux into usable magical energy. The flux fuels them, and the energy we use to shift between forms and all the other magic we do is a byproduct.”
“Like trees process carbon dioxide and pump out oxygen?”
“Very much like that. Magic flux can be toxic in large concentrations. As a source of energy to fuel our abilities, it’s all but useless. Salamanders keep things balanced. They can also pull carts, protect sheep, and carry heavy loads. They are naturally very warm—good for nurseries, to keep it and the hatchlings warm.” He moved closer to the salamander next to Sunny, lowering his voice as he did. “They can be quite beautiful. Many Houses once maintained them as decoration, chained or caged, floundering under the weight of jewels that kept them slow and pinned down. It gave the Houses a ready source of magic to fuel their lives.”
“Sounds like slavery,” Sunny muttered. His insides twisted at the thought of this lovely, lithe creature tied down in any way. He could feel the salamander’s heat now, as he came to within arm’s reach. It radiated off him in short, pulsing waves, and with it came a tingling sensation that rippled under Sunny’s skin and reminded him of what he felt when Emile touched him.
“I imagine they would say the same, given the chance,” Emile said darkly. “You’re getting quite close, Sunny.” His fingers clenched and unclenched as he watched like he wanted to reach out and pull Sunny back, but he didn’t.
“I can’t touch him if I don’t get close, can I, Blue… no.” He wasn’t blue exactly. More greenish, but with undertones that reminded Sunny of the night sky right after the sun had disappeared and darkness and stars took over. “Nightshine,” he said softly, holding out a hand not with his palm out, but with it up, offering his attention cupped in his hand.
The salamander stretched out his neck, nose twitching, body language perking up as if responding to the idea of a name.
“We don’t name them, Sunny.”
“Maybe you should.”
“I’m sure they have names somewhere in their being. How are we to know what they are?”
“You said you can talk to my dog, and he’s not a magical being. What’s his name if it isn’t Fernforest?”
Emile grunted. “Interestingly, Fernforest is his name. Or as near an approximation as human language is going to get.”
Sunny took the last step right into the tooth range of the enormous animal and touched the tips of his fingers to his chin. Sparks flew—literal sparks, showering off his fingertips and bouncing off the salamander’s scales. They lit up the thumbnail-sized plates of twilight purple, which were surprisingly soft around his lips, in the places they hadn’t dried and flaked.
A glimmer sparked deep in the creature’s dark, pine-hued eyes, and Sunny grinned. “Glimmerleaf,” he said, and a wet, warm tongue swirled out to taste his fingers. “Glimmerleaf Nightshine.”
The salamander moved forward, rubbing his head against Sunny’s chest. Then he lay down, curling body, neck, and tail around Sunny’s feet. Well, more accurately, around his feet, shins, and knees, nearly up to his hips.
“He seems to like you.” Emile’s voice, with an undertone of surprise, ignited a warm glow in Sunny’s chest. It was something to surprise a dragon, after all. As Sunny shifted and eased a slight bit of his weight against the warm scales surrounding him, Emile observed Glimmerleaf, pleased surprise on his face.
“I seem to have that effect on magical creatures.” Sunny met Emile’s gaze, and his doubts fell away. Sure, he had been shocked to find out Emile’s secret. But in the end, he was still Emile, still the guy Sunny had come to know and want. The guy he was… falling for. Admit it, Sunny. You’re falling for the guy.
For the dragon. Which he could still hardly believe. But why shouldn’t he? After all, he had a smoking lizard curled around him, wrapping
him to midthigh, radiating heat that was barely tolerable and, he was pretty sure, purring.
He had nightshade crawling along his bridge faster than any normal plant had a right to do. And he hadn’t missed the way his garden was thriving out of all proportion to what the weather should be supporting at this time of year. He wanted to believe it was the application of all the research his parents had done over the years, along with a healthy dose of horse manure, but in his gut, he knew there was more to it.
He glanced at Emile, who met his gaze with something like admiration. Admiration from a dragon. Now wasn’t that something?
Chapter 24
“HOW LONG do you think this is going to take?” Sunny whispered nearly half an hour later. He was staring at his dog, who stared back from about six feet away, a slightly accusing expression on his face. “Don’t be like that, Ferny.” Sunny wiggled his fingers in Fernforest’s direction, but the dog only settled down to his elbows and lowered his chin to his paws. He didn’t come any closer. “I still love you, you know.”
Fernforest huffed.
“He’s fine.” Emile brought his attention from dog to salamander. “As for him, well. They can sleep for days.”
“Days?” Sunny mouthed. He widened his eyes, which only made Emile laugh. The happy sound went a long way to easing the tension that had been growing between them.
“In this case, I expect he won’t stay down long. He’s restless.” Emile pointed to the twitching tip of the salamander’s tail. “Also, see how his front legs are clenching?”
“Like he’s trying to grab something.”
“And his scales haven’t unlocked. He’s dreaming. Normally that happens as they are waking. Be still. We don’t want him startled as he surfaces.”
“Do they bite?”
“A flare of magic would be more dangerous. He could expel a blast of energy or suck in a large quantity of flux. Either could kill you if it’s big enough.”
