Royal Rescue

by A. Alex Logan

  The dragon itself, Gerald had learned, had a rather camel-like ability to store its own water. It would not need to drink nearly as often as Gerald would. “I’ve often thought you humans were rather thoughtlessly designed,” the dragon sniffed when Gerald marveled at its newly-revealed ability. But it gave him a wink so he would know it was teasing. Ever since Gerald’s temper had exploded, it had been treating him rather delicately, seemingly intent on avoiding another outburst.

  WHEN THE SUN dawned bright and hot, everything was packed and ready to go. After a quick breakfast for the both of them, the dragon lifted Gerald down to the sand—which was already hot enough for him to feel through the soles of his boots—and Gerald began to wrestle the harness onto the dragon. Gerald carried a small knapsack with a water pouch, a few snacks, the map, Erick’s two-way parchment, and the Who’s Who pages—which, he had noted, were not affected by the dissolution of the tracking spells, as there was still a page for Gerald, Erick, Kinda, Lukas, and all the rest. He had also fastened a compass around his wrist like a bracelet, even though the dragon swore it had an internal compass that never went awry.

  Finally Gerald declared everything secured, and the dragon reared up on its haunches and gave a fearsome shake. When nothing fell out and no ties slipped, Gerald and the dragon exchanged triumphant smiles.

  The dragon settled back down and said, “Well? Climb on, then. Let’s go!”

  Gerald needed no further urging to scramble up the dragon’s side, using the harness ropes to haul himself up the slick scales. Gerald settled in between the dragon’s shoulder blades, just ahead of its wings, and tied himself to the loop of the harness in front of him.

  “All secure?” the dragon asked, craning its head around to take a look.

  “All secure!” Gerald echoed.

  “Then let’s go!” the dragon cried, and it reared back on its haunches as it prepared to spring into the air. And then it stopped abruptly. “What’s that?” it hissed.

  That was a young man stumbling toward them across the burning sand. He was on foot, unlike Princess Kinda the day before, and Gerald briefly wondered how he had even made it so far into the desert without a horse or camel or other mount. But he didn’t have time to consider it for long because the young man stumbled coming down a dune. He fell to his knees and collapsed prone into the sand, and he didn’t get back up.

  “Let me down!” Gerald called urgently to the dragon. “We have to help him.”

  “We have to get out of here,” it countered.

  “If we leave him there, he’ll die!”

  “That’s not certain.”

  “If we leave him there, and he lives, he’ll tell everyone about our escape,” Gerald pointed out.

  The dragon huffed out a resigned breath. “Fine, fine. But I won’t let him delay us. We’re not staying to tend to him. You can either bring him along or leave him where he lies.”

  “Bring him along,” Gerald said immediately, and the dragon dropped back to all fours reluctantly.

  “This is a mistake,” it warned as Gerald untied himself and dropped to the ground. He ran to the young man and knelt next to him, wincing at the heat of the sand burning through his trousers.

  The young man was flushed, but whether from the sun or a fever Gerald couldn’t say. He had a small carry sack with him, but no water pouch was in evidence. Gerald uncorked his own and splashed water on the youth’s face. He sputtered and opened his eyes, but only stared blankly at Gerald when he tried to ask what had happened to him.

  “Can you stand?” Gerald asked, holding out a hand to pull him to his feet. The young man blinked several times and then clasped Gerald’s hand in his. Gerald bit back an exclamation—his skin was burning, as hot as the sand—and levered him up.

  “Come on.” Gerald tugged the youth’s arm across his shoulders and headed back toward the dragon, half carrying, half dragging the fevered young man.

  The dragon lowered his head to peer at them when they returned. “Why, he has the look of the desert dwellers,” it said in surprise. “How did he end up here, sun-fevered?”

  “I haven’t the faintest,” Gerald said irritably. “But he’s burning up. Lift me back into the tower, will you?”

  “We’re not delaying,” the dragon warned.

  “We’re not letting him die, either,” Gerald snapped. “It’ll be less of a delay for me to get willow bark from the kitchen than to untie the netting and dig it out of the supplies. That fever has to come down.”

  The young man was still slumped against Gerald, and he lowered him gently to the ground in the shadiest spot he could find, before turning back to glare at the dragon. “Are you going to help or what?”

  Without a word, it lifted Gerald up to the window and he returned in record time with an ample supply of willow bark, both fresh and dried, and a freshly-filled water pouch with shreds of bark steeping inside.

  He dribbled some of the willow bark water down the semiconscious man’s throat and then the dragon helped him haul the invalid up onto its back.

  Gerald settled the young man in front of him and tied them both to the dragon’s harness. He tied the waxed canvas sheet around them as a sunshade and then, once he was satisfied everything was in place, said, “All right, let’s go,” to the dragon.

  It reared up and launched itself quickly, before another delay could manifest. Gerald yelped as they left the ground, and he clutched at the harness, fighting back the sensation he was about to fall off the dragon’s back. He swallowed rapidly, trying to force his stomach back down his throat to its more customary spot, and he breathed out a sigh of relief when the dragon’s near-vertical angle leveled out toward the horizontal as it reached a cruising altitude.

  When his stomach and his nerves settled, Gerald cautiously peered out from under the sunshade and yelped again when he saw how high they were. The tower was already dwindling from view, turning into an ever-smaller and more distant blotch behind them.

  He hastily ducked back under the canvas, having decided he was really happier not knowing quite how far away the ground was, thank you. The takeoff hadn’t wakened their passenger at all; he was still slumped semiconscious against Gerald.

  Gerald took the opportunity to examine him carefully, as he hadn’t yet done in the rush to get water and willow bark into him and then get him on the dragon for their escape. He had, as the dragon had said, the look of the desert on him. His skin was nearly the same shade as Gerald’s, but with different undertones, cool shadows instead of Gerald’s own warmer, russet tones. His hair was dark and cropped short, but not short enough to hide its curl. He was wearing desert garb, loose, lightweight trousers and tunic, but he had no head covering, no hat or burnoose.

  “No wonder you got sun fever,” Gerald murmured. There was no response from the young man, whose eyes were closed, his face still flushed. Gerald wasn’t sure how much of the pink tinting his cheeks was due to fever and how much to sunburn, but the youth’s dazed state made it very clear he was still ailing.

  Gerald drizzled more willow bark water into his mouth or tried to. The dragon was flying very smoothly now and hardly jostled the passengers at all, but even so at least half the water Gerald tried to get down the youth’s throat ended up spilling onto his tunic.

  Gerald slipped the water pouch back into his knapsack and wished for a cloth he could soak and lay across his patient’s forehead. If he couldn’t get the willow bark into him, he would have to treat the fever as best he could by external means.

  Gerald considered wrestling the young man’s tunic off and soaking it with water, but the garment was long and unwieldy, and the youth was about as much help as a dressmaker’s dummy. He gave it up for a bad job and considered his other options.

  Gerald glanced up at the canvas canopy above and around them and sighed. “Well, I’m not going to get sunburned, at least,” he muttered to himself, and he pulled his shirt over his head. It was a simple short-sleeve shirt, without buttons or ties, and it was a matte
r of seconds to drench it in water from the pouch and lay it across the young man’s forehead. He splashed what was left of the water over the young man’s tunic. Even in the shade, and even with the dragon’s flight creating a pleasant breeze, it was hot. It was a dry heat, though, dry enough for the water to evaporate quickly and cool the fever.

  Or so Gerald hoped.

  But after hours of flying, including a pair of stops for Gerald to empty his bladder and fill the water pouches, the youth remained feverish and unconscious. The water poured down his throat and over his head did nothing to revive him. At least he’s not getting any worse, Gerald thought helplessly. “Do you think we should stop and find an apothecary?” he called to the dragon.

  “If he doesn’t wake up soon, I’ll see what I can do with a spell,” the dragon promised. “Healing isn’t a specialty of mine, but I can probably manage something.”

  After another hour without the youth regaining proper consciousness, the dragon suggested it might be time for it to try a spell. Immediately, as if the suggestion had been a spell itself, the youth began to stir, moaning and turning his head.

  “Come on, then,” Gerald encouraged him. “Are you in there? Wake up, come on.” He drizzled more willow bark water between his lips and was rewarded by a spluttering cough as the youth attempted to breathe the water rather than swallow it.

  He kept coughing, hard enough that the dragon called, “Is everything all right back there?” but after Gerald pounded him on the back he gasped once and then began breathing normally.

  “We’re fine!” Gerald called back to the dragon.

  He looked at the young man, and said, “Come on, you were almost awake. Come on, wake up. Wake up!”

  And the young man opened his eyes. He blinked in confusion, turning his head to try to take in his surroundings. When he focused on Gerald, his eyes widened, and he began fighting to sit up and move away. When he couldn’t, when he discovered the ropes and harnesses keeping him tied to the dragon, he began thrashing about even harder.

  “Whoa, whoa, it’s okay!” Gerald cried, reaching for his flailing limbs and trying to restrain the youth before he hurt himself or managed to pull out of the harness. “You’ve been sick, you’re okay, relax, relax!”

  “Are you sure everything’s all right?” the dragon called again.

  “Who said that?” the youth gasped. He continued turning his head from side to side, but he had stopped fighting against the harness and Gerald.

  Nevertheless, Gerald was afraid he would panic again if he mentioned the dragon, so he responded with a question of his own: “Are you all right?”

  “I… My head hurts. What happened?”

  “You were stumbling through the desert with sun fever,” Gerald said. “My, uh, companion and I were leaving when we saw you. We had to take you with us.”

  “You abducted me?”

  “Er… Well, yes, I suppose, technically. But honestly! You would have died if we left you there. I would hardly call that an abduction.”

  “You bodily moved me from where I was and you’ve tied me up. I would call that an abduction.”

  Gerald held his hands up defensively. “You’re tied up so you don’t fall! You’ve been unconscious with fever all day and we’re traveling. As soon as we land, you’re free to go.”

  “As soon as we land?” the young man repeated. “You mean we’re on a ship? How far did you take me from the desert?”

  “We’re over the desert now,” Gerald said.

  “We’re over it?” he echoed. “You don’t mean we’re flying!”

  “Er…yes, actually.” And then, with a mental shrug—in for copper, in for gold—he added, “On a dragon. That’s who was speaking earlier, actually.”

  The young man boggled at him. “I’m still feverish,” he declared. “This is all some sort of fever dream.” He paused thoughtfully and added, “That would explain why you’re not wearing a shirt.”

  Gerald blushed furiously at that and snatched his still-damp shirt off the youth’s head. “I’m not wearing a shirt because I was using it to lower your fever!” he snapped as he hastily pulled it back over his head. “Which seems to have worked. Finally. So no, you’re not hallucinating. We’re flying on dragonback.”

  “Not for much longer,” the dragon called cheerfully. “I’ve spotted our camping site. It will just be a few more minutes now.”

  “I believe I’ll close my eyes until then,” the young man said weakly. “I suspect I will open them to find this has all been some sort of hallucination. Wake me when the world’s gone back to normal, please.” So saying, he shut his eyes and lay back against Gerald’s shoulder.

  Gerald rolled his own eyes but didn’t otherwise protest. He’s had a shock. Or several. Would I be taking everything so well if I were in his shoes?

  The dragon landed gently enough the youth didn’t even open his eyes. I didn’t ask his name, Gerald realized belatedly as he unbuckled the harness, prodded the young man into a sitting position, and wiggled out from behind him.

  “Oye, we’ve landed,” Gerald said. “You can wake up again. Who are you, by the way?” he asked when the youth’s eyes flickered open once more.

  “Who are you?” he retorted. “You’re the one who abducted me.”

  “I didn’t abduct you—” Gerald started and then he cut himself off. “All right, let’s not get into that right now. I’m Gerald.”

  “That’s…not very informative.”

  “Prince Gerald of Andine,” he elaborated.

  “Oh. Of course you are,” the youth muttered. “How did you abduct the dragon, then?”

  “I didn’t abduct the dragon!”

  “It abducted you, then? I didn’t think that kind of thing happened anymore, not since the reforms.”

  “No one abducted anyone!” Gerald exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “With the possible exception of you, and that’s only if you want to get technical. The dragon and I escaped. Mutually.”

  “Right,” he said disbelievingly.

  “I’m not getting into this right now,” Gerald warned. “Your fever might’ve broken, but you’re still sick. We can argue about it when you’re more recovered. But for now, I’ve told you who I am. So who are you?”

  “Omar.”

  “A first name? That’s it?” Gerald mimicked teasingly, although he thought he remembered seeing that name in the Who’s Who pages.

  “Prince Omar, if you must,” he sighed. “Like you, a younger son.”

  “All right. Prince Omar of…Yevin?” he guessed.

  “What gave me away?” Omar asked sourly, looking down at his tunic.

  “How does a native of Yevin end up wandering the desert with sun fever?” Gerald asked curiously.

  “The same way anyone else does, I imagine. I didn’t drink enough water and I forgot to cover my head.”

  Gerald could practically hear the quotation marks around the word “forgot” and he frowned at Omar. “I doubt anyone else sets out to get sun fever deliberately,” Gerald said lightly. Omar scowled and looked away, but he didn’t deny it.

  “I went to a lot of trouble to bring you out of it,” Gerald said. “So kindly restrain yourself from setting off a relapse, all right? Now, I’m getting down to set up camp. Are you coming?”

  “Please do,” the dragon called. “I want to go hunting and I’d rather not have passengers—or cargo. It might get a little…messy.”

  “I’m coming,” Omar said hurriedly. “Er…how does one get down from here?”

  “Just slide down the side,” Gerald said, “or use the harness to climb if you’d rather.” He untied the canvas covering as he spoke and within moments they were squinting against the late afternoon sun. The dragon craned its head around to look at them, which helpfully had the effect of a sunshade.

  “Oh,” Omar said faintly as the shadow it cast allowed him to fully open his eyes and take in the full size of the dragon. It smiled at him, but as it did so by showing all of i
ts very large, very pointed teeth, the gesture oddly enough did not seem to reassure the Yevish prince. “Oh,” he repeated.

  “Oh yourself,” the dragon replied. “Move along now, please, I’m rather hungry. Not all of us slept all day, you know.”

  Omar hastily let himself down the side and backed away from the dragon’s mouth, moving back until he bumped into a stand of date palms.

  “That’s good, get into the shade,” the dragon said cheerfully. “Gerald can unburden me.”

  Gerald was already in the process of undoing the ties and straps that kept the harness and the supplies attached. “Almost done,” he called. “All right, stand up so I can see if I got all of them.”

  The dragon reared up on its haunches and the net of supplies remained on the ground. “Excellent,” it said, showing all its teeth again. “Move aside, will you, I’ll set this under cover…”—and saying so, it gathered up the edges of the net and lifted the whole bundle into the shrubbery around the oasis. “There we go. And I’m off. Don’t expect me before dark.”

  It launched itself into the air and soon disappeared from sight. Omar swallowed audibly. “Nothing that big should be able to move that fast,” he breathed.

  “Don’t worry,” Gerald said. “It’s on our side.”

  “Yeah? What side is that, exactly?” Omar challenged.

  “It’s on my side, then,” Gerald amended. “And its own. But neither of us mean you any harm.”

  “Yeah?” Omar repeated. “What are you planning to do with me, then?”

  Gerald shrugged. “I’m not planning to do anything. You can stay here, you can come with us, we can give you a lift somewhere. Whatever you want.”

  “You’ll just let me go?”

  “I told you, I didn’t abduct you. We were leaving and you showed up and I could hardly leave you there to die. But I don’t have any ransom plans, if that’s what you mean.”