Backyard Dragons

by Lee French

  “Is Claire here?”

  The dragon chirped and trilled. He also shook his head.

  “I can’t understand you like she can, so I don’t need explanations. Is she in trouble?”

  Enion chirped again and wriggled. In the poor light, Justin couldn’t tell if the dragon nodded or shook its head. He did catch the tiny foreleg pointing at him, though.

  Not sure what the dragon wanted to communicate, he checked around the tree holding him up and saw where the flashing lights came from. Two police cruisers and a van marked Multnomah County Animal Services sat on the street below, blocking traffic.

  The damned cops always got in the way. Justin scooped up his sword and sheathed it. “Can you take me to Claire?” Enion nodded. “Hide until I get us away from these cops, then lead us to her.”

  Enion darted under his cloak. Justin, wincing with every step, half-ran, half-stumbled down the hill to the street. In the middle of the two lane road, two cops directed traffic through the single open lane. The closest officer saw him and made him wait until a few cars went by, then she waved him across with a half-grin.

  “I tried to tell these guys it must be yours,” the officer said. “Not too many white horses with silver hooves running around Portland.”

  Justin checked behind her and saw two men trying to approach Tariel in the distance, one with a cable loop meant to go over an animal’s neck. “Yes. She was waiting for me while I went looking for something I dropped from above.” In a flash of inspiration, he yanked off his mail glove and showed his plain gold wedding band. “My wife would kill me if I lost it.” He tugged the gauntlet back on.

  The cop huffed. “You really shouldn’t leave an unattended horse on the side of the road, even one that seems as smart as yours.”

  He cocked a jaunty grin, though it felt drab and tarnished. “My mount is not merely a vulgar horse. She’s a noble steed, a mare without equal.” He’d said these words or ones like them over and over, finding they always worked to wriggle away from the police. He’d clearly said them to this particular cop before. For the first time, though, he delivered them without feeling, without a sense he did it to amuse them as much as to avoid arrest.

  “Are you okay?” The officer snatched a flashlight off her belt and clicked it on, shining it on his face.

  He turned away from the harsh light and saw the man with the loop throwing it at Tariel’s head. She danced to the side, evading it with a whinny of irritation. They didn’t have time for this. Something had happened to Claire. Justin needed to help her. He raised a hand and thought about smacking that flashlight away, but expected she’d shoot him if he did. Until Tariel got closer, provoking the cop would be stupid. Instead, he swiped his hand through the air to dismiss her.

  “Of course I’m fine,” he grumbled.

  She raised her hands to placate him. “It’s okay, Sir Knight. Calm down.”

  For some reason, her request annoyed him more. He grimaced and turned his back on her. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called out, “Tariel! I found it, let’s go!” Before he lowered his hands, the cop slapped a handcuff around his wrist. He raised an eyebrow. “Lady, you don’t want to do that.”

  “I think maybe you’ve been drinking and need to call it a night, Knight.”

  Tariel trumpeted and charged the two men. She dodged the loop and plowed into the man holding it, sending him flying to the side.

  The cop yanked on Justin’s arm, twisting him around to force the other cuff on.

  Justin’s patience evaporated. He slammed his mail-covered fist into the cop’s gut. She fell to the ground, gasping for air. Justin kicked her in the face. She slumped on her back. The other cop drew his gun.

  “Stay where you are and put your hands up!”

  Ignoring him, Justin snared the pommel of Tariel’s saddle as she slowed on her way past him and jumped onto her back. He hadn’t done a moving mount in a while, but the muscles all remembered their jobs even if they protested.

  The sharp report of a gunshot barely preceded the heavy impact on his back.

  Tariel sped until they passed cars in a blur, leaving the mess behind. She slowed as they reached an on-ramp for I-5. “Where to?”

  Justin plucked the bullet out of his armor and tossed it aside. Stupid cops. They got so worked up about such stupid things. At least the cloak and armor would repair themselves. The minor bruise had already faded. “Enion, lead us to Claire.”

  Enion darted out and landed on Tariel’s head. He pointed across the river.

  “Get him off me,” Tariel snapped.

  “I don’t need this crap,” Justin groused. “Tariel isn’t your mount, Enion, she’s mine. Fly.”

  Chapter 27

  Claire

  Sitting in a MAX Blue Line light rail car, Claire stared at the window, barely registering the dark scenery sliding past. Beside her, an elderly woman clacked knitting needles together, creating a sweater or blanket from emerald green yarn. The color reminded Claire of Justin. Kurt had obviously tricked him into breaking these seals, whatever they were. She had no trouble believing that could happen. Justin never asked enough questions about anything. Rondy said—

  She rubbed her face, trying not to think about Rondy. The train stopped, and people jostled around her. When the commuters settled, she noticed a man with his back to her, gripping the pole as he stood in the aisle. He had long black dreadlocks draped over his navy jacket. Of course he did. The one time she wanted to not think about Rondy, someone came to remind her of him.

  With a sigh, she closed her eyes and leaned against the window. She missed Enion too. As useless as he’d been in a fight so far, the infectious power of cute would be a welcome buoy right now. Maybe she wasn’t meant to be a Knight after all. They all dwarfed her by at least half a foot with wrists and necks thicker than her thighs. She’d made a dagger, not a sword. Her sprite couldn’t keep her from having to use the MAX.

  If she wasn’t meant to be a Knight, what was she supposed to do? She pondered the question, again wishing she could ask Rondy. Justin might come up with an answer, but Rondy’s would be more useful. She sighed and told herself to stop it. Rondy was dead. She’d killed him.

  “You’re not as culpable as you want to believe.”

  Claire jerked her head away from the window. Instead of the little old lady, a tall, broad-shouldered black man sat next to her. Between his black dreadlocks and the lack of age in his face, she thought the guy she’d noticed earlier had taken the seat. Then she looked into his soft brown eyes and knew who he must be.

  “I’m dreaming.” With this flash of insight, she noticed the rail car had emptied. The two of them sat alone as it bumped along its tracks.

  Rondy smiled. “Something like that.”

  She didn’t deserve that smile. Eyes burning, she hung her head. “I’m sorry.”

  He draped his arm around her shoulders. “When I was young, my family immigrated to America. My father had made a lot of money selling our ancestral lands to a mining company. We moved to a small apartment in Kingston and bad luck befell us at every turn. My grandmother died of sickness, my younger brother had an accident and lost his foot, my father lost sight in one eye from a senseless fight, roaches invaded the apartment, our car got two flat tires at once, and on and on.

  “He thought the loa, the spirits of our ancestors, were punishing us for abandoning the land and brought us here in the hopes they wouldn’t be able to chase us across the water. He tried to find a place in Florida, but encountered segregation and decided he didn’t want his children to grow up with that. We kept going north until he picked a town in Ohio where the real estate agent didn’t turn his nose up at him for being black.

  “We moved to the nicest neighborhood he could get us into. Even though we had a lot of money, in those days being black meant we couldn’t buy houses in certain places. The people of the neighborhood he finally bought a house in didn’t want us there. The white kids, whose parents had less money than us, w
eren’t allowed to play with us.

  “At our school, my siblings and I were the only black children. The teachers didn’t like us and didn’t want to help us learn. They couldn’t understand our accents and refused to make the effort to try. We had big dreams. These women tried to crush them. We refused to let them. With the help of a nice black woman at the library, we found our own paths.

  “My older sister eventually became a nurse. My younger brother became a teacher and served the town he’d grown up in. I didn’t have quite the same ambitions as my brother and sister, but as I got older and bigger, I protected them.”

  Rondy gazed at the far wall, his hands clasped in his lap. Claire waited for a while, thinking he’d say more.

  “And the moral of the story is…? What does that have to do with me killing you?”

  He chuckled. “It’s amazing how similar you are to Justin while also being so different. You didn’t kill me, Claire, but this has little to do with that.”

  Frowning, Claire shook her head. “I saw your body. You’re dead.”

  “Yes. I’m definitely dead. How I’m here, specifically, is a mystery to me. My Phasm should be roaming the suburbs of Cleveland now. Instead, my actual soul seems to have been caught in Portland. I have no explanation for that. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

  Claire covered her face and leaned against him. “This is my fault. I’m not supposed to be a Knight. I’m supposed to be dead.”

  “If you’re going to blame anyone for that, blame your father. He loved you enough to find a way to save your life.”

  “He didn’t kill you.”

  “Neither did you. It was my own fault. I didn’t prepare you enough. I pressured you to go through with it before you were ready.” Rondy sighed. “In retrospect, I killed myself.”

  Hot tears dripped down Claire’s face. “It wasn’t fair.”

  “No, it wasn’t. I still had things to do. My daughter has no idea anything happened to me yet. When she finds out, she’ll be wracked with guilt because our last conversation ended with a fight. I’d intended to go home and talk it out when we finished with the locket. I’m not even sure how she will find out. Most Knights die well before old age, in battle. Normal people find the bodies and authorities are notified. Some of us go to the Palace after setting our affairs in order and never leave again. What happened to me is so unusual I can’t recall it happening in my time as a Knight.”

  Seeing something she could do to make amends, Claire lifted her face and wiped her cheeks with her sleeve. “If you give me her address, I can send her a letter or something.”

  Rondy smiled again. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you. Your stop is coming up, so I need to leave you for now. Think about what I said.” He touched her chin gently and kissed her forehead.

  “Skidmore Fountain Station, next stop,” announced the MAX’s recorded female voice.

  Claire jerked away from the window and rubbed her eyes. She sat in the packed rail car again, the knitter still beside her, tying off the yarn. “Excuse me,” she said to the woman. “This is my stop.”

  The elderly woman’s face crinkled in a sympathetic smile and turned her knees into the aisle so Claire could get out. “Take this, dear.” She held up the blanket she’d been working on.

  “What?”

  “I think you need it more than my grandson. He’s got all the things he could possibly want. You, though, you seem…I think you need it.” She shoved the blanket into Claire’s hands.

  The rail car slowed. “I can’t take this. You deserve to be paid for this work.”

  “Psh. Go before you miss your stop, child.” The woman shooed her away.

  Claire stumbled as the car stopped. The man with the dreadlocks pushed her in front of him as he made his way out the door. Suddenly on the brick sidewalk beside the tracks, she blinked. The car trundled up the tracks. The dreadlock man walked away from her. She stood alone in a puddle of yellow light, holding a knitted green blanket.

  When the weird rained in Portland, it poured.

  Chapter 28

  Justin

  “She’s at Anne’s?”

  Tariel stopped yet again in Anne’s yard. Anne had to be up to something to have so many things converge on her. Enion flew to the front door and landed on the screen, digging his claws into the mesh. He whistled for Justin’s attention.

  “I don’t like this,” Tariel said, flicking her tail restively.

  “Neither do I.” Justin slid down from the saddle, wincing as he landed on the ground. After riding for a little while, the rigors of climbing in that park seemed to have caught up with him, though Tariel should have healed it. He ached more than before. “I’m going to talk to Kurt first. Come into the woods with me.”

  “I wish I could come into his demesne with you.”

  “So do I.” Justin gritted his teeth and used the trees for support. The dragons woke as he passed them and chirped shrilly.

  Enion darted in and squawked at them as he landed on Justin’s shoulder, quieting his family. He patted Justin’s cheek and pointed at the house.

  “I get it, Enion.” Justin swiped the dragon off his shoulder and tossed him to the side. “She can’t be in danger here. Go find her and let her know you’re back. I’ll only be a little while.”

  Enion hit a branch and scrambled to climb onto it. He chirped forcefully at Justin. Tariel snapped her mouth over the dragon, then spat him out. Tumbling through the air, he whistled in distress until he hit a tree and dropped to the ground in a tiny heap.

  “Shut up,” Tariel snapped at him.

  “Settle down.” Justin laid a hand on the sycamore. “No fighting. You two need to learn to get along.”

  “He started it.”

  Clenching his jaw, Justin counted to five in his head. “I don’t care.” He shoved with his will and shifted into Kurt’s demesne. Finally able to relax for a minute, he sat on the sand under diffuse, dim light and tossed his gloves aside.

  “You look like hell, boy.”

  “Thanks. This day just won’t end.”

  Kurt squatted beside him. “How’d you do on the graves?”

  Too tired to care about anything, Justin lay on the sand. “The only thing left is the fountain. I’ll need some help if I have to find a way to knock that thing over to stab under it.”

  “Found the stone in Goose Hollow, eh?” Kurt patted Justin’s bent knee. “Good job. Try climbing on top of the fountain and stabbing through there. I don’t think you have to get under it like you did with the stones.”

  Scowling, Justin propped himself up on his elbows. “You don’t know?”

  Kurt waved him off without looking at him. “It’s not like I ever used the power. If I had, it wouldn’t be there for you. Always figured I’d do whatever it took when I needed to.”

  Justin harrumphed and struggled to keep his eyes open.

  “If you don’t need my help with the map, why’re you here, boy?”

  “Those shadows bit me. The wounds won’t stop hurting. Thought some rest might fix it.”

  “So you came here. Because you knew that if your bond with Tariel couldn’t fix it, the Palace won’t either.”

  Though he hadn’t had that specific, coherent thought, Justin nodded. He must have realized it subconsciously. “Something like that.”

  “If you want, I can give a shot at it. Rules seem a little different here.”

  A twinge in the back of Justin’s mind wanted him to refuse. He ignored it. Any help dealing with this problem was, in his opinion, good help. “Go for it. Can’t make things worse, right?”

  “Nope.” Kurt laid a hand on Justin’s leg.

  Justin closed his eyes, cringing at the light touch. A warm, pleasant breeze blew over him, chasing away all his aches and weariness. He sighed in contentment and didn’t move for a long time.

  “How’s your apprentice?”

  “She’s a teenager.”

  “So dumb, hotheaded, and convinced she knows ever
ything.”

  Justin snorted. “That about covers it.”

  “Strange thing, a girl Knight. Wonder if she’s got witch blood in her.”

  “Her father saved her life with power from the Palace. It’s an unintended side effect. When I looked her over, I didn’t see any inherent power in her. If she’s a witch, I’ll eat my boot.”

  “Huh. Dragon sprite, though. That’s plain weird. Wonder if she’s more susceptible to tainting than a regular Knight.”

  Justin hadn’t considered the possibility until now. Everything about her was different from every other Knight. She had a different build, a different weapon, a different sprite, and different challenges. Enion had wanted him to go into Anne’s house, though. “I’m more worried about Anne. Can a witch taint a Knight like a corrupted Phasm can?”

  “Not sure. You think Anne is part of this?”

  “I still say she’s not powerful enough, but damn if there isn’t practically a neon sign flashing over her house, pointing at her. She’s got a bunch of new crystals and the dragons just happen to live behind her house. I have no idea why she put a spell on them, though, or what she thinks she can do with them.”

  “Eh. They’re like flying cats. A flock of them could cause a lot of trouble. Interesting that Claire bonded to one.”

  “Yes, it is.” Justin sat up, feeling refreshed enough to deal with the fountain and handle a witch. “She’s hardly a challenge to me, but I’d rather have her safe and sound than trying to stab me in the back. Do you think you could hold onto her while I deal with Anne?”

  “No problem. Bring her here and I’ll keep her safe.” Kurt patted Justin’s knee again. “Might even be able to clear that taint without killing the witch. Then you could take her down together. Or, even better, you could work together to bring that witch here and we could all three show her the straight and narrow path. Never know, boy. Witches can be valuable allies. Just gotta control them.”