The Dubious Gift of Dragon Blood

by J. Marshall Freeman

  “Teacher, the marks on the wall, the blood—”

  “Child! The bidahénas have investigated all the circumstances and found nothing suspicious. It is not our place to question the wisdom of beings so exalted.”

  Davix shot a brief glance up. “I meant no disrespect,” he said. “But, Teacher, let us examine the details once again.” This was their way, the kind of open debate that Grav’nan-dahé encouraged when they considered problematic passages of the DragonLaw.

  But the Prime Magistrate did not enter into the game. Instead, he snapped, “Do you dare question? You should be glad that the blame was not placed at your feet.”

  Davix felt like he’d been slapped. I am not a child, he wanted to shout. But then a cold chill passed through his body. It had never occurred to him he could be blamed for Rinby’s death. He lowered his head in humility. “We are sustained by the love of the Dragon Lords.”

  This tenet was central to the People’s beliefs; it was anchor and comfort. But for the first time in his life, the words felt strange on his tongue. His suspicions were reasonable. And yet the bidahénas, the closest any of the People came to standing in the presence of a real dragon, had made their determination. If their version of events wasn’t already written in the DragonLaw, it soon would be. Any contradicting theories were now blasphemies, and he must abandon them. It was a blessing, he knew, to submit to the perfection of the DragonLaw. But try as he might, this submission rankled.

  He was startled when the Prime Magistrate came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Davix,” he said, suddenly gentle. “We all mourn Rinby’s loss, and I understand the two of you were especially close. Be strong.”

  Davix felt tears come to his eyes. Grav’nan-dahé, whom so many regarded as remote and cold, was calling him by his familiar name, had brought him to the Council Chambers just to offer him comfort. Davix felt ashamed of his rebellious thoughts. From now on, he would take control of his heart and prove himself worthy of his Teacher’s trust.

  “Thank you, Teacher. I am grateful for your support. Many of Rinby’s duties have fallen to me, and I have had to redouble my Atmospherics studies in order to perform these tasks. The Atmospherics Master believes I will have to step back from my lessons with you, at least for a time.”

  Grav’nan-dahé’s took his hand from Davix’s shoulder, and his voice again grew cold. “Does he? And does Tix-etnep-thon-dahé understand how I have come to depend on you?”

  Davix looked nervously up at the man. The sky outside had darkened, and Grav’nan-dahé’s face was in shadow.

  “Teacher, my pledge to my discipline—”

  “Have you not also made pledges to me?” The wind was rising, and Davix felt the tiny hairs on his neck stand up. “We make choices in life, Acolyte, and they affect our future in ways we can hardly imagine. Think carefully before you—”

  As a crack shattered the air, the straining daylight was extinguished altogether and the wind began to howl. Davix ran to the window to see what the sky was doing, automatically making a reckoning. Wind from redward, level four, gusting to six.

  “Krar’s claws!” Grav’nan-dahé cursed as he joined him at the window.

  Davix could hardly believe what he was witnessing. “Has someone energized the strands? Are they crossing over?”

  Grav’nan-dahé’s eyes were hard, black coals. “Come! We must put a stop to this.” The Prime Magistrate hurried for the door, and Davix ran after him.

  They left Etnep House and ran across the Retreat of Tarn. The great square was filling with the citizens of Cliffside, excited and a little fearful. All eyes were turned skyward, and though he was hurrying to keep up with the Prime Magistrate, Davix stopped to look up, too. Above them, the realm sky had appeared, turning day to night, and hanging in it was the Realm of Earth. The great globe, whose weather systems could be read in its cloud patterns, floated blue, green, and brown overhead, serene and majestic. The twisted strands that connected the two realms glowed with potency, a comforting connection to the ancient home world.

  “It is the Dragon Groom,” Davix said. “He comes because of the prophecy.”

  Grav’nan-dahé spun around to face his acolyte. “Where have you heard of this prophecy?”

  “There have been rumours circulating through Cliffside for days.”

  “Exactly! Rumour and heresy. The followers of the Fire Revealed test my tolerance. Hear my unequivocal words, D’gada-vixtet-thon. The DragonLaw has no room for the fictions of false seers.” The man was sweating, face red and breathing laboured.

  “But, Teacher,” Davix said. “What about the Prophecies in the Badlands? The agonies of N’rayaf are a cherished chapter in the—”

  “That was in the Days of Wonder, when the Realm stood closer to the heart of creation.” Thunder shook their chests. The glowing forks of the strands reached down from the sky to touch the Message Aerie, a tall building on an adjacent street.

  “There is little time.” Grav’nan-dahé took hold of Davix’s shoulders and brought his face close. Davix could smell the fermented bean of the man’s lunch. “You and I must stand as bulwark against the rising tide of superstition. Remember, prophecy is heresy!” The Prime Magistrate, breathing hard, took another moment to gather his strength, then turned and ran toward the Message Aerie, shouting, “Hurry!”

  Davix worried for the old man’s stubborn, ancient heart.

  Chapter 7: Another World, Another Rooftop

  Travelling between worlds, it turns out, doesn’t feel like bungee jumping, which would have been my first guess. It’s not flying, but it’s not falling. Maybe it’s like being an attachment in an instant message. You have no body. You’re nothing but random impulses, then DING! BUZZ! you arrive as a full-fledged dick pic on someone’s screen.

  I was on my hands and knees, forehead drenched in sweat, staring down at rows of red-brown tiles. The air smelled of evergreens and baking bread, with a faint undertone of rotten eggs.

  In my peripheral vision, Tiqokh stood up. “Rise, Dragon Groom. We are home!” His voice was more excited than I had heard in all the hours since we’d become BDFFs.

  I tried to stand, but I only got halfway up before stretching forward and vomiting epically across the neatly laid tiles. My knees went weak, and I might have done a face plant right into my own puke puddle, but Tiqokh grabbed me and led me over to a low wall. I took in just enough of the surroundings to see we were standing on the roof of a tall, narrow building, but I was dizzy and needed to sit down before I did any more sightseeing. I closed my eyes and let the fresh breeze cool my face.

  Somewhere above me, Tiqokh said, “I hope I’m in time for the colloquy.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The mixed beings meet twice a cycle to discuss pertinent issues. The discussions are most stimulating. I have missed them during my time on Earth.”

  The dizziness was passing, and the thought hit me like lightning. I’m in another world! My eyes snapped open.

  The first thing I noticed—and it was hard to miss—was the Earth hanging above us in 3D IMAX with surround sound. It was just like the scene from the Ambassador rooftop, except with my home planet in the sky.

  But before I could wrap my brain around this thought, the sky lightened, and the Earth faded and vanished. The obnoxious, interdimensional thunder receded into the distance, until the only sound was a flock of freaked-out birds circling the building and screaming the alarm. We were halfway up a big hill, above a green valley mostly covered in thick fog. Between the patches of flowing white mist, I could spot unplanted farmland, the earth tilled in long neat lines like a corduroy blazer.

  Tiqokh handed me a mint with “Ambassador Hotel” printed on the wrapper and said, “Travelling the strands can be disorienting to mind and body. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, popping the mint and stuffing the wrapper in my pocket. Polluting another world with Earth-branded garbage would have been downright obscen
e. The building we were standing on was one of many, built above and below us on the side of a hill, forming a small city. Up the hill to one side was a castle, its tall spires half hidden in the fog. To the other side was a stone-walled fort with its own towers, blockier and less graceful than the castle. If the city was the head of a bull, these two big structures were the horns.

  “Who lives here? The Five Dragons? I was expecting more of a cave thing. Maybe with a big pile of gold coins.”

  “No, this is Cliffside, the habitation of the People, the humans who serve the Five.”

  The way he said “the People,” I could tell it was capitalized. And right on cue, a trap door opened, and five or six humans climbed up from a stairwell onto the roof. Their jaws were hanging open at the sight of me, so I figured tourists weren’t exactly common. But the People weren’t there to gawk at me. They were trying to catch the dozen or so scared birds who were still circling the building, cawing noisily. The birds reminded me of crows, except that their heads were red and their beaks were longer. The humans stood at the edge of the building, making cooing noises, convincing the birds to land on their outstretched hands.

  Now more of the People were climbing onto the roof. Unlike the bird herders, they were definitely there to see what the cat had dragged in across the strands. There were men and women of different ages, dressed in loose-fitting clothes in earth tones, reds, and greens. All were brown-skinned, and except for those going grey, they all had straight, jet black hair.

  The group had grown to more than twenty when this dramatic-looking guy climbed up from below and pushed through their ranks. He was a tall, older man in a long, shiny robe, his steel gray hair pulled back in a ponytail. He looked pissed off.

  “No!” he shouted in a big confident voice, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “You do not belong here!” I stepped closer to Tiqokh, and you can tell how freaked I was if Tiqokh was my new standard for security.

  A kid my age had climbed up with the old guy and was staring at me, arms crossed on his chest. His long black hair was tied in a little bun on top of his head, but stray bits leaked out, falling across his neck and over his forehead. Skinny waist, wide shoulders. His bare arms were lightly muscled—not like he lifted. More like he had a weekend job loading boxes in his uncle’s warehouse.

  “Greetings, Grav’nan-dahé,” Tiqokh said as the old guy crossed to our side of the roof. “This lad of Earth, one of the twenty who carry the blood, has been chosen Dragon Groom. I was instructed to bring him to the Realm of Fire, following the recent prophecy of the death of a dragon.”

  “Prophecy is heresy!” shouted the kid with him, like some angry street corner preacher. His face, built around a big curved nose, was clenched in a hard mask of determination, but the warm dark eyes, gentle and intelligent, and his full silky lips suggested a softer side. If he and the old guy weren’t making me feel so unwelcome, I’d be hoping for a chance to kiss him.

  “Prophecy is heresy,” Grav’nan-dahé agreed with a nod. “The Council of Earth, it pains me to say, has been poisoned by superstition. Rest assured, Tiqokh, the Five Dragons are strong and healthy. While we appreciate your hard work so far from home, you were wrong to bring this boy here. You will return him immediately to the Realm of Earth.”

  My heart sank. Was that it? We were being turned back by border services? In twenty-four hours, I’d found out I was part of this whole crazy world of fire dragons and had flown to another universe or dimension or postal code or whatever, and now I was supposed to head home without even a T-shirt from the duty-free shop? I gave Tiqokh a desperate look, but his face, as usual, betrayed nothing.

  “That is not possible, Prime Magistrate. My strength is depleted from the journey, and the realms are no longer in alignment.”

  “How long until you are able to cross back?”

  Tiqokh held up the summoning stone and examined the sky through it. “We have entered a retrograde slippage. Three days, I would guess.”

  Grav’nan-dahé licked his lips and wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe. “I am not sure I believe you, quadrana.”

  “As you know, the quadranas are incapable of telling lies.”

  “Who knows what habits you have learned on Earth.”

  Tiqokh pushed me forward unexpectedly, and I almost tripped. “This boy, whatever you believe about the timing of his visit, is the chosen Dragon Groom. He deserves your deepest respect, not to be shooed out like a frog that has hopped into the dining hall.”

  Everyone on the roof grew very still, like they didn’t dare take sides. The fog that had been drifting around rolled onto the rooftop. Noises carried strangely in the new humidity, and everything grew blurry. I started sweating like a spelling bee contestant.

  Angry wrinkles had formed around the old guy’s eyes. “Do not presume to school me in manners, Tiqokh,” he said. “Very well, I concede your point. You and the youth have travelled far, and the copper in his blood means he is part of this realm. But as the time of his service is not now—may the Five long outlive us—he cannot be called the Dragon Groom.” The man took my chin and tilted my head around, like he was a judge at the kennel show and I was in the running for pug of the year. “You will be known as the Copper Guest.” He let go of me, which was good, because I was about to slap his hand away. “Welcome to the Realm of Fire,” he said, touching his forehead and then his chest, like Tiqokh had back at the hotel.

  “Uh, thanks.”

  Grav’nan-dahé turned to the people on the roof. “Peace and balance to the Copper Guest!”

  “Peace and balance!” they echoed. Bells began ringing across the city. Were they for me or was it a coincidence?

  The crowd went down the stairwell, with a lot of backward glances at this strange new animal that had fallen from the sky. Soon only six of us were left: Grav’nan-dahé, me, Tiqokh, and three kids around my age—the guy with the kissable lips and strong opinions about prophecy, a tough-looking girl, and another guy who was all buff and stuff, but not quite as cute as the first guy.

  The old guy said, “Copper Guest, I am Grav’nan-dahé, Prime Magistrate of the Realm of Fire. We bid you welcome to our realm and to our city, Cliffside. Tonight, there will be a dinner in your honour with the masters of the ten disciplines.” He indicated the three teens. “These young people are some of our lead apprentices, and they will help you prepare for that meeting. Apprentices, he needs to be properly attired and taught some etiquette.”

  I almost answered, I’m not Eliza Doolittle, buddy, but the girl said, “It will be done, Honoured One.”

  “And that needs to be cleaned up,” Grav’nan-dahé said, waving through the thickening fog in the general direction of my vomit puddle. Ladies and gentlemen, Crispin Haugen knows how to make an entrance.

  Chapter 8: The Intruder

  ponder and strategize: the strands ignited, an unwelcome intrusion. the demi-dragons fail again. infuriating. The Intruder watched with keen eyes the gathering on the roof, the immature human who smelled of copper at its centre. should he die, or might he play a useful part? The Intruder watched and waited. soon soon.

  Chapter 9: Fog, Frog, and Fabric

  I followed Grav’nan-dahé into the stairwell, with Tiqokh behind me and the three apprentice kids bringing up the rear. As we descended, I peeked into one of the side rooms and saw rows of wooden cages filled with the redheaded crows. The bird herders from the roof were still cooing at their frightened flock, feeding them treats by hand. I stepped aside to let a woman with a sloshing bucket of water past, on her way up to clean my little offering. Should I have apologized? Maybe I did need etiquette lessons.

  When we got outside, I was surprised to see Grav’nan-dahé already far down the street, gone without saying goodbye. Tiqokh, still dressed in his fedora and long coat, looked oddly at home in the thick, rolling fog, like he was doing private eye cosplay. He bent over and placed a hand on my shoulder.

  “Do not fear, Dragon Groom,” he said quietly i
n my ear. “Your arrival is of great significance to the People. They will not let you come to harm. Now, I must leave you for a time.”

  “Wait, who wants to harm me?” He just gave my shoulder a squeeze and walked up the street in the opposite direction from High Priest Creepy. I almost yelled after him, “Can we forget all this and go back to Earth?” But then the three apprentice kids were walking my way. The girl had her arm wrapped cosily around the waist of the preacher boy with the topknot. Not that he was really a dating option, but I was still disappointed to find out he was straight. A man in black walked past me, shooting the couple a crabby look, and they hastily disengaged, lowering their eyes.

  “Are you in need of a chaperone?” the man in black asked.

  The girl shook her head. “Thank you, Gan’sul. We will not be leaving the public sphere.”

  Laughing, the ripped boy added, “And there’s four of us. It’s not that kind of party. Especially not with the Copper Guest!”

  Gan’sul didn’t look convinced, but he walked on.

  During this exchange, the preacher boy had moved away to stand alone in the shade of a building, brooding sexily. The girl and the ripped boy walked up to me.

  “Welcome! Peace and balance!” said the girl. “I’m Stakrat, Lead Apprentice in Defence of Realm.”

  “Uh, hi.”

  Stakrat was about my height—not big and butch, but I could see by the sinewy muscles in her arms and calves how formidable she was. I guess that made sense if you were defending realms. She also wore a big nasty knife on her leather belt, so clearly she was a good person to have on my side.

  The ripped guy was actually less intimidating than Stakrat, friendly like a pet ox with a big goofy smile. “Grentz,” he introduced himself. “Lead Apprentice in Stonework.” He reached out a hand to me, and I didn’t know whether I was expected to shake, fist bump, or try a full-on gang sign tap dance. What we were supposed to do, it turned out, was grab each other’s same-side forearm. We were both laughing by the time I had it right.