Night of the Dragons

by Miranda Martin

  "Thank you," I say slowly, gesturing again to the pallet, the rug, the rack. "Thank you."

  He looks around at the things he's brought and nods, his smile faint, his eyes warm. I think he might actually understand what I'm trying to say. I really feel like I've cracked through a wall. With all of them, not just Mikhos. I can see now that there's the possibility of a full-on conversation here with enough time and effort.

  But my smile fades as I look at Mikhos, really look at him now that there aren't other dragon-men around, with the dynamics between each of them to focus on. I haven't really had the time or been in a mental state to look any of them over close up, even if they would let me. Somehow, my eyes have started to get accustomed to how they look, despite their very alien differences. But that doesn't mean I don't want a closer look, and this feels like the perfect time. There isn't anyone else around to interrupt and Royal—Mikhos—is the calmest of all of them. Maybe he'll be okay with me touching him. I know I want to try.

  Biting my lip, I stand up and walk towards him, not giving myself time to talk myself out of it. This might be a stupid move. He watches me, not making a move to distance himself as I approach. I'll take that as a good sign. Even crouching, his head is only a little below mine, his body so tall and muscled that I don't feel at any advantage even though I'm a little taller in this position. He could wipe the floor with me without a problem—that much is crystal clear. But I don't think he will. I don't think any of them will. It's that certainty, founded on my experiences with them so far, that has me comfortable enough to reach out and touch Mikhos. Initiate contact myself for the first time.

  I hold his eyes as I touch the skin on his shoulder. He goes still under my touch, his pretty amethyst eyes widening slightly. But he doesn't move away. Taking that as tacit consent to touch him, I slide my fingers over to his scales, slick and cool to the touch, and such a pretty violet. Our breathing is the only sound in the small cave as I explore him. He stays still, letting me do what I will. The power gives me an extra thrill I didn't expect. I lightly touch the small horns I can see, feeling how hard they are.

  He watches me.

  I break eye contact to circle around him so I can touch his wings. They're fascinating. I've been wanting to get my hands on them since I first saw them. They look like leather, but they have an eye-catching sheen to them as I slide my fingers wonderingly along their sleek edges. They're adapted specifically for that fine sand out there, helping him travel lightly despite his bulk. They're too small for their large bodies to actually fly with, but I wonder if they can glide through the air, as well as across the sand. I comb my fingers through his dark, silky hair next. Not alien, but I've been wanting to do that too. It's so luscious and soft. And he lets me, staying carefully still.

  Movement catches my eye. It's his tail. I lean down, fascinated by its muscled, sinuous movements. It's so completely alien to anything I've ever seen, but it's also beautiful and practical. Reaching out, I slide my fingers carefully along the rough, scaled exterior.

  Mikhos shudders at the touch, his first really noticeable reaction since I started. I step back as he stands abruptly, rising to his full height to loom over me as he and the others have been since I've met them.

  What happened?

  Did I do something wrong?

  He gives me a look, one of longing—that's how I would describe it. But then...why did he stop me from touching him? He shakes his head, his expression resolute even as he reaches out to touch the side of my face, his large hand as gentle as ever. Confused, I reach up to touch the back of his hand, but he slides away from the touch and steps back, pain lurking behind that resolution.

  What is going on? He says something in a low, husky tone, bowing to me slightly. I really wish I could understand what he's saying. After he's done talking, he gives me one last look, and then turns and walks right out of my cave, the newly hung curtain falling back into place after him.

  I suddenly feel very alone and confused. I sink back down onto the softened pallet. I thought . . . I thought it was clear they all wanted me before. Wasn't it? Then what just happened? Did I read them wrong? Had I offended them by rejecting them before? Offended Mikhos? He looked almost pained by my touch, as if it hurt him to feel my hands on him.

  I wrap my arms around my knees, feeling an ache in my chest that doesn't have anything to do with my physical heart. I didn't think rejection from one of them would hurt my feelings so much, but it did. It does. I look over at that flimsy curtain and try to figure out what I might have done wrong and why Mikhos leaving feels so hurtful.

  I close my eyes. I'm such a mess of contradictions. But I don't know how else to be.

  11

  I'm too exhausted to worry about what happened with Mikhos for too long. Ridiculous, but true. I haven't even been awake for long at all. And all I've really done is eat, drink, and sit. But it doesn't matter. My body has decided that it's time to sleep again, so I curl up on the much more comfortable pallet, closing my eyes.

  My body is shutting down. And the heat on this planet isn't helping matters. But I can't control either one, my body or the climate, so I let sleep claim me without a fight. I want to escape this feeling anyway.

  Unfortunately, it isn't restful this time either. I toss and turn, vague nightmares plaguing me, an odd jumble of images from the ship, sweeping shots of full-on dragons, and a blazing fire, tendrils of flames licking at me. I don't need to be a psychiatrist to know what it is. Just the ramblings of my consciousness spewing out at me as soon as my defenses are down, my stress and anxiety putting things together in an unsettling way. Despite the dreams, I manage to sleep for a while, even though it isn't quality sleep.

  It doesn't help though. When I do roll onto my back and open my eyes, I still feel like complete and total shit. Like I've been struggling and fighting rather than sleeping. I'm soaked in sweat and I would kill for a bath and a change of clothes. Is this what Charlize Theron felt like when she was playing Furiosa? I sit up with a groan. Too bad I'm not a blond amazon who can look great even under conditions like this. And with a shaved head to boot. Though shaving my head sounds amazing right now, the extra covering making me even hotter.

  I gather my hair and lift it up off my neck, strands of it sticking still because they're so wet with my sweat. I wrinkle my nose. Gross. I turn to squint at the curtain and see that it's still daylight out there. I blink. Did I sleep the whole day through? And what is that smell? Oh no. I turn my head a little more into my armpit. And quickly turn away, dropping my arms and my hair. Yup, that smell is me. Definitely a morale-lowering realization.

  This synthetic material is so not built for this weather. I've worn it through hell and back on top of that. The clothing doesn't look any better than it smells. All of that sweat has left stains in some very embarrassing places. Something has to be done about this. First order of business, I need to find something else to wear. Which, once again, involves getting up.

  Muttering to myself, I use the rock to climb to my feet again, glad of its stability. After taking a few deep breaths, I head out onto the pathway outside my cave and march over to the storage cave, hoping I might find something there. Continuing to mutter to myself—maybe I'm having a true break with reality—I rummage through the piles of things stuffed into the boxes and baskets. But the only possibilities for clothing that I come across are more furs and skins.

  I lean against the pile, surveying it as I sigh. I guess I'll eventually have to start wearing things like the dragon-men do. But I'm no Martha Stewart. Pre or post-prison. I have no idea how to sew. Or how to make a birdbath out of floss and pine cones either, though I might have been tempted to try to build a bikini out of them if they had some. At least I could tie floss like string.

  I take a step back, bracing my hands on my hips as I look at all the stuff in the cave some more, hoping something will jump out at me. But it doesn't. This is a problem for another time. I'm a firm subscriber to the belief that you should put ever
ything off as long as possible if you can.

  I look down at myself. But I still need clean clothes. And since this suit is all I have, I'm going to have to wash it. Not ideal, but at least I know where I can find water now.

  Resolute, I leave the cave and walk down the ramp to the sand, glad that gravity is at least helping me on the way down. I need to conserve all the energy I can for that stamina-sucking length of sand I'm going to have to wade through now.

  I stop abruptly, realizing the sun isn't baking me with its direct glare. I look down at the looming shadow in front of me. Wait a minute . . .

  I quickly turn around. Looks like I've picked up not one, but two shadows. Danger's hulking frame is responsible for blocking a lot of the sun's rays, but Fire is right next to him. They may or may not have slightly guilty expressions on their faces. Or maybe I'm just projecting.

  "I'm just heading over to the oasis," I say, gesturing out to in the direction I have to go. "You don't have to come with me. I know where I'm going."

  I don't know why I'm bothering saying all this. They can't understand what I'm saying. As predicted, they give me blank looks. I'm getting really tired of those.

  "All right, Piper," I say under my breath as I turn around and step out onto the red sand. "Just accept the shadows. You can pretend they aren't there."

  I snort at that. Yeah, that'll be easy. I still try to do it. I walk out, struggling forward as my feet keep sinking in the sand. It helps that moving is so difficult. Keeps my mind off what the two of them are thinking behind me.

  But that doesn't last long. Maybe thirty seconds tops.

  "Whoa!" I cry out as two very muscular arms pick me up, cradling me against a hard chest. I look up to see Danger's hard face. Then I see a flash of movement to the side, but Danger turns his head and hisses at Fire, looking beyond intimidating. Yeah, I wouldn't want to cross that, especially if it came with all of that muscle to back it up. It looked like Fire had been stepping forward to try to take me from Danger. Not something I would recommend. I'm pretty sure Danger's brute strength would give him an advantage in a fight against any of them.

  When I crane my head to look at Fire, I see him clenching his jaw, his fists curled at his sides as he glares at Danger. For a second, I'm worried Fire is going to do something stupid, like push the matter, but he doesn't. He keeps walking, not trying for it again, his shoulders stiff. I let out a relieved breath. Royal is nowhere in sight, and I have no idea how I could have diffused the situation by myself. I'm glad Fire didn't start something. I really wish I could talk to them. Knock some sense into those thick skulls somehow. Maybe it'll happen in time. We've exchanged a few words. Well, mostly names. But I feel like it counts.

  In the meantime, however, I'm just going to enjoy not having to walk in the sand. At least something good came out of this. To that end, I lean my face against Danger's cool chest, feeling ridiculously small and delicate in his brawny arms. I can even tell he's deliberately trying not hold me too tightly, as if he's afraid he might squeeze me too hard. I wonder what it's like to be so strong you'd be worried about something like that. Must be nice. If I had his body, I'd probably be picking up really heavy things all the time, just to see if I could.

  I don't have a lot of time to fantasize about it. In Danger's arms, it takes about a quarter of the time it would have taken to reach the oasis had I walked myself. Much appreciated with the sun beating down on us like it always seems to be and my body feeling less than stellar. Like it also always seems to be.

  When we do reach the edge of the water, Danger carefully sets me down on my feet, keeping a steadying hand on me to make sure I don't fall over.

  "Thank you," I say, smiling up at him.

  He smiles back, nodding. I don't know if he fully understands the word, but he seems to understand the sentiment at least. It's possible Royal also spread the word about what it means.

  Fire comes up to stand next to Danger and I have an awkward moment where I realize they're just going to stand there and watch me. Maybe it's stupid to feel embarrassed after everything they've already seen and touched, but I just don't feel comfortable stripping down to nothing in front of their curious eyes. I don't want to start things up again like last time, either. Debating with myself, I finally decide to just split the difference. I'll strip down to my underwear and wash the rest first.

  That decided, I turn to the water and don't give myself too much time to think about it, removing the suit and leaving my underwear and bra on. They need to be washed too, obviously, but maybe I can pull on my clean suit when it’s done and then take care of them.

  I can feel Danger and Fire's eyes on me, but I deliberately don't look at them as I drop the filthy cloth into the water and crouch down to scrub. Maybe if I don't look directly at it, it isn't happening, right? I don't know how clean they're going to get with just water, but it'll definitely be an improvement.

  I hear one of the dragon-men walk away behind me, but I ignore the sound, focusing on getting my task done as quickly as possible. Until I see Fire on the other side of the water. I frown, watching as he crouches down and reaches into it, scraping at something with his hand. What is he doing?

  I pause, watching as he circles back around, a purple and green-flecked piece of something in his hand. He brings it right over to me, crouching down and offering it to me with encouraging eyes. I look at the moss-like thing and then look up at him, at a loss. Seeing that, he moves his hand over to the cloth in my hand and mimes rubbing it onto it.

  "To clean?" I ask curiously, taking the soft moss in my hand. "Thank you," I say politely, not knowing if it’s actually going to do anything. Or just make my clothes mossy. It does smell nice though, like a light, slightly green perfume.

  But the magic happens when I scrub it on the suit. Gentle suds appear almost immediately.

  "Soap!" I exclaim, grinning at Fire as I scrub with renewed vigor. "Oh, thank you! Now I can really get them clean!"

  He smiles back, looking extremely pleased with himself at my excitement. Then he shoots Danger a smug look as he stands back up, the other dragon-man growling softly. I ignore the posturing as I scrub at the sweat stains, happy to see them dissipating. I can't mediate between the two of them effectively, so I've decided not paying attention to it is the best option for now.

  I reach up to smooth my hair away from my face with my forearm, my breath coming in pants from even just this much physical activity. A wave of exhaustion hits me again, like an old, relentless enemy that just refuses to go away. I feel drained and weak as I dip the clothing to rinse it off, trying to at least finish this small task before I have to give into it again.

  Then the nausea hits me, the sun's harsh rays making it worse. A floating sensation hits me as I start to list to the side. I realize vaguely that I've been out too long in my weakened state.

  I'm going to pass out.

  I can feel it.

  As I start to topple over onto the sand, everything fading at the edges, I catch a glimpse of Danger's and Fire's panicked faces, both of them lunging to catch me. But I have no idea if they manage to because everything goes black.

  12

  I wake up knowing something is off. The bed is soft underneath me and my palm is resting on fur, which helps orient me. Everything rushes back painfully and I realize I must be on the pallet in my small cave. Danger and Fire must have carried me back after I fainted. How embarrassing. I shouldn't have pushed myself so hard. I should know better by now.

  I open my eyes, still feeling achy and slightly nauseated. Did I finish washing my clothes? If I didn’t, I cannot walk back to the oasis as sore and sick as I feel right now. That'll have to be a goal for another day then.

  As my eyes focus, I also realize I'm not alone. A wall of muscled, tense looking dragon-men stand around me, peering down at me in concern. I do a quick check of my body and sigh in relief. They put my clothes back on me. That was really considerate. All right, I can deal with this.

  "Sorry," I mu
rmur, trying a small smile as they all watch me. "I'm fine now," I lie. Though lying doesn't do much good when they can't even understand what I'm saying.

  Emerald moves to grab something from Mikhos, who frowns but doesn't resist or say anything. Lowering himself next to me, Emerald slides his arm under my shoulders to help me sit upright. I take a deep breath as I try to help as much as I can, my body even weaker than before. I'm going downhill fast. There's no denying it. I let my head fall onto Emerald's shoulder for support, which is about the best I can do in my current state.

  He holds up the thing he took from Mikhos and I realize it's some kind of plant, a delicate strand of pretty green leaves. Emerald brings it to his mouth and pretends to eat it before holding it out to me again.

  "You want me to eat it?" I ask dubiously, staring at the plant.

  When I look up at the others, they're all watching me expectantly. I can almost feel them all willing me to eat the thing. I look back at the plant. It doesn't look like a vegetable or an herb, but they must want me to eat it for some reason. Maybe it's medicine of some kind? Something for the heat?

  Mentally shrugging, I take the plant. I doubt it can make me feel worse than I already do. Bracing myself for its taste and whatever effect it might have on me, I take a bite while they all watch, tearing off a section and chewing it carefully.

  The texture is . . . leafy. No surprise there.

  The taste though . . . A slightly sour, spicy flavor bursts into my mouth, sending an oddly cooling feeling through my body. What? I eat some more of it, my eyes widening as my aches, my headache, my stomachache, all of my physical woes simply fade away.