Hip Deep in Dragons

by Christina Westcott

“Nay, more often than not, ’tis only an errant beastie that has wandered through an improperly closed Gate. A troll or a roc, giving rise to all those reports of strange creatures like a bigfoot or chupacabra. Or, as in this case, a dragon. I fear it shall not be easy to rid your world of this particular dragon. If it has already laid its eggs, as I suspect, no amount of trickery or reasoning will work on it. If I am forced to destroy the nest, I wager Shakagwa Dun will be more interested in seeking vengeance than returning to Mycon to mate again. So I fear there is nothing for it but to slay the bloody great worm.”

  “Slay a dragon?” I echoed. “You have some kind of magic sword or a helmet that makes you invisible?”

  “Nay. Only my magic.”

  “So you’ve done this kind of thing before?”

  “Nay.” He drew the word out and his face took on a sheepish grin. He shuffled his feet. “But I have read Sir Giles du Iverson’s journals on dragon slaying and Master Maksaminko’s treatise on Offensive Magic and the Lesser Drakes. They should stand me in good stead when I face it.”

  “Fat lot of good those books did you.” I reached out and grabbed the side of his torn and bloody shirt. A part of my brain made the connection between the location of that damage and the wounds on the cat, but I shied away from the conclusion I reached. “It did this, didn’t it? You tangled with the dragon last night, and you came out second best.”

  He twisted out of my grip and returned to the kitchen to retrieve his pack and staff. “The beastie took me unaware. I was not prepared. This time, I will be ready.”

  I stormed around him and planted myself in his path. “And this time, it’ll be ready for you.” I waved my hand toward the television that still prattled the morning news. “We’ll call Mr. Good Ole Boy’s Pest Removal Service. I’ll bet he’s got enough firepower hanging in the back window of his pickup alone to blow that dragon into the middle next week.”

  “Nay. No one else must learn of this, and I am beginning to think I made a mistake in coming back here and getting you involved.”

  “Well, I’m in it now, up to my eyebrows, and if you think I’m going to let you go charging out there all by yourself and get your head bitten off by some hormonally deranged dragon, you’d better think again. Just let me put on some jeans, and I’ll drive. I know a couple places on the way where I might be able to borrow a hunting rifle or two.”

  As I turned, he grabbed my shoulders and twisted me back to face him. “Nay, Laura. I have to do this my way and you…” He waggled one admonishing finger under my nose. “You have to give me your oath that you will not go anywhere near that dragon.”

  I started to protest, but he waved me to silence. “Promise me?” When I nodded my agreement, he continued. “Have a little faith in my abilities.”

  “I’d rather put my faith in Remington or Winchester.”

  “Don’t depend so much on your world’s technology. A dragon’s hide is nigh unto impenetrable, with only small vulnerabilities at the throat and eyes. Even your Mr. Good Ole Boy would be hard pressed to make that shot with a full grown dragon bearing down on him.”

  He stood with his hands on my shoulders, gazing into my eyes. “I should leave now.” He shook himself, turned to swing his backpack onto one shoulder, and picked up his staff. As he passed the kitchen table, he lifted his coffee cup and drained the cold contents.

  “You didn’t finish your breakfast.” I indicated the congealed remains of the omelet on the plate. “Didn’t you say you need to eat a lot of food to give you the energy to do your job? Would that be the wizardy stuff? Does it take a lot of energy to work magic?”

  “Aye, working magic is like doing any physical task, only perhaps a bit more demanding…particularly in a place like this where there is so little ambient magic to draw upon. After only a few incantations, I am as hungry as if I had been chopping wood all day. I guess that is why you never see any portly wizards.”

  “Wizardry burns calories? Well, sign me up. I’ve got a few pounds I’d like to lose.” I patted my hips.

  “Nay, Laura, you are beautiful just the way you are.” As he smiled, his eyes darkened and warmed.

  I felt that green gaze caress my body like spring sunshine, soft and warm, and I had to look away. The heat seeped through my skin, sinking through muscle and bone to settle deep inside me in a secret spot I’d never allowed another to enter. From there, it radiated out to envelop me in a muzzy glow that made the tips of my fingers tingle. My lungs fought to draw breath through my tight throat, and my mouth was so dry only a squeak issued from my lips when I tried to speak. I looked up to face him, and the moment was broken. Once again his eyes were pale and cool with only a trace of melancholy in their depths.

  Had I been mistaken? Had I only imagined the passion I’d seen in the eyes of this stranger standing in my kitchen, this chimera of a man who’d strayed into my life scant hours ago and turned my entire concept of reality on its head?

  I cleared my throat, hoping my voice didn’t sound as unsteady to him as it did to my ears. “I’ve got just what you need.” When he quirked one eyebrow, I hastened to clarify, “In the cupboard, uh, I’ll just get it.”

  I located the stepstool so I could reach the top shelf, relieved to hide the flush that climbed up my face and surged all the way out to my ears. On the high shelf, I pushed aside the cases of cat food and cans of tomato sauce and vegetables to locate the cellophane bag.

  “I only allow myself two of these a day, so I hide them up here, where it’s hard to get to them, otherwise I’d probably eat the whole bag in one sitting.” I climbed down and handed him the giant, economy-sized bag of miniature chocolate bars…milk, dark, and my favorite, white.

  “An instant energy boost,” I said, warming at the enormous smile that wreathed his face. A sudden thought occurred to me. “You can eat chocolate, can’t you? I know it’s bad for cats.”

  “Aye, indeed I do, but ’tis rare and expensive in my homeland,” he said, laughing. “So this is a princely gift. With this much chocolate I could bribe half the dwarves in Marzinia.”

  “Maybe you could get them to help you with the dragon?”

  “Would that I could. There has been a longstanding enmity between the dwarven folk and dragons…something to do with a stolen treasure, as I recall. And, while they would do almost anything for chocolate, I would prefer they did not get a close look at your technology. Dwarven smiths are very clever when it comes to copying mechanical things, and we already have enough trouble with them skirting around the rules of the Accords.”

  He tucked the bag of chocolate into his pack then settled it on his back. For a moment, I thought he was going to say something else, but instead he turned and walked out the kitchen door. I followed him, unable to shake the feeling that I was trapped aboard a great, cosmic engine rushing headlong toward disaster, and there was nothing I could do to stop it or change its course.

  The back porch had been added to the house some years after it had been built, so it was a step down from the rest of the structure. When he turned to face me, our eyes were level. I leaned against the edge of the door, my arms wrapped around my chest. The air flowing in from outside was humid and heavy with the scent of the gardenia bushes blooming by the steps. A blue jay squawked from a back yard tree, the neighbor’s Yorkie barked at a squirrel, and in the distance, a lawn mower droned. In many ways, it was a typical summer day in Florida, but I was seeing a wizard off to do battle with a dragon. An apprentice wizard, I reminded myself. One who’d never before faced a dragon.

  “I wish you’d reconsider letting me bring in more firepower.”

  He shook his head. “I must do this my way.”

  “I guess it would have been too much to expect that men from a parallel universe would be any less hard-headed than men from this world. You will come back and give me all the gory details about how you kicked that old dragon’s behind, won’t you?”

  “If I can.”

  I translated that to mean, if I’m still a
live.

  “And if you don’t? I’m not supposed to know any of this, so there won’t be a brownie or elf or some other mythical being showing up on my doorstep saying, ‘We’re sorry to inform you, but your wizard isn’t coming home’. What am I supposed to do? Just wait a year, and if I notice dragons roosting on the roof of the mall then I’ll know you’re dea…” I couldn’t force the word out through my locked throat. My vision blurred with the tears clouding my eyes.

  “It will not come to that, Laura. If I fail, another guardian will follow and complete the task I started. The Accords require…”

  “I don’t care about your Accords,” I shouted. “Or your magical road or your bloody dragons. I care about you.”

  His gaze shifted away from mine, as if he suddenly found something more interesting to study at his feet, and he stood that way as time stretched on. When he looked up at me, his eyes were haunted. “I was wrong for involving you in this, Laura. I did not think… Hades, I never think. Perhaps Master Procyon Bey was correct. I am but a foolish, impulsive idiot.”

  I started to protest, but he forestalled my comments with an upraised hand. “I should never have come back here. I did not mean to cause you this pain, but I can do something about it.” He reached out to touch my face, and I could see tiny spangles of light dancing around his fingertips.

  “’Tis but a slight variant of a do-not-look-here spell. It will not take away the memories; only make them hard to see. Your mind will just slide over them, not acknowledging their existence.”

  I fought down a rising panic, backpedaling from his innocent action. “Don’t you dare,” I snapped, the words far harsher than I’d intended. Robby recoiled as if I’d slapped him. I shook myself and went on, now under control. “The idea of someone, anyone, messing around with my memories terrifies me. I don’t know why. Guess it’s just one of my little idiosyncrasies.”

  He cocked his head at me, his smile sad. “You know you will never be able to speak to a living soul about this.”

  “I understand. Besides, who’d believe me? Nowadays, with all the alien abductions and end of the world prophecies, I’d be considered just your average, run of the mill nut job. People would roll their eyes and say, ‘Here comes that weird dragon woman again.’ Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

  “Then it is time I take my leave of you, Laura Chambers. May you always walk in Bast’s shadow, milady.” He gave another of his half bows.

  “You be careful, Robert of Starhollow, and come back to me.” I inclined my head, thinking it would be a bit ridiculous to curtsy in a pair of ragged sweats.

  He turned to leave but stopped. He squared his shoulders before he spun to face me again. His pack slipped to the porch, the staff clattering after it. He crossed the distance between us in quick steps and captured my face between his hands. His mouth came down on mine, softly at first, questioningly, but when my lips responded, his kiss deepened. My heart raced as his tongue stroked my lips, requesting entry, and I opened myself to him, my soul welcoming him inside.

  His fingertips explored my face and tangled in my hair, sending shivers of pleasure through my blood and along every nerve until I felt as if I were made of liquid fire. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling myself closer, tighter, until I could feel the rhythm of his heart against my body. My heart answered, matching his beat for beat, until they pounded together as one. Beneath that throbbing, I heard a low rumble in his throat that seemed to rise and fall with his ragged breathing.

  Far too soon for me, he broke the kiss, but his lips hovered over mine so that I could feel as well as hear the softly murmured phrases. I understood only my name in the strings of strange words, but they sounded enchanting. His next words I understood all too well.

  “I must go.” He didn’t move, but studied my features as if memorizing every line, every curve, as he gently brushed the tendrils of hair from my face that his kneading fingers had loosened. He unraveled my ponytail, holding up the ratty green scrunchie as if it were a hard won prize. He slipped it over his scarred knuckles to rest around his wrist.

  “I shall wear your token into battle, milady.”

  “And you’d better bring it back, Sir Knight.”

  “Oh, aye, that I will.” He rested his head against mine, our noses brushing and breath mingling. Starting with my forehead, his lips traced a moist path of kisses over my eyes, down my nose, across my cheeks, to finally recapture my mouth tenderly. He drew back reluctantly.

  “I really must go,” he repeated.

  His fingers caressed the side of my face. From the corner of my vision I caught a flash of colored light and then felt a snap like a spark of static electricity. I stepped back.

  “What did you do?” I demanded, searching my memory frantically. It all appeared intact: the cat, the dragon, and the wizard sharing my morning cup of coffee. But if he had tampered with my memories, would I have been able to tell? “You didn’t…?”

  His fingers stilled my lips. “Nay, I took from you nothing. Only gave you a gift.”

  “A gift? I don’t understand.”

  “You will. When you remember.”

  Stepping back, he shouldered his pack and extended his hand. His staff lifted off the floor and flew obediently into his grip.

  I laughed. “Show off.”

  He favored me with a lopsided grin, then pushed his way out the screen door. He crossed the backyard, but when he reached the driveway, instead of turning right to go out to the road, he turned left and followed the sidewalk around the garage to the pergola hung with magenta bougainvillea vines. As he stepped into the shady archway, I noticed the fingers of his upraised hand move in a complicated gesture, shedding tiny sparkles of light. He took another step. And disappeared.

  I started. He hadn’t simply stepped behind the wall of vines; he’d vanished, as if he’d walked through an invisible door. Not a door, I corrected myself, but a Gate. A Gate on the Wizard’s Road. The way into another world.

  I raced out the door and across the yard, the cool grass brushing the bottoms of my bare feet. The damp tracks of his boots were visible on the concrete until they reached the arch, and then they simply stopped. I followed that trail, and as I stepped into the vine-hung shade, the hair on my arms rose and goose flesh prickled my skin. Faintly, I caught a scent not unlike that of an ancient cathedral, shuttered and empty for centuries, a musty smell that spoke of primordial vastness. But nothing else happened. Disappointed, I turned and walked out of the arbor, wondering why it all seemed so familiar to me.

  Then I remembered.

  Chapter Four

  I had known almost from the first day that Bob the kitten and my new playmate Robby were one and the same. I understood that the boy could turn himself into a cat with that easy belief in the impossible that was common to all twelve year olds. It happened in all the books I read, why shouldn’t it happen to me?

  The neighbors remarked how cute it was to see me riding my bike to the library with the kitten running along beside me. When we reached our destination, Bob found an out of the way spot to transform, and Robby accompanied me inside to pick out his books. I read tales of wondrous worlds and mythical creatures, but he picked out books on cars or airplanes or science…boy stuff.

  It was my love of wondrous creatures that eventually got us into trouble.

  I listened to Robby’s tales of his world, but accepted his warning that I could never go there—that was, until he told me about the unicorns. More than anything else, I wanted to see unicorns, so I probably pestered him entirely too much about it.

  It was a stifling hot August the tenth. The next day was my birthday, the day I turned thirteen and my world changed. We sat on the back doorstep savoring the cherry Popsicles my mother gave us. Robby whispered that he had a special treat for my birthday. He would take me to meet a unicorn.

  “I canna take you to Mycon. Master Procyon Bey would know about it if I did, and we would both get in a lot a trouble. He probably would no longer al
low me to come see you. I can get you onto the Road, though, without anyone finding out, and Esmeralda is waiting outside the Gate in Mycon. I can sneak her through, and the two of you can meet right there on the Road. You will like Esmeralda. She is really cool. For a unicorn.”

  I squealed. “Robby, that’s the bestest birthday gift anyone could give me. A real unicorn.”

  He clasped my sticky hand and led me to the pergola. My father had just finished building it, and the bougainvillea bushes were small and newly planted. Standing in the archway, Robby did wizardy stuff, said magic words, and waved his hand, making sparkly lights in the air that I thought were so pretty.

  He urged me forward and we stepped into…nothing.

  It was a vast and empty expanse, not so much light as the absence of darkness. There were no walls, no ceiling, only a surface beneath my feet, hidden by a colorless mist that flowed and eddied around my ankles. It smelled like the old used book store, the one with the back room where there was no air conditioning, and the really old books were stacked in cardboard boxes. Although no breeze stirred my hair, I felt currents, a soundless singing moving across my outstretched hands.

  I wiggled my fingers. “What is this?”

  “That is magic,” he whispered. “Arising from the Source and flowing out along the Road.”

  “I don’t see any road,” I said, my voice soft. Whispering seemed appropriate in that place.

  “’Tis there. I can see, but you probably canna, so you have to hang onto my hand so you do not get lost.” He clutched my cherry stained fingers tighter. “My master went to help a farmer in Anders Ford with a sick cow. He will not be back for hours.”

  The emptiness before us parted and a thin old man stepped through. The boy stopped so quickly, I plowed into him. He pushed me behind him, situating himself between me and his master.

  “Robert,” the wizard said. “What are you doing? I forgot my satchel and came back for it. I wondered by Esmeralda was standing by the Gate with such a guilty look on her face.”