Hip Deep in Dragons

by Christina Westcott

  I rolled my eyes to the side, watching death gallop toward us, but now it seemed to move slowly, as if it, too, was trapped in that viscous fluid. The fountains of mud thrown up in its wake pirouetted in the air and drifted to the ground like falling ashes. Green droplets sprayed from the dragon’s mouth and hung in the sunlight like ichorous crystals.

  The cadence of Robby’s words changed, and the atmosphere solidified into a transparent cocoon pressing in on us. The world beyond the invisible barrier flowed and distorted like an image seen from the bottom of a murky pool. My lungs burned, as I tried to drag the gelatinous air past his fingers. Robby’s hand slipped from my mouth and eased down to my shoulder. As he pressed me against his chest, I could feel his hands shaking. Fear, fatigue, or both?

  Stretched beyond its breaking point, the temporal flow snapped back to its normal pace with a crack I felt inside my head. The dragon surged toward us, a green and black tsunami. As it reached our side of the pond, the beast slid to a stop, and reared back on its hind legs. It lashed its tail like a wet cat, flattening vegetation and sending up sprays of mud. The long, sinuous neck stretched out, bringing the creature’s snout down to sniff the spot where I had stood mere seconds ago. It huffed out a cloud of greenish vapor. The grasses touched by the venomous mist withered, blackening and turning to ash.

  The beast lifted its muzzle, yellow eyes sweeping in puzzlement, searching for its lost prey. The huge head swung closer, and I tensed, certain it would collide with our invisible shield. Closer still it came, until I could see the texture of the skin on its face, a pebbly mosaic of green and black in a tracery of stripes and whorls. Fleshy black barbels writhed on its snout, disturbing the cloud of flies drawn to the gore-encrusted mouth.

  Shakagwa Dun lifted its head, searched the area again, and roared its anger and frustration. The sound reached me as a vibration against the walls of our invisible shield. The dragon turned and shambled back through the trail of broken grass, stopping to look rearward between the spires of its folded wings several times before returning to its interrupted meal.

  I felt Robby’s breath against my cheek. “Follow my lead, Laura. We are going to ease away from here.” As I took a step, his arms tightened about me. “Slowly—very slowly. The spell is harder to hold while we move. Do not talk, do not even breathe more than necessary.”

  A headache pounded behind my eyes, keeping time with my pulse.

  We inched away with interminable slowness, freezing each time the dragon lifted its head. Once out of its sight, Robby released me and I felt the spell dissipate in a spangle of light. He staggered, leaned over with his hands on his knees and panted. “That really…takes it…out of you,” he gasped between breaths. When he rose to face me, a storm brewed behind his pale eyes.

  “What are you doing here, Laura?”

  I turned his question away with one of my own. “Are you okay, Robby? You look…tired.” I wanted to say awful, but opted for diplomacy. His clothes were torn and covered with mud. Twigs and burrs stuck to his hair. The darkness underneath his eyes was not dirt, but exhaustion. He looked like a man who’d put in a rough and sleepless forty-eight hours and saw no hope of respite in the future.

  “I saw you from the other side of the lake, but I had to race all the way around to get to you. I ran like all the fire sprites in Hell were after me, but I feared I would never make it in time. I threw up that temporal distortion spell to slow the bloody great worm down long enough to come up with a concealing glamor that would stand up to it sniffing around. The Veil of Saint Caraketis is useful for hiding inanimate things, but not living beings who need to breathe. The Veil is impermeable. No oxygen in, no carbon dioxide out. If we were forced to stay in there much longer, we would have been in danger of passing out.”

  He ran his hands over his hair, dislodging a few leaves. “You must have used some kind of vehicle to get out here. Where is it?”

  I gestured. “The Jeep’s back that way a bit, in a stand of trees.”

  With a hand tight around my upper arm, he propelled me along the trail. “We need to put a little distance between us and that beastie. When we get to your Jeep, you are going to drive out of here as fast as you can and wait for me at your house. I shall have to try and distract it while you flee.”

  “You’re mad at me?”

  He snorted. “Aye, a bit, but more I was afraid. If I had let something happen to you, after I had only just found you again…” His voice trailed off, and his hand slid down my arm to twine around my fingers.

  I squeezed back. “I wanted to thank you. For giving me back the memories of that summer.”

  “I never agreed with what he did. I knew you would not tell a soul.”

  “Did you get in a lot of trouble?”

  “Aye, that I did. For two seasons I had to do all my chores without the use of magic, which meant cleaning out the barn with a pitchfork and sweeping the tower like a scullery maid. My master said it built character. And muscles. He kept me so busy with my studies over the next few years that I could never slip away, but as soon as he began sending me out on the Road on little errands, I would sneak into Vayron and check on you.”

  “I never saw you.”

  “You were not supposed to. Then one day you were gone, away to college a neighbor said. You were going on with your life, so I decided it was time for me to do the same. I had not been back to Naples since, not until I tracked Shakagwa Dun here. Last night, I was hurt and needed a place to rest and heal. Then I discovered my footsteps had carried me to that Gate behind your house. I promised myself that I would be gone in the morning, but when I saw you…” His words trailed off, and he shook his head. “Perhaps involving you was not the wisest thing I could have done.”

  “Don’t think you’ve cornered the market on stupid moves. I can imagine what my dad would have said about me taking off into the glades alone, without letting anyone know where I was going.”

  He helped me scramble over the fallen tree and we walked the last few feet to the Jeep in silence. He leaned against the door and scrubbed his hands over his face. The ratty green scrunchie still circled his wrist.

  I wanted to reach out, to brush the muddy lock of dark hair from his face, but I twisted my fingers together instead. “You’re exhausted. This is all my fault.”

  “No, Laura. Weaving those incantations in this world is like swimming through treacle.” His lips smiled but the pale eyes were dull and lifeless.

  “But you wouldn’t have had to work that last spell if you hadn’t needed to protect me. I should have stayed home—like you told me to.”

  He pulled me against him, resting his chin on the top of head. “As I recall, you were never good at listening to anything I told you.”

  “Yeah, I was always the instigator, the headstrong one who got us into trouble, wasn’t I?” The memories came back, all the more sweet and poignant for having been lost all those years. I snuggled my face into his chest, drinking in the smell of him—wild lands and sunshine. Was this what magic smelled like?

  “What do we do now?” I asked.

  “We are doing nothing. You will get in the Jeep and drive home as swiftly as possible while I deal with Shakagwa Dun and its brood.”

  A shriek like a manic calliope echoed across the swamp, shocking every bird, bug, and animal into silence, and raising the hair on the back of my neck. Robby jerked around toward the eerie sound’s source, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip.

  I captured his chin, and turned his face back to mine. “You’re exhausted. Come home with me tonight. I have my mother’s recipe for lasagna. As I recall, you were quite fond of that when you stayed for dinner. You can get some rest and start out fresh in the morning.”

  “Nay, Laura, I could not. If I were to spend the night under the same roof as you, rest is one thing I fear I would not be getting.” Heat kindled in the celadon depths of his eyes. An answering fire exploded in my belly, spangling upward like fireworks to burst inside my head.

 
; He studied me as if he could see those sparklers behind my eyes. Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me, softly at first, but then passion fanned those sparks into an edgy inferno. He tightened his embrace, and fitted our bodies together like two pieces of a puzzle clicking into one. Too soon, he lifted his lips and cradled my head against his chest. I could hear the rhythmic pounding of his heart along with that curious, buzzing rumble in his throat.

  He whispered, his lips stirring fine hairs against my forehead. “All those years, I told myself you were only a childhood playmate, that what I felt for you was little more than friendship. Even when I came back to Vayron, watching you from a distance, I still thought it only harmless childhood memories, but many a night on a cold trail, I fantasized about you. When I saw you yesterday, I knew what I felt went far beyond casual feelings. That’s why I ran at first, afraid that if you smiled at me, I would never be able to walk away. But in the end, I could not do it, I needed to see you once more face to face. ’Tis foolish but…”

  That eerie wail split the stillness again, silencing him. I felt his heart accelerate. When he pulled back, his green eyes were as flat and cool as polished agate. “You have to leave. Now.”

  Over the treetops, a vast, dark shape lifted, wings beating the air. Robby muttered a growling litany. Motes of light whirled around his upraised hand as he worked an incantation to hide us. The unnatural silence stretched on, as if the world feared to make a noise. Then the dragon turned eastward, its wing beats receding in the distance as it flew deeper into the glades.

  The spell dissolved around us. Robby took my elbow and pulled me to the door of the Jeep. “You have to get out now. This may be the only time I have to get to the nest and destroy it. When Shakagwa Dun has no reason to stay here on this world, it will return to Mycon, and I can close the Gate it came through. While I do that, I need to know that you are safe and far away from this danger.”

  “But what if the thing comes back while you’re at the nest? Will you have enough magic to face it, too?”

  “I do not see as I have much of a choice.” He looked away, but not before I saw apprehension flickering far back in his eyes. He was, I recalled, only an apprentice wizard.

  “The chocolate.” I suddenly remembered that bag of candy. “Will that help?”

  His grin was sheepish. “Aye, it would have. If I had not already gobbled it all up.”

  “But I have more.” I twisted out of his grip and dashed to the back of the Jeep, opening the tailgate and flipping up the lid on the cooler to expose sandwiches and fruit. From the tote, I produced several bags of potato chips and a handful of energy bars.

  “Will this help?”

  I was heartened by the twinkle in his eyes as he ripped open the chip bag. He answered me between mouthfuls. “Aye, this helps somewhat, but with no ambient magic in this world to call upon, I shall be limited to only the energy inside me, and I fear I will burn through that quickly. I canna eat enough to fuel more than a few workings.”

  He grabbed a sandwich and stacked the ice chest and tote bag on the ground. “Leave these with me, but you have to go now.”

  With the cooler out of the back, I noticed the gas can lashed against the inside of the Jeep with a bungee cord.

  “What if you could destroy the nest without using magic?”

  He glanced up from his half eaten sandwich. “Laura, why do I get the feeling you are trying to talk me into something I know I will regret?”

  Chapter Six

  Elongated by the late afternoon sun, our shadows stretched ahead of us as we struggled along the game trail, the can of gasoline slung between us. Mud squelched beneath my boots, and burrs snatched at my legs as we pushed through the grass. Robby halted again, forcing us to put down our burden so he could scrub his hand against his thigh, as if the touch of the metal irritated his skin. He picked up his side of the can again and we continued.

  “This comes perilously close to violating the Accords against using technology,” he said.

  “I don’t see why.” I defended my argument for what felt like the tenth time. “Don’t they make metal containers in your world?”

  “Oh, aye, ’tis not the can, but how the thing was created—in a soulless factory by equally soulless machines. And you canna tell me that the petrol inside ’tis natural, either.”

  “But fire is only fire in any world.”

  “Aye, and I could set a blaze to that nest with my magic. I do not need your petrol. Or you putting yourself in danger to help me.”

  I’d stuffed the box of matches in my pocket and the flare gun into my waistband to made sure he wouldn’t need to waste his talent on anything as simple as lighting a fire. “But after last night’s rainstorm, that pile of muck will be so wet it might take too much of your magic to get it burning without the help of some kind of accelerant. You have to save all the power you can to face the dragon.”

  If the magical strength available to him was proportionate to the calories he’d consumed, Robby wouldn’t have a problem overcoming the beast. He’d munched through two bags of chips and all the fruit and sandwiches. He finished up the last of the energy bars as we walked, his long legs striding so quickly that I had to scurry to keep up. All that food must go straight to fuel his magic, because there wasn’t a hint of fat on his hard thighs or chiseled abdomen. Like a battery, he was charged up, and moving with a fluid grace, but as soon as he tapped into that power, I was afraid he’d burn through it quickly.

  He stopped again, this time massaging his fingers to restore circulation. “I do not understand why I allow you to talk me into these insane stunts. I have faced revenants on the Wizard’s Road and pitted my will against demons, but I have been back with you for less than a day, and I am like a foolish school boy, willing to follow you into another crazy adventure. Like the time you convinced me to help you put Tommy Hanson’s bicycle on his garage roof.”

  I laughed at the memory, a memory that only yesterday I couldn’t recall. I’d always been the mischief-maker—nothing mean or destructive, just fun stuff. Childish pranks. And Robby had always been willing to follow me. It seemed impossible that I had forgotten that impish girl and grown into a responsible—boring—adult.

  I smiled at him with that crooked little grin that always melted his resistance. “But wasn’t it worth it to see the look on Fat Tommy’s face when he tried to explain to his father how the bike got up there?”

  Robby only snorted in replay as he resumed walking.

  I spied the line of vegetation that marked the edge of the slough. “Are you sure the dragon hasn’t returned?”

  “Aye, but as soon as that bloody great worm sees the fire, it will rush back to protect its brood. If you are not well away by then…” He shook his head and extended a hand. “Give me the matches.”

  “No. This was my idea. I’m going to see it through to the end.”

  “Laura.” A growl lay beneath the word.

  “What are you going to do, force me? Take over my body and make me leave?”

  “I could…”

  “But you won’t.” I saw anger simmering in his eyes, and behind that, a power flickered, so intense it raised the hair on the back of my neck. This wasn’t a childhood playmate, but an honest to goodness wizard, who had faced threats I probably couldn’t even imagine. Before I lost my nerve, I pushed through the palm fronds, pulling Robby behind me.

  The carrion stench battered against my senses like a physical wall. I bit my tongue to force down a gag. My eyes closed, I sucked shallow breaths through my mouth, and tried to remember why I had thought this was such a good idea.

  “’Tis clear now, but we must make haste,” Robby said, scanning the sky.

  I nodded my agreement.

  The gas can slung between us, we waded into the slough. At first, the dark water came only to my calves, then my knees. It seeped into my boots, and soaked my socks. My feet slipped, threatening to twist my ankles with every step.

  Dragging through the wate
r, the can seemed to grow heavier and harder to maneuver, forcing me to use both hands and shuffle sideways. My foot caught on a submerged branch—at least I hoped it was a branch and not a gator lurking in the mud. I splashed down in a clumsy face-plant, getting a mouthful of murky water. The can tumbled on top of me, dragging Robby down with it. He struggled to his feet, pulled me against him, and wrapped his arms around me until my spasm of coughing passed. A trickle of energy flowed out of his hands, seeping into all my empty places and shoring up my reservoir of strength. I wanted to tell him to stop, to save every erg of his power, but the warmth coiling through my body felt so amazing I only wanted to bask in its glow forever. Eventually, I looked up.

  “Better now, Laura?” He brushed his thumbs across my grimy cheeks.

  I coughed one last time, scanning around for the telltale sign of a gator gliding through the water, and then I picked up my side of the can. We resumed our floundering progress. At the narrow sandy strip boarding the hammock, we picked our way through the scattering of bones around the nest and put down the can.

  Lips thinning in distaste, Robby spun the cap off with a quick twist. He scrambled up the mound, tipped the container, and soaked the vegetation in gasoline. He slid back down and saturated the edge of the nest with the remaining liquid. The vapors from the gasoline rippled up, distorting the air and stinging my eyes.

  Robby tossed away the empty can. “The matches?”

  I dug into my pocket and pulled out the plastic bag that contained the matches. Droplets of brown water accumulated at the bottom. I hadn’t double-checked the seal. An iron weight settled in my stomach. “They’re wet.”