Dragon War

by Shay Roberts

  I nod, reaching into my bottomless pouch for the thin sheet of glass with no markings. I hand over the device.

  Southam swipes the pad and it fills with an image, like paint spurting inside the glass. “I’m using my credentials to access your entrance examination. It’s a verbal test. You can speak your answers into the pad. By morning, we’ll have a customized curriculum for you.”

  He returns the pad. “You may begin. I have other matters that require my attention. I’ll return in two hours.”

  Southam gets to his feet, a slow process with his braced legs and dual canes.

  “Professor Southam, after the test, I need to talk to you about some anachronists.”

  He raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “Of course, young man.”

  We exchange nods as he departs, then I look down at the pad and see a pleasant woman with a neutral face.

  “Hello, Tyler, are you ready to begin?”

  “Are you real?”

  She responds as she did before. “Hello, Tyler, are you ready to begin?”

  I guess that answers my question.

  “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

  Her face remains neutral. “Hello, Tyler, are you ready to begin?”

  “Yes!”

  “Excellent, Tyler, let’s begin. Our first module explores your knowledge of agriculture and animal husbandry, important to know when traveling in certain time periods.”

  I am so gonna fail this test. They’ll probably put me back in kindergarten.

  Son of Lionheart

  TYLER BUCK

  It’s light outside by the time I’m through with the test. I should be tired, but instead I’m wired and worried. I didn’t do well on the test. I didn’t even understand some of the questions.

  I shouldn’t have skipped college to become a treasure hunter. These people are expecting great things from me, and I don’t know if I can deliver.

  I shove the glasspad into my pouch, hoping I’ll never see it again. I hate that blank-faced computerized woman and her stupid questions.

  Somewhere, I smell delicious food cooking. Maybe bacon and pancakes. I suddenly realize how hungry I am.

  Southam returns, wearing a sympathetic smile, and slowly eases himself into the chair across from me.

  I manage a sour grin. “When you see my score, you’ll send me packing.”

  “Your pad has already sent me the results. My aides are developing your curriculum. You placed well on temporal applications but need a little work elsewhere. Classes are already in session for this term, but with some tutoring, we can get you up to speed. By the way, my compliments to whoever taught you time travel. You know as much as our blue students. You just need to learn a little more about constructs. You clearly have an aptitude for them.”

  “Fenfang taught me time travel. She encouraged me to join the Academy.”

  “Fenfang? Is she a Hwedoist?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting. They’re not exactly … supportive of our mission.”

  A male student in a blue class uniform enters the library with a huge tray of food. He balances it across the armrests of my chair.

  My mouth waters as I see a bounty of scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes, orange juice, hash browns, and coffee.

  I want to bury my face in it, but Southam hasn’t been served yet.

  He gestures for me to eat. “Please, you must be famished. I’ve already eaten.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I inhale an entire bacon strip and things get kinda hazy after that. In mere minutes, there’s nothing left but a few crumbs. I’m not sure, but I think I actually licked the plate.

  I wipe my mouth, trying to catch my breath, and glance up at Southam.

  He has an amused grin. “What a spectacular display of appetite. There’s more, if you like.”

  “I’m good, thanks. Sorry. Don’t know what got into me there.”

  “The Jurassic era can have that effect. We suspect it’s because the oxygen level is lower. No worries, though, your body will soon adjust. Are you certain I can’t get you more to eat? We still have a few minutes before your campus guide arrives.”

  I shake my head. “Pretty sure I can last until lunch. But hey, before the guide gets here, I need to talk to you about the anachronists.”

  Southam gestures for the server to leave. I thank the blue student as he takes my tray and exits the library.

  I watch the tray as it disappears from sight. The truth is, I’m still hungry. I really want to take dragon form and hunt. But this isn’t the time or place.

  Southam’s expression shows some concern. “Please, Tyler, tell me what’s on your mind.”

  With my feeding high fading, I wipe away the stray crumbs and lean forward in my chair.

  “When I became a dracoform, I began training at the Aido-Hwedo temple in Ethiopia, in the year 540 CE. I was finishing my work there, in 542, when we were attacked by two men in modern helmets and body armor, carrying rifles. They had name tags on their armor. I killed one named Snedeker, but the one named Argyros got away. For some reason, I couldn’t hurt him. It was like his skin was made of stone. He escaped by time traveling.”

  Southam’s face grows grave. “Did these men speak to you? Do you know what they wanted?”

  “We never spoke. As far as I can tell, they just wanted to wipe us out. My mentors believe they were Knights of Rome. We moved to 749 to avoid them.”

  The professor looks puzzled and disturbed. “Very strange. The Knights of Rome are not time travelers. And if they wanted to kill you, they would have attacked in greater numbers. This feels more like a splinter group, or someone posing as KoR. In any case, I’ll need to take this to the attaché. He may wish to question you further.”

  “Wait, Zulien? Why him? He hates me.”

  “This is SA business, and he’s the voice of SA on this campus.”

  “Is he your boss?”

  “No. He’s a deputy director in Specta Aeternal. Their agents act to protect the timeline. I am the Chancellor of Collegium Chronos. My focus is on academic affairs, preparing students to become agents. There are occasional gray areas where our duties overlap, but this is not one of them. The men who attacked you are anachronists, and they must be reported to SA.”

  A doorbell rings from somewhere beyond the library.

  Southam calls out in a surprisingly strong voice. “Let him in, please.”

  I hear footsteps, probably from his student aide, and the sound of a door opening.

  Southam struggles to his feet.

  “I’ll attend to this matter of the anachronists. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I’d like you to take your tour now. You’ll be with Philip, our most senior student. He’ll show you the grounds and your dorm. He’s the person to ask if you have any questions about your day-to-day life.”

  “He’ll give me my class schedule?”

  “No, your glasspad will alert you when your schedule has been prepared.”

  A tall guy in his midtwenties enters and gives Southam a respectful bow. He wears a royal purple class uniform with a few medals hanging from it. His hair is reddish-blond, his eyes blue, and his features chiseled.

  He extends a hand to me, speaking in a slight French accent.

  “Hello, Tyler. I am Philip of Cognac, son of Lionheart.”

  Am I supposed to know what that means?

  I shake his hand. “Tyler Buck, son of Mary Buck.”

  His grip is crushing, but I resist the urge to crush back.

  His eyes are warm and bright. “A pleasure to meet you, Tyler, son of Mary.”

  I say my goodbyes to Southam, then Philip leads me out. We pass a room with a wide fireplace and a long wooden table. I catch a glimpse of a bedroom with an antique crossbow mounted on the wall. In a kitchen filled with wooden cabinets, the blue student puts dishes into a dishwasher.

  Once outside the house, a brick path curls across a well-manicured lawn, passing a round garden filled with fragrant herbs.<
br />
  We enter a wide stone walkway leading out of the residential area.

  Once Southam’s house is out of sight, Philip stops and turns to me. He looks pissed.

  “Listen, dragon-boy, I’m only doing this because Professor Southam asked. Royals don’t provide services like this to greens, so don’t get used to it.”

  I don’t need another Zulien. Maybe a little diplomacy is called for.

  “Understood. I appreciate your time, Philip.”

  He eyes me skeptically, then continues walking, leaving me to follow.

  The main campus isn’t that big. Philip tells me there are only forty students. Time travel is apparently a rare ability.

  As we pass, Philip points out the lecture halls, the dining hall, and the library. I’m curious about the library. It looks small, and I’d like to go in, but Philip continues on without pausing.

  We do, however, stop and enter the Academy’s impressive gym. There’s a large wood-floored court, empty now, with a volleyball net stretched across it. There’s also an area filled with weight machines. The machines recognize individual people and automatically adjust the resistance according to their personal regimens. I’ll be hitting this place a lot. I haven’t worked out in a long time, and I’d like to buff up.

  After we leave the gym, we cross the quad, and Philip points out the auditorium, and the House of Props and Costumes. The school curriculum includes field trips to other time periods, and students are expected to dress accordingly.

  I’m not sure about the purpose of the other buildings. Philip gestures vaguely as we pass them. Apparently, there’s a power plant, water plant, reclamation center, workshop, admin office, and an SA field office.

  The next stop is the firing range. Here, a few students practice archery, shooting arrows into targets mounted on hay bales. But there is also a set of lanes for shooting guns.

  From the firing range, we walk between two buildings and catch a view of the farm that produces most of the Academy’s food. It looks bigger than the rest of the Academy put together. I see sheep grazing in a field, rows of corn, and other vegetables.

  We don’t go into the farm area. Philip wants to show me the arena, not far from the firing range. It’s a large circular space with a sand floor, designed for combat training. I’m surprised they don’t put out mats in the gym for this. The arena has a retro feel compared to the rest of the Academy.

  We stop for a moment, watching several pairs of students, a mix of men and women in blue uniforms, performing basic self-defense moves.

  Philip studies my face as I watch them practice.

  “So, dragon-boy, ever learn how to fight? Or do you just burn your way through trouble?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Philip smiles, as if I said something cute. “You’ll have to show me sometime.”

  I’ll show you now, you giant prick.

  Somehow, I manage to keep a lid on my growing anger.

  We continue the tour, passing through a beautiful garden with tall shade trees and dozens of isolated tables where students can sit and study. Half the tables are filled, mostly by green and blue students, with their eyes locked on their glasspads. I guess you don’t need books when all your class materials are on one device. No wonder the library is so small.

  After the garden, we pass the infirmary, but don’t go inside. I hear soft classical music playing from somewhere inside the two-story brick building. A male student in a green uniform stares at me through a window as we pass. He has the eyes of a trapped animal. He seems to be attempting a silent communication. I don’t understand his message, but I can imagine it. Get out while you can, you poor dumb bastard.

  I’m starting to suspect that it sucks to be a green.

  Our tour ends at a pair of small dorm buildings. As Philip points out the women’s dorm, I can’t resist asking a question.

  “I don’t suppose there are any students called Rosemarie.”

  Philip freezes in his tracks and slowly turns to me, eyes narrowing.

  I feel my heart quicken. She’s here! Ayana was right!

  Philip looks like he’s choosing his words carefully.

  “How … do you know her?”

  “I don’t, really. Someone mentioned her name. That’s all. You’ve met her?”

  His words come out clipped, like bullets being fired. “She’s. My. Girlfriend.”

  What the actual fuck?

  In Ayana’s dream, the great dragon Aido-Hwedo told her that Rosemarie was destined to be my mate. But it turns out that Rosemarie is already hooked up with Philip, son of Lionheart.

  A massive migraine suddenly strikes. The world darkens, and the pain drives me to my knees, hands clamped against my temples.

  What’s happening to me?

  Moments later, the pain fades, and I find myself curled on the pavement in front of the women’s dorm. Philip looms over me with a satisfied smile.

  “What’s wrong, dragon-boy? Need to go to the infirmary?”

  He did this. Somehow.

  I crawl to my feet, my hands itching to draw the crystal claws from my pouch. But what if I attack him, and it turns out he didn’t cause my headache? What if it’s because of the low oxygen?

  “I’m fine, Philip. Just drop me off in my room.”

  “Room? Greens don’t get rooms. You sleep in the rabbit den.”

  Philip walks over to the men’s dorm, and I follow him on shaky legs.

  We pass an unmanned front desk and enter a long room filled with narrow bunk beds. The place is clean, the walls are bare, and the room smells like drain cleaner. Philip and I are the only ones here. The other students must be in class.

  We pass the bunk beds and Philip points to a single bed in the back of the room. It’s not a bunk bed, and it’s wider than the others.

  “That’s the dragon boy’s bed. Watch out, the mattress is flammable.”

  I plop down on the bed, all the fight gone from me. I want nothing more than to take a long nap.

  Philip smirks as he walks away, calling back over his shoulder, “End of tour. No need to tip your guide.”

  I lean back on the pillow. I want to close my eyes and nap, but I’m curious as to where SA stashed my mom. Next time I’m in the modern world, I should visit her.

  I open the glasspad and fumble with the menus, making little progress. I can’t think with this massive headache.

  A door suddenly opens beside me. A middle-aged cleaning lady, holding a mop, pushes out a bucket on wheels. The bucket is the source of the drain cleaner smell. It burns my nose.

  Beyond the open door, I see bathroom stalls and showers.

  I get it now. This is the worst bed in the dorm. People will be coming back and forth all night, and I’ll be smelling every dump they take.

  No wonder the stuff in that bucket is burning my nose. She probably needs battery acid to clean the place.

  I wave to her weakly. “Hi, I’m Tyler, the new guy.”

  Her brown eyes look up. She seems startled that I’ve spoken to her. I can just imagine the way jerks like Philip have been treating her.

  She speaks in a wary whisper. “Lydia.”

  “I’m having a bad day, Lydia.”

  “Yeah. You don’t look so good.”

  I force myself to sit up.

  “What can you tell me about Philip?”

  She looks anxious and tries to leave, but the back wheel of her bucket catches on the door frame.

  I lean down and free the bucket.

  She nods her thanks, starts to leave, then hesitates for a moment, stopping to whisper a warning.

  “Don’t cross him. He’s not like the others. He’s not … completely human.”

  I lean forward, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

  I suddenly hear a voice calling my name.

  “Tyler. Tyler. Tyler.”

  The cleaning lady, spooked, hurries out of the room, abandoning her bucket and mop.

  I realize the voice is coming fr
om my pouch. I pull out the glasspad and see the irritating woman who gave me the exam.

  “Tyler, your classes have been assigned. Your first class, mounted sight tracking, is already underway. Please report to the stable.”

  Stable? That wasn’t in the tour. What else did Philip skip?

  I’m more certain now that Philip caused my headache. If he’s not human, then what is he? An alien from the planet Adonis?

  A Dandy Match

  TYLER BUCK

  As it turns out, I don’t need Philip to find the stable. The woman on the glasspad, I’m calling her Glassy, leads me straight there.

  I’m still weak from my sudden migraine, and tired from missing a night of sleep. I won’t be at my best for my first day of classes.

  The stable is across the lake from the pedal boats. It was too dark to see it when I first arrived. It has a dozen stalls, most of them empty now. The students, all in their teens or twenties, have already saddled their horses.

  A thin, grim-faced middle-aged woman gallops up to me on a white horse. She’s wearing tight black pants with knee-high riding boots and carries a crop in her right hand. She points the crop at me.

  “Tyler? I’m your instructor, Ms. Pennington. You’re late.”

  I give her a grin. “Is that crop for me or your horse?”

  That was stupid. I just can’t help myself.

  She shakes her head in irritation. “On this campus, we don’t open our mouths and show our teeth when we smile.”

  “What? You’re messing with me, right?”

  “Smiles are modern phenomena, a result of better dental care. Show your teeth in the past, and you’ll be mistaken for a drunk or an angry madman. It’s one of the hardest habits to break, so start now.”

  “No teeth. Got it. Hey, can you help me get saddled up? I don’t know anything about horses.”

  “One of the students will show you. I need to check the testing ground.”

  “There’s a test today?”

  She doesn’t answer. She’s already galloping off.

  I’m really starting to hate this place. The Hwedoists were nuts, and they transformed me against my will, but at least they were nice about it.