Dragon War

by Shay Roberts

  I approach the mounted students, announcing myself. “Tyler Buck. The new guy. Any chance I could get some help with a horse? I don’t know which end is which.”

  The students, all of them greens, refuse to answer or make eye contact. I’m invisible here.

  I think I know what’s happening. I’m late for the party and everyone has already cliqued up. On top of that, the staff made a big deal about my arrival, so the students feel threatened and jealous.

  I need to saddle up. How hard could it be? I grab a shiny leather saddle hanging on a wooden rail. Then I approach the only horse that’s out of its stall and isn’t already wearing a saddle.

  I speak to it softly. “Hey there, boy, girl, horsey. Mind giving me a ride?”

  The horse snorts, rolls its eyes, and shies away from me. It looks scared.

  I know what the problem is. My dragon blood. They can smell that I’m a super-predator. The truth is, I did once eat a horse while in dragon form. So I guess this is karma.

  Ms. Pennington returns and orders everyone to partner up for the test.

  Partnering and a test on my first day. This is worse than any anxiety dream I’ve ever had.

  I survey the students. Everyone has already buddied up, and there’s no one left for me. Hold on, check that, there’s another rider galloping in along the lakeshore. Looks like a woman with long blond hair.

  As I watch her approach, the world around her seems to disappear. I can only see her, and her gray horse, moving in slow motion.

  Goose bumps prick my skin as the woman draws near. She wears a green class uniform, a perfect match for her pale green eyes. As she approaches the stable, we lock eyes and she slows her horse to a trot.

  This is Rosemarie. No one needs to tell me that. I just know.

  She doesn’t smile at me. She looks intense. Hungry. Unafraid.

  I feel my pulse quickening and my skin getting hot.

  Rosemarie hops from her mount like a gymnast and whispers into the horse’s ear. The animal bobs its head, as if understanding her words.

  I stand, transfixed, as she leads her horse to me and extends the reins.

  “Please take my horse. He will help you.”

  My tongue is frozen in my mouth. It takes about a century before I realize I need to take the reins from her.

  When I take the reins, our hands brush together, and I hear my dragon sing. I have an overwhelming urge to shift into dragon form, but I manage to resist it.

  I still haven’t said anything. I’ve forgotten how to speak.

  Rosemarie is tall and carries herself like an Amazonian queen. She walks over to the unsaddled horse I scared away and leaps onto it, bareback.

  Our eyes meet again and I catch a glimpse of nervous tension. I need to say something. I need to put her at ease.

  “I’m Tyler.”

  Smooth.

  She nods. “Rosemarie. I have heard much about you.”

  “I’ve heard much about you too.”

  She looks surprised. “Who would speak of me to you?”

  Pennington interrupts, tapping me on the shoulder with her crop.

  “Stop drooling, Mr. Buck. Mount up.”

  I nod, managing to climb onto the saddle. I can do this. I’ve ridden a horse once before. Okay, it was a pony. And my mommy paid for the ride.

  Rosemarie trots her mount over and gives me a quick tutorial on how to control a horse. Her voice is musical, with some exotic accent. I hear every word, but I can’t concentrate on the meaning. Her presence is like a Taser, scattering the neurons in my brain.

  Before I know it, we’re at a trailhead, listening to Ms. Pennington’s gruff voice.

  “Okay, you two are the last team out. Tyler, you ride on the left. We’ve placed the beginner spoor off the trail on that side. Rose, you ride on the right, where you’ll see the intermediate spoor, just off the trail. Ride the loop to the grove and back. When you return, report what you’ve seen, and I’ll tally your score. Losing team cleans the stable. Get moving.”

  I raise my hand to ask a question, but Ms. Pennington is already galloping away.

  I turn to Rosemarie. “What’s a spoor?”

  “A sign of passage. A footprint, broken branch or stem, or bent grass.”

  I nod casually, trying not to look like a total noob.

  As we ride side by side onto the trail, I realize my horse is responding without my commands. It’s watching Rose and taking its lead from her. I’m just a passenger on this train.

  I eye the grass and shrubs to the left of the trail. I don’t see anything out of place. In dragon form, with my detailed color vision, I could ace this test. But as Tyler, my prospects are dim.

  As we ride, Rosemarie and I keep sneaking glances at each other, neither paying much attention to the test.

  I feel like I should say something. Anything.

  “So, what’s the deal with you and Philip?”

  Crap. I could have eased into that better.

  Rosemarie looks puzzled. “Deal? My apologies. The language bug is a wonderful tool, but it often fails with idioms and technical words. And of course, it cannot remove my accent.”

  “You got a bug too?”

  She nods. “Everyone does. Otherwise it would be chaos. English is a strange language, taking many years to master, and the Academy has no time for that. So, tell me, what did you mean by deal?”

  “Philip told me you’re his girlfriend. Then he may have exploded my head.”

  Her eyes darken, and I feel my horse shiver.

  “Philip lies. I have no companion. Do what you can to avoid him. He is dangerous.”

  “Dangerous how? What is he?”

  “A godling.”

  “Godling?”

  “A human with some measure of divine blood. Such creatures have differing powers. Philip can injure you with his thoughts. Some say he can kill with them.”

  “I don’t get it. I thought only the good guys came here.”

  “I am still learning your concept of good and evil, but as I understand it, that is a distinction of minor importance. To attend the Academy, you must be a time traveler, and you must be willing to fight anachronists. Beyond that, there are few limitations.”

  This place is so different than I imagined.

  “Does Professor Southam know that Philip is dangerous?”

  Her eyes flit to the side, as if noticing something on the ground. She’s probably seeing spoor, taking the test as she talks to me. She turns back and nods.

  “Almost certainly. I suspect there is little here that escapes the professor.”

  “So, what’s his deal?”

  “Are you asking about his relationships?”

  “No, I mean what’s with the leg braces and canes? And how did he come to be in charge?”

  “Ah, I believe I now understand your use of the word deal. Professor Southam is one of the Academy’s original founders. He suffers from a disease called EDS. I cannot recall what those letters mean. With this disease, the joints of his bones can become, how do you say, unjoined?”

  “Dislocated?”

  “Yes. Though he could travel into the future to find a cure, some say he does not because his disease is the source of his remarkable power.”

  “What power?”

  “Time travelers may only travel along their own timelines. This, he can do. But he is also a dimensional traveler, one who can travel between alternate timelines. No one else at the Academy possesses such a power.”

  As the trail loops around, Rosemarie looks ahead to the stable.

  “There is little time left to talk. You still have not said how you know of me.”

  How much should I tell her? I don’t want to scare her off.

  “Well, okay, see, this woman I know had a dream about you. She said you and I would be a dandy match.”

  Dandy? Where the hell did that come from?

  Rosemarie looks intrigued. “And this woman knew my name?”

  I nod.

&nb
sp; “Who is she to you? And who is she to the world?”

  “We, uh, dated, I guess you’d call it. But we broke up. She’s kind of a, um, priestess type, though she doesn’t call herself that.”

  “A priestess to which god?”

  “Not a god. A dragon. Anyway, we broke up. I can’t emphasize that enough.”

  Rosemarie frowns, and it feels like the sun has disappeared.

  Shit. I shouldn’t have said so much. Now she thinks I’m a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. Maybe I am.

  We ride the rest of the way in awkward silence and find Ms. Pennington waiting for us at the end of the trail.

  Rosemarie describes in detail the seven spoor she spotted on her side of the trail.

  Damn, that’s impressive.

  Ms. Pennington nods.

  “Well done, Ms. Allen. What about you, Mr. Buck? What spoor did you identify?”

  So her last name is Allen. Rosemarie Allen. Wait, Pennington asked me a question.

  “Spoor? Uh, I’m not sure. But I did see a beetle. Or maybe it was a rock.”

  Pennington sighs. “I suppose I was expecting more from you. My mistake. Your team has the low score, so you’ll be cleaning the stalls. Not you, Ms. Allen, just Mr. Buck.”

  Ms. Pennington waves Rosemarie away.

  Rosemarie looks distracted as she rides back to the stable. She doesn’t even say goodbye. Man, I really want a do-over with her.

  Ms. Pennington speaks in a clipped tone. “Follow me. I’ll show you how to muck out a stall. I’m running classes all day, so the stalls will be empty.”

  “How long will it take? I’m supposed to attend other classes.”

  “It takes as long as it takes.”

  I want to literally push her off her high horse. But I manage to resist the urge.

  When we return to the stable, I see no sign of Rosemarie. But the other students are still here, unsaddling their horses.

  They smirk as Pennington hands me a pitchfork and marches me into an empty stall.

  After a brief tutorial, I get to work. It’s like cleaning a giant cat box. I use the pitchfork to scoop up each huge pile of turds, shaking loose as much hay as possible before dumping the shit into a wheelbarrow.

  It takes about ten minutes to clean the stall, then afterward, Pennington checks my work. She finds some turds hiding under the hay and makes me do it again.

  The whole time, I hear Glassy calling my name, warning me that I’m missing a class on survival crafting. Dammit, that sounds interesting.

  When I finish the stall, I hurry out, eager to get to class, but Pennington stops me. There are still eleven other stalls to clean!

  I’m on the verge of saying something stupid to her, when a thought occurs to me. It doesn’t make sense she would want me to miss classes. And it doesn’t make sense to give me a test on something I haven’t learned yet.

  Maybe this whole thing is a test. Southam is the good cop, with everyone else playing bad cop. They want to see how tough I am, or how I’ll react under stress.

  I smile at Pennington, being careful not to show any teeth, and move on to cleaning the next stall.

  She seems a little taken aback. Good.

  Feeling victorious, I clean the second stall.

  By the third stall, my elation is fading.

  By the fourth stall, I’m getting tired.

  Somewhere around the eighth stall, Glassy is warning me about another class. This one is archery. Damn, that sounds cool. But I have four more stalls to clean.

  By the time I finish the last stall, I’m beyond exhausted. Maybe it’s the low oxygen, or maybe it’s because I missed a night of sleep, or maybe it’s because Philip exploded my head.

  It’s not just that I’m tired. I’m also depressed. I finally met Rosemarie, and I screwed it up. Where’s my game? I’m usually smoother than that.

  Glassy is talking about a fishing class, but I’m just too wiped out to attend. What I need is a quick nap to get my alertness back.

  I drag myself back to the dorm. It’s still empty. I drop into my bed beside the bathroom and close my eyes, mentally programming a ten-minute nap.

  When I open my eyes again, it’s dark, and the dorm beds are filled with sleeping students.

  Shit, I slept the whole day away. What time is it?

  I check Glassy. It takes me a minute to figure out how to see the time. A little pop-up window tells me that because of the Jurassic era, we’re on a twenty-two-hour day here, so the clocks go from eleven straight to one. Essentially, 11 p.m. is midnight, and 11 a.m. is noon. That will take some getting used to. Why are the days shorter in the Jurassic era?

  Glassy tells me it’s 3 a.m. So I must have slept over twelve hours. I’m surprised some teacher didn’t wake me up to bitch at me for missing class.

  I see a notation on my pad telling me I have a message. When I touch the icon, I see Rosemarie’s face! It’s a video message.

  “Tyler, meet me at the lake at 1 a.m. I need you to show me something.”

  She doesn’t look upset anymore. But she doesn’t look happy, either. What is she talking about? What does she want me to show her? Crap, I’m two hours late. She’s probably given up on me by now.

  I sit on the edge on my bed, feeling fresh and invigorated. You really can sleep in these uniforms.

  I may be two hours late, but if there’s a chance Rosemarie is still there, I have to go. I have no idea how to message her with the glasspad. It’ll be faster just to run out there.

  I move quietly past the sleeping students.

  As I enter the lobby, I run into an old guy manning the front desk.

  He gives me a scowl. “They warned me about you, Mr. Buck. We’re locked down for the night. Go back to bed.”

  I feel like screaming. I really can’t catch a break here.

  Aido-Hwedo

  ROSEMARIE ALLEN

  I sit at the trunk of a tree beside the lake. It’s a warm summer night. They tell me the summer lasts all year here. I feel anima humming inside the tree, but I do not reach for it. After three weeks, the soul of the Jurassic world is still foreign and gives me little comfort. Even the stars are different here.

  I pull my glasspad from the pocket of my green tunic and check the time. It’s 3 a.m. Tyler will not visit me tonight. Perhaps he never received my message. Or perhaps he was angered by my questions during our ride.

  I am confused by Tyler. Why does he seem so familiar?

  My Pict clan, the Draig, struggled to protect the dragons. That much I remember. That would explain why I feel protective of Tyler. But it does not explain my fear, and my desperate need to know more about his dragon. I feel I have forgotten something. Something important. And I must remember.

  I hear noises in the brush behind me. Summoning the power of the deer, I listen closely. It’s the sound of a creeping creature. I turn my head and peer into the night. My deer sight lights up the darkness, and I see a large lizard scuttling in my direction. I reach out with my mind and touch its anima. The creature turns away.

  This night has been a disappointment. I consider returning to the dorm, but my fish tattoo is itching for a swim. I peel off my tunic and tights, then wade into the warm lake.

  The moon’s reflection ripples in the water. They say she is a little bigger here in the Jurassic era. In this strange land, she is my only familiar friend. I dive deep into the lake, gazing up at her through a veil of water.

  I nearly recall the memory that lurks in the depths of my mind. But the moment passes, and the memory remains unreachable.

  I swim deeper and deeper until I find the bottom of the lake, covered by a layer of plants that sway in the aquatic breeze.

  With the power of my fish, I can swim quickly and stay in the water without coming up for air. I am tempted to stay down here forever, to become a fabled mermaid who eats careless swimmers. But I should return to the dorm. I need sleep for my classes tomorrow.

  I rise to the surface and swim toward the shore. With my
deer eyes, I spot Tyler sitting beside my clothes. He does not see me. His eyes are on the night sky. Is he like me? Is he troubled by those strange stars?

  I splash the water to get his attention.

  He looks out over the lake, hearing but not seeing me. “Rosemarie? Everything okay?”

  I call out over the water. “I did not think you would come.”

  “Sorry. I got your message late. Then I got busted by the gate man. Had to sneak out the bathroom window.”

  I swim to the shore and emerge from the water. He turns around to protect my modesty. I slip on my long tunic, which covers me well below the hips, but I do not put on my leggings. I want him to see my tattoos. I want him to see who I really am. I am not a green student. I am not a mental patient. I am not even the wolf-girl that Mrs. Allen raised. What I am came before all those things. I just wish I could remember.

  “Tyler, you may turn around now.”

  He turns, showing a toothy smile, then quickly corrects himself.

  “Damn, that smile thing is gonna take some getting used to. You’re from the past, right? Is it true you’re not supposed to show your teeth, or is Pennington full of it?”

  “She is correct. How do you know I’m from the past?”

  He points to the protective tattoos on my upper legs, dark lines in the moonlight. “Those look … authentic. Celtic knots?”

  “Pictish protections. They extend only to my knees. But when I was a child, they ran all the way down to my ankles.”

  “What happened to the tattoos below your knees?”

  “When something bad happens, something that would injure or kill me, one of the knots protects me, and then it fades away.”

  Tyler whistles. “Then it looks like you’ve led a pretty wild life.”

  “Knowing I am protected, I can be reckless at times. As you can see, the tattoos are disappearing quickly. They will not preserve me forever. I must try to be more cautious.”

  Tyler turns away, lifts his tunic and pulls down his leggings, exposing a dragon tattoo on one of his buttocks. “Got this in Cardiff. I like the way the tail curls into Celtic knots.”

  I resist the urge to reach out and touch it.

  “What is its meaning?”