by Shay Roberts
“Meaning? I don’t know. It’s there to remind me not to get stinking drunk.”
He chuckles, pulling his leggings back up. Never before has a man shown me his buttocks. It did not feel awkward or strange, and that in itself is odd.
I turn around, lifting my tunic to expose the deer on my back.
“I have animal tattoos on my upper body. This is the deer. It grants me sharp hearing, night vision and high leaps.”
I turn to the side, showing him the fish.
“With the fish, I swim quickly and can breathe underwater.”
I turn to the other side, exposing the horse.
“The horse gives me speed, strength, and endurance.”
I face him, exposing the eagle on my belly. But I cover my breasts with my tunic, and my genitals with my hand.
“The eagle gives me sharp eyes and a powerful grip.”
He reaches out and traces the design with his finger. His dracoform skin is hot and smooth. His touch tingles, and makes me warm between my legs.
He whispers, in awe. “These tattoos are amazing. What are you, some sort of shaman? A druid?”
“A druidess, yes. Among my people, there were many druids, each with their own specialty. Some were healers, some poets, some historians. They were our educated people, our professionals. I believe my father was a magician. I don’t remember him well. He died when I was young. It was he who marked me. Our clan, the Draig, protected the dragons of the land. The ink in my tattoos was made from dragon scales.”
His hands have wandered to my hips, and he slowly moves closer.
“There’s something about you, Rosemarie. Something I can’t explain. Please tell me you feel it too.”
I take his hands in mine, letting my tunic fall to cover me, and halting his advance.
“Tyler, I do feel an attraction to you. But I should warn you, I have never made love. All I know of sex, I learned from reading Mrs. Allen’s romance novels. I thought those books had prepared me. Then she revealed they are a pretty lie, that in real life, men are not like those heroes, and sex is not so satisfying. I cried when she told me that.”
Tyler hugs me.
“Thanks for telling me that. Don’t worry, I’m not going to rush you into anything. We’ll be here for three years. If it’s meant to be, things will happen when they happen.”
I return his hug, feeling the contours of his powerful body.
“Tyler, I need to ask a favor.”
“Sure, anything.”
“There’s something I’ve been trying to remember. I think it would help if I saw your dragon.”
“You want me to shift? Right now?”
“Yes. Please.”
He nods, stripping off his pouch and clothing, exposing his body without shame. His skin is taut over the muscles of his belly. His chest is smooth and hard as a statue. He looks exactly like a hero on the cover of a romance novel.
“Okay, I’ve stripped off everything except the contact lenses hiding my orange eyes. I’m gonna leave those on and see what happens.”
Tyler walks to the water’s edge, and I watch the dragon on his buttock move with the muscles beneath it. It’s a sensual sight, but I cannot enjoy it. I feel an increasing sense of dread. I want to call out to Tyler, to tell him not to shift. This was a bad idea.
But it’s already too late. His skin becomes transparent, splitting open to accommodate his sudden growth. His arms and legs lengthen, and his fingernails grow into claws.
Moments later, he towers above me, moonlight bouncing from his crystal scales and casting colored jewels on the water.
Suddenly, a distant memory hits me like a falling tree.
I hear gunshots. I hear my clansmen screaming and dying.
I’m a young girl standing beside the body of the great dragon, Aido-Hwedo. I scream as I press my hand against the bleeding bullet hole in his head. A Roman soldier races toward me. His face and hands are covered with green slime. He raises a rifle. In moments, I will be killed.
I feel the ground slam into my face. The memory fades, and I descend into a blissful darkness.
The Observer’s Dilemma
ROSEMARIE ALLEN
I awaken inside the infirmary, where soft music is playing. They call it classical. It’s more complex than the music of my people.
The room is small, but the bed is comfortable, and I have a view of the lake. A large reptilian bird soars high above the water.
The lake!
It all comes back to me. Tyler transformed into a beautiful dragon, and it made me remember the death of Aido-Hwedo at the hands of the Romans.
Dr. Sadana, a woman with cinnamon skin, enters the room with a concerned look.
“Good morning, Ms. Allen. How are you feeling?”
I sit up in bed, realizing I feel better than I did before.
“I feel quite good. Did you give me a medication?”
She shakes her head. “Physically, you appear healthy. Do you have any idea why you lost consciousness?”
“I remembered something. Something terrible. It made me faint. Where is Tyler?”
“He’s downstairs in the waiting room, with Professor Southam. What did you remember?”
Ignoring her question, I get out of the bed and find myself wearing a thin white gown.
“Where is my class uniform?”
The doctor points to a narrow closet beside the bed. “As I said before, you’re physically healthy, so I have no objection to you checking out. However, I’d like to schedule you for a mental health assessment. We need to rule out various disorders, such as PTSD.”
I shiver as I remember the horrible hospital Ms. Luvalle rescued me from. The people there talked exactly like Dr. Sadana.
I quickly change into my uniform. I notice that none of the protective tattoos on my legs are gone. Whatever happened to me, it was not serious.
I turn to the doctor. “I am better now. No further tests are needed.”
“I’ve checked your class schedule. You have some time this afternoon. I need you to stop by. It won’t take long. Once we identify the problem, I’m certain we can address it. We have effective treatments such as cognitive processing therapy, and drugs such as serotonin inhibitors. You can be cured, Rosemarie. You can be happy again.”
“Thank you for your concern. But as I said, I am better now.”
I hurry out of the room, through the hallway, and down the stairs. I’m eager to speak to Tyler and Professor Southam. I have discovered my true purpose at the Academy. I must correct a great injustice.
As I enter the waiting room, Tyler jumps up and greets me with a hug. He whispers to me, his eyes filled with worry.
“Are you okay?”
“The doctor says I am healthy.”
“What happened?”
“Seeing you as a dragon brought back a painful memory. It’s important that I tell Professor Southam.”
The professor, sitting nearby, begins to struggle to his feet. I gesture for him to remain seated, and sit down beside him. Tyler takes a seat on the other side of me.
I squeeze the professor’s arm. “I have something important to tell you.”
He nods. “I’m always here to listen.”
At this moment, he reminds me of someone. As a child, did I have a grandfather who cared for me? I cannot remember.
“When I saw Tyler in his dragon form, it brought back a memory. I was twelve years old, and the Romans were attacking.”
He cocks his head. “Imperial Roman soldiers?”
“Yes. They wore red uniforms, and fought with rifles.”
The professor is alarmed. “Rifles? What year was this?”
“I cannot say. This was in Pictland, long before it became Scotland.”
“Interesting. Please continue.”
“Our clan, the Draig, was trying to protect the dragons. The Romans were there to kill them. The soldiers had green slime on their hands and faces, to protect them from dragon fire. They killed the dragons wi
th their rifles. There was one dragon who was special to me. His name was Aido-Hwedo. The Romans shot him in the head and he died at my feet. They were about to kill me too. That was the first time I time traveled, though at the time I did not know it. That was when I left my world and entered modern Scotland.”
Tyler stares at me, his eyes wide. “I have the blood of Aido-Hwedo in me. That explains our connection.”
I nod, taking his hand. “Yes. It’s a strong connection, through a strong dragon.”
The professor appears puzzled. “I thought Aido-Hwedo was an African dragon. What was he doing in Pictland?”
I shake my head. “I cannot say. I did not know he was from Africa.”
Tyler, agitated, jumps to his feet. “There has to be a link between the Roman soldiers who attacked Rosemarie’s people, and the Knights of Rome who attacked the Temple of Hwedo. Both are Roman, both used guns, and both were attacking dragons, or people supporting the dragons. This has to be an anachronist conspiracy. Professor Southam, did you tell SA about the attack on the temple?”
The professor nods. “I relayed your report to them. A preliminary check showed the event had no influence on Ethiopian or world history. Firearms were not introduced to the world for hundreds of years after these events, so there’s no evidence of contamination. SA will eventually investigate further but has marked the case low priority. All attention is currently focused on The Unbound.”
Angry, I leap to my feet to join Tyler. “But what if this did influence history? Forget about the rifles. They killed the dragons. What if those dragons had survived? Would we be living in a different world now, the world we were meant to live in?”
The professor looks at me with the eyes of a sympathetic parent.
“Rosemarie, I’m so sorry you suffered that horror. I will take your case to SA, immediately. But you must understand, I collect British histories from many alternate timelines, and in none of them do dragons play a significant role in history.”
I struggle to keep the angry desperation out of my voice. “SA should go there and investigate. Perhaps something happened that was not recorded in your histories.”
“They will certainly investigate, at some point. But the agency is being forced to prioritize these cases because they’re fighting an enemy that’s making profound changes to the timeline even as we speak.”
I take my seat, anger still burning inside me. It makes no sense to argue further with this man. He is doing the best he can, but he cannot help me.
As the professor struggles to his feet, Tyler moves closer, ready to assist him if necessary.
The professor gives me a warm look. “I’m on my way to see the attaché. I will speak to him personally and convey to you what I learn.”
I nod my thanks as Tyler walks him to the door.
I don’t remember much about my childhood, but I do know one thing. I was an important girl, fighting an important battle. Dragons meant everything to me.
Now that I have left that world, I am a small person with petty problems. The Academy cares nothing for the dragons.
Angry tears fill my eyes. Tyler returns to sit beside me, unsure if he should take my hand. I am also unsure. I cannot continue to be that child who was attacked by the Romans. I must be an adult and solve my own problems.
I turn to Tyler. “They are still serving breakfast in the dining hall. Will you join me for a meal?”
He nods. “I’m starving.”
Behind him, I see Dr. Sadana approaching.
I hurry out with Tyler before she can reach me. I will not be returning here to submit to her tests.
I sit beside Tyler in the dining hall. Most of the students have already left, and the food in the buffet line has been picked over. Servants in white clothing are collecting the remnants and cleaning the empty tables.
Tyler leans over a plate heaped with whatever he could forage. He requires a lot of food. I wonder if it’s because of his dragon.
I examine his face. “I see your eyes are still brown. Did you have to get new contacts after you transformed?”
He speaks between bites. “Nope. They stayed in, if you can believe it. I think I’m supposed to clean them, though.”
“Can I see your glasspad? I want to know if we have any classes together today.”
He retrieves his pad from his pouch, and I show him how to check his class schedule. For some reason, his pad is configured differently than mine, but I am still able to access his schedule.
“You have a construct lab all morning. Impressive. That’s a second-year class. In the afternoon you have world history and comparative cultures. I have temporal ethics this morning, followed by melee weapons, then a study hour in the afternoon, and finally, a jump lab. I am still learning to make small, controlled jumps. Hmm, that is all I see on the pad. We have no classes together today, but we could meet here for lunch.”
He nods, speaking through a mouthful of fried potatoes. “I’ll probably still be here. The food is awesome.”
Odd. I do not care for it.
He points to his pad. “Hey, can you show me how to find my mom’s location? SA relocated her.”
“Certainly. Why was she relocated?”
“Um, some unpleasant people were looking for me. It’s a long story.”
I examine his pad and find the information in an area that requires him to speak into the device to verify his identity.
Tyler reads the pad. “Anchorage! They moved her to Alaska?”
“Where is this place?”
“In the far north.”
“Ah, then she will like it there. On some winter nights, the aurora dances in the sky.”
Suddenly, Philip sits down in the seat across from us. He takes a sip of my coffee and flashes a closed-mouth smile.
“Good morning, Rosemarie. You look lovely today.”
Tyler stiffens, ready for a fight, but I hold him off with a gesture. This is my battle.
I fix my eyes on Philip, trying to make him squirm.
“Why did you tell Tyler that we are a couple? That is not true.”
“Ah, but it is, my beauty. We are destined to be together. Not in the here, not in the now, but in the future. I have seen it.”
I see worry in Tyler’s eyes. Philip is very persuasive, no doubt a gift of his divine blood.
“Philip, I cannot allow this.”
He waves his finger. “I think you mean can’t allow. Contractions are your friend.” He turns to Tyler. “It took me two weeks to teach her it’s. You can only take so much it is this and it is that.”
Tyler stands, visibly angry, his hand on his pouch. Does he carry a weapon inside?
Philip smiles, this time showing his teeth. “A folded-space pouch. Very impressive. Normally, they’re reserved for graduates. You must be very special. Tell me, how big is it inside? Big enough to hold a body?”
I take Tyler’s hand and draw him out of the dining hall.
Philip nods a goodbye as we leave.
I know that Philip will not attack in a public place. But Tyler seems more impulsive. Best to keep them apart.
As we leave the hall, I whisper to Tyler, “He seeks to provoke you. Do not give him the satisfaction.”
Tyler nods, irritated, and pulls his hand away from mine.
“I’ve met guys like that. Backing down just makes it worse.”
“Perhaps you are right. But will you give my way a chance?”
He nods reluctantly.
I squeeze his hand. “Best to leave now, or you will be late for your construct lab. I will meet you here for lunch.”
He smiles a little. “Looking forward to it.”
He squeezes my arm and departs, moving down the stone walkway in the wrong direction. He reaches into his pouch and pulls out his glasspad. I decide to say nothing, knowing the pad’s assistant will steer him in the right direction.
My ethics class is small. There are only four other greens.
Professor Villalobos, with his dark be
ard and dancing gray eyes, surveys the classroom as he waits for someone to answer the question he just asked. He taps the ends of his fingers together, as if playing an instrument.
“Anyone?”
I raise my hand. “I assume we are to ignore the poor child.”
He nods, thankful for the response. “Precisely. The first rule of the observer is do not intervene. You may only act against a known anachronist.”
Willem, who cannot—I should say can’t—stop scratching the rash on his neck, raises his hand. He normally has something dreadful to ask.
“Uh, Professor Villalobos? What if, say, the father wasn’t just beating the child? What if he was going to kill him? Do we sit back and let the kid die?”
The professor points at Willem. “Hard question, Willem. But a fair one. What would you do?”
Willem appears stricken and looks to me for help.
I do not, don’t, enjoy this class. I’d rather be with Tyler, in the construct lab. I find my attention straying.
Professor Villalobos raises his voice a little to bring me back into the discussion.
“The observer doesn’t choose who lives or dies. The timeline must evolve unimpeded.”
I feel a sudden anger pricking my skin. “What if you let the boy die, but he would have grown up to be a great leader, someone who prevented a war? Or a talented doctor who cured some awful disease? What if that child would have made the world a better place?”
The professor gazes at me, a hint of worry in his eyes. He strokes his beard as he thinks.
“Fair point, Ms. Allen. And thank you for voicing your concern. To play devil’s advocate, what if you did save the boy, and he grew up to be Hitler, or Stalin?”
“I do not, don’t, know these people.”
“They killed millions of innocents.”
“Ah.”
I will never best this man in an argument. How many students have asked these same questions over the years? He has an answer for everything. I like him, and respect his point of view, but still, I know he is wrong.
The professor leans against his desk, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
“Honestly, the observer’s dilemma keeps me awake at night. And this is precisely why we have an ethics class here at the Academy. If you are troubled by the role of the observer, understand this. History has shown that societies are strengthened by their setbacks and failures. By removing every bad thing in the timeline, you doom it to mediocrity and ultimate collapse. Avoiding intervention is like exercise. It hurts a little when you do it, but it’s good for you.”
