Dragon War

by Shay Roberts

  He nods, wiping apple juice from his lips. “Let’s go. We can probably see the whole kingdom from up there.”

  We pack up camp, and my belly flutters with excitement as we begin the hike to Dragon’s Nest.

  The ground is thick with emerald grass, broken only by an occasional crop of weathered stones spotted with lichen. There are no trees in sight.

  As we climb the mountain, the anima energizes me. But Tyler, still not recovered from jumping us here, struggles to reach the summit.

  We eventually reach the top. We sit at the base of a rock formation and drink the small bottles of juice I brought along. From here, I can see the lay of the land. To the west lies the strait of Minch, and beyond that, the main island of the Hebrides. To the east, hidden in a valley only an hour’s walk away, is Arbroath, the home of the Draig.

  Once Tyler has rested a bit, I urge him to follow me as I climb the rock formation leading up into the Dragon’s Nest.

  At the top of the formation is a wide bowl of smooth rock, covered in a soft bed of green moss. As a child, I spent many hours lying here, staring at the sky and thinking of dragons.

  I remember that our people protected the dragons, and that for some reason, the dragons were sleeping.

  I sink down into the moss, watching Tyler’s hair wave in the wind as he enjoys the view.

  As the anima hums through me, I realize this is the world I belong in. The Academy is such a foreign place. I can learn much there, but how will I survive for three years? Unlike Tyler, I am struggling in my classes, and unwilling to accept their practices and beliefs.

  Tyler has such a bright future there. Have I ruined it by dragging him along on this mad quest? It was his choice to come, but was there ever any doubt that he would? Knowing his feelings for me, did he really have a choice?

  Tyler is an amazing man. I may even love him, but I can’t be certain. I know nothing of love. Part of me wants to pull him down on top of me, and part of me wants to send him back to the Academy before I destroy his life.

  As if sensing my distress, Tyler kneels beside me, placing his hand on my leg.

  “Thank you for bringing me here. This land is as amazing as you are.”

  I do not understand why, but for some reason, my heart suddenly explodes with desire for him. I pull him down, and our lips meet. I taste the fruit juice in his warm mouth and feel the little fork at the end of his tongue.

  As his hands roam my body, I open my legs to admit them. His fingers trace lines of pleasure on my pale skin, now growing flush with excitement.

  I feel his hardness as he gently removes my clothing.

  He whispers into my ear, “I don’t have any condoms, but I know another way to make you feel good.”

  He kisses my neck, my breasts, my stomach, and my thighs.

  I squeeze the rippling muscles of his shoulders as his hot breath lights a fire between my legs. My back arches as his fiery tongue finds me, touching me in a way I could never touch myself. My body becomes his instrument, and he plays a sweet melody that makes me forget my very name. Time seems to slow as my body shudders and colored lights dance behind my eyes.

  The world spins as he holds me in his arms, giving me time to recover. I tap the anima in the moss beneath me, returning strength to the trembling muscles in my thighs.

  I reach down between his legs, cupping him, stroking him, until he becomes rock hard. I want to make him feel what he made me feel. But I have never done this, and my confidence suddenly wavers.

  Sensing my unease, he guides my hand, teaching me how to touch him. My confidence grows and I lower my mouth to him. I am awed by his vulnerability, by his trust in me, and thankful for his whispered instructions.

  His shaft tingles on my tongue like a sweet pepper, and when he spills his seed, I swallow it, eager to make his body part of mine.

  I watch his body spasm, as if hit by lightning. His moan of pleasure joins the wind and drifts out over the Highlands.

  I fall into his arms, our bodies humming as they press together.

  I close my eyes, breathing in his scent, rich and smoky, like smoldering hardwood.

  At this moment, I feel a powerful connection to Tyler, even more intense and pleasurable than the sex. Is this love? It must be, because I want to lie here in his arms, forever.

  The distant roar of a dragon pulls us from our reverie.

  We jump to our feet, both of us naked, and look out at the Minch. In the far distance, a dragon rains fire on something in the water.

  Tyler squints. “I can’t see what it’s attacking.”

  I summon my eagle eyes and take in the scene. “It’s a small sailing ship, painted blue. Even the sails are blue. It’s on fire. There are men inside. Soldiers, I believe, though they are too far away for me to see their uniforms or weapons.”

  As the dragon circles for an attack, gunfire echoes across the strait.

  Tyler shakes his head. “Shit. It’s really happening. Those are Romans with guns.”

  I cry out as the dragon’s wings fall slack and the majestic creature plunges lifeless into the water, making a splash higher than the boat.

  Tears flood my eyes. “They killed it!”

  Tyler, a snarl on his face, throws on his clothes. “Let’s get closer and see if we can record something.”

  I quickly dress, following Tyler as we scramble out of the Dragon’s Nest and down the side of the mountain.

  If I summoned the power of the horse, I could reach the shore more quickly. But I will not leave Tyler behind. My body wants to join with him, to be closer than his shadow.

  It takes nearly an hour of running to reach the water. We arrive winded, sucking in huge gulps of salty air.

  The tide is halfway out, exposing a wide field of wet rocks, slippery with sea plants. Their sour scent blends with the acrid smoke drifting in from over the water.

  The blue ship has sunk, reduced to a few smoking splinters. I realize the current has carried the debris away from its original position. I try to imagine where the ship must have been when the dragon first struck, and then I use my eagle eyes to scan the adjacent shoreline.

  About a quarter mile south, I spot a figure crawling on the rocky beach. I point him out to Tyler.

  “A survivor, wearing a red uniform.”

  Tyler peers at the figure.

  “Can you tell if he has a rifle?”

  “Both of his hands are on the ground. He is trying to get to his feet.”

  Tyler pulls his glasspad out of his pouch and hands it to me.

  “Can you film this? I don’t know how.”

  I nod, and Tyler sprints toward the figure. I’ve never seen such speed from him. I can’t keep up without calling on my horse.

  I understand his hurry. He wants to overpower the soldier before he recovers.

  As we approach the soldier, I use the glasspad to record the encounter.

  I see no other survivors here. The soldier wears the Roman colors from my nightmares. But he is not wearing armor. That probably saved him from drowning.

  His bearded face is smeared with green slime, and his eyes widen as he sees Tyler closing in on him.

  The man reaches into a soggy pouch at his waist and draws a handgun.

  I scream a warning to Tyler, but I’m certain he already sees the danger.

  Tyler is wearing his claws now. I did not see him put them on. He leaps the last twenty feet as the soldier fires.

  My heart stops as Tyler lands on the Roman, knocking the soldier flat on his back.

  Has Tyler been shot? He is still standing, but not moving.

  I quickly close the distance and throw my arms around him.

  “Are you hurt?”

  He shakes his head, looking disgusted with himself. “I’m fine. Are you recording?”

  Enormously relieved, I lift the glasspad to record the soldier.

  Tyler stands on his wrist, pinning his weapon hand to the rocky beach.

  The Roman’s other hand is free, explor
ing the ruins of his face and neck. Tyler’s claws have left him blind, disfigured, and bleeding out.

  Tyler calls out to his dying adversary. “Why are you here?”

  The man speaks. He is difficult to understand through his bloody sobs. “Scouts. Find dragons.”

  “Why are you looking for dragons?”

  His voice is softer now. “Orders. Must. Kill.”

  “Who do you serve?”

  He’s nearly whispering now, barely audible over the rush of sea. “Nameless. Legion. General. Argyros.”

  Stunned, Tyler shouts. “Argyros?”

  The soldier, now dead, doesn’t respond.

  Tyler pulls the gun from the Roman’s limp fingers and turns to me.

  “I know Argyros. He’s with the Knights of Rome. He attacked the Temple of Hwedo. I tried to kill him, but I couldn’t touch him. He escaped by time traveling.”

  I capture a close-up image of the gun.

  Tyler stiffens as he looks over my shoulder. “Riders coming in. I haven’t had enough rest to make another jump. You could jump us an hour ahead, but of course, they’d see us disappear. The other problem is that neither of us would be able to jump again if we landed in the middle of trouble.”

  I look behind me and see horsemen in the distance. With my eagle eyes, I spot the heavy silver collars around their necks. I know those men!

  I turn to Tyler and hand him the glasspad. “Put everything away. The pad, the gun, the claws, anything that might attract their attention.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Silver collars. The king’s elite horse soldiers. Even chieftains dare not cross them. Please say nothing, even if provoked. They are dangerous, but they are not our enemy.”

  Tyler nods, dropping the gun and glasspad in his pouch. In one quick motion, he flicks the blood from his crystal claws and slips them into the pouch. His iron axe and buckler remain on his belt, but he doesn’t draw them.

  I still have my bow and quiver of arrows, but I have left my staff behind in the Dragon’s Nest. Hopefully, I will not need it.

  The group of twelve men, riding shirtless and barefooted, approaches us cautiously. They are powerful, but they are not fools. Wary of arrows, they move into a single-file formation as they ride near.

  Four tall, powerful war dogs with thick leather collars flank the horses.

  The lead rider, a powerful man with a scarred, tattooed chest, flicks his long hair from his eyes and stares at me in disbelief.

  He calls out in a respectful tone, “Lady Broicc, strange to find you here.”

  He thinks I’m my mother!

  “I go where the wind calls, First Horseman.”

  He drives his lance into the ground and hops gracefully from his horse. His tartan trousers bulge with thick leg muscles as he approaches and makes a shallow bow. His eyes sweep past Tyler and come to rest on the body.

  The First Horseman scowls. “Romans.” Ignoring Tyler, he kneels before the body. “Strange wounds. An animal attack?”

  I shrug. “We found him this way. The head is yours, if you like.”

  “Thank you, Lady, but I have not earned it. Tell me, what is that green mud on his skin?”

  “I have no idea.”

  The horseman checks the dead soldier’s pouch, pleased to find a pair of silver coins. He drops the coins into his own pouch, then stops to give Tyler a closer look.

  “Strong lad, by the look of you. Ever bloody that axe of yours?”

  I’m relieved when Tyler doesn’t speak.

  I approach the horseman. “He’s a Caledonian mercenary. He doesn’t know our dialect.”

  I continue speaking before the silver collar can respond. “Tell me, First Horseman, could you escort us back to Arbroath? If the Roman was killed by a wild beast, we could use your protection.”

  He nods proudly. “Of course, Lady Broicc. And I insist that you ride my horse.”

  I glance at Tyler and see confusion in his eyes. Now that we’ve recorded the Roman with the gun, he wants to return to the Academy. But we can’t jump until Tyler recovers, and while we’re waiting, I should use the time to warn my people about the Roman threat.

  I feel bad for Tyler. He, like the First Horseman, walks beside me as we ride to Arbroath.

  I wish I could be hand-in-hand with Tyler, and that I could explain my plan. But no doubt, he has already guessed it.

  I have no intention of being a neutral observer. I intend to intervene, to give the Draig an idea of what they will face. After that, I will return to the Academy with Tyler and present our recorded evidence.

  As we travel, it becomes clear that the horses and dogs are afraid of Tyler. The horseman can’t understand why. It makes them wary of Tyler, and more respectful.

  The silver collars decide to circle north of the Dragon’s Nest. That will add some time to the journey, but the ground is drier there, and the footing better for the horses.

  After passing the nest, I soon spot one of our clan’s standing stones, a pillar carved with the outline of a dragon. We use them to mark our territory.

  A half hour later, we begin to pass a few brochs, the dome stone fortresses built throughout Pictland.

  Draig commoners and slaves bow their heads as we pass, clearly mistaking me for Broicc. We pass fields planted with barley, cabbage, peas, and beans. They raise mostly sheep and pigs here, but there are also some cattle and a few horses.

  Ahead, I see the big hill fortress that marks the center of Arbroath. As we reach the base of the hill, I thank the First Horseman and we take our leave of him. I can see that he wants to accompany us inside, but he will not do so without an invitation.

  Tyler and I pass through the gate of a wooden palisade, where four of my father’s men stand guard with spears. Clubs hang from the belts of their long tunics, and their tattooed legs are dusty and bare.

  If the math is correct, we have arrived here five years before my birth, and seventeen years before the destruction of the clan. It is fortunate that my parents appear to be ruling here already, but I don’t expect to travel all the way up to the fortress without a challenge. The gatesmen look uncomfortable as we pass. I look like Broicc, but perhaps they know that Broicc is already inside.

  A dirt road switchbacks up the hill, leading to another wooden palisade surrounding the common grounds and the keep. Two of the gatesmen have chosen to follow us, so I do not have an opportunity to speak with Tyler.

  When I make eye contact with him, he appears calm and controlled, but perhaps somewhat annoyed. I do not blame him.

  As we pass through a second gate, a man in a finely stitched tunic, and a sword at his side, steps up to confront us. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite remember his name.

  He cocks his head, hand on his sword handle, and looks me straight in the eye. “Now who would you be?”

  “The sister of Lady Broicc.”

  “She does not have a sister.”

  “Correction. She does not know she has a sister.”

  His brow furrows, but I can see that he is intrigued. “Follow me up.”

  We pass a long wooden mead hall with a bull carved on the door, and approach the chief’s broch, a domed stone fortress, four levels high, at the top of the hill.

  My parents don’t actually live in the broch; they live in the more comfortable wooden building beside it. But the broch is nearby in case of attack.

  As we enter the chief’s house, I am struck by a strange sensation. After the grandeur of the Academy, the buildings here look small and plain. To the invading Romans, we must seem like barbarians.

  The gray-haired man gestures for us to wait inside the door. A chicken approaches, gets a good look at Tyler, and then flaps away with a squawk.

  I smell meat cooking, and it brings back memories of my childhood. My mother taught me every step of food preparation, from the slaughter to the table.

  I feel my nerves jangling. Soon, I will meet my mother and father! I must warn them of the threat, but that is not my on
ly reason for coming. I miss them badly. Though I came to love Mrs. Allen, she was no substitute for my real mother.

  The gray-haired man returns and ushers us into a small room with a bear skin stretched across the floor.

  My mother and father sit in a pair of simple wooden chairs on the far side of the room. They look so young! In fact, I think they are younger than I am. This is all so strange.

  My mother gasps as she sees me, and my father leaps to his feet, his hand running through his long red hair. He slowly approaches, his eyes studying the tattoos on my legs.

  “Who are you? Who marked you?”

  As much as I long to tell him the truth, I know I would not be believed.

  “I am Rose, from a southern clan, far from here. My tattoos were given to me by a powerful dragon mage. I have learned I am the elder sister of Broicc, and I have come to warn her of impending danger.”

  His pale green eyes widen in astonishment.

  My mother stands, approaching with a troubled expression. Looking at her is like looking into a mirror. We are almost twins, save for her blue eyes.

  Her voice trembles as she speaks. “This cannot be. I have no sister.”

  I hold my hand out to her. “I was captured in a raid, before you were born. I did not know of you until recently.”

  She reaches out, touching me briefly, as if my hand was a snake.

  My father kneels for a closer look at the tattoos on my legs.

  “This work is very much like my own. Who is this dragon mage?”

  “Chief Dornodech, Lady Broicc, I mean no disrespect, but we have no time for idle banter. The Romans are coming with a new and terrifying weapon. They plan to kill the dragons, along with your entire clan.”

  My father’s face tightens. “That makes no sense. The dragons have entered their final slumber. They pose no threat to anyone.”

  “Final slumber?”

  “The decades of sleep they must endure to pass through to the Otherworld.”

  I don’t remember any of this.

  “Apologies, Chief Dornodech. I do not understand.”

  He looks at me, puzzled by my confusion. “The dragons have chosen to leave the world of men. With each year of sleep, they drift closer to the Otherworld. Some have already departed, but most have at least ten years remaining. Why would the Romans want to kill them, and what is this new weapon?”