“Which ones?” asked Jack. “They go in two different directions.”
“Let’s follow the ones carrying the metal,” said William. “I’d rather see that than a garbage pile.”
They were forced to wait, as the smelted metal piled up more slowly than the waste. Eventually one beast took on a load and embarked on a new path, one that led them around and below the Elder’s den—or so William pictured it in his mind. They reached another open space where they saw several of the dragons with strange hands. He wished he could look closer to see how much they had in common with human hands, but he wasn’t willing to risk it.
Though nothing looked familiar to them, it had to be a manufacturing facility of some sort; the hammering sound alone was evidence enough. The handed dragons took raw material from the pile the cargo dragon provided, returned to what looked like a giant anvil, and began hammering it. White fire-dragons served as walking bellows, heating the metal on demand. William found himself amused to recall the words “manufacture” and “manipulate” both came from the Latin word for “hand.” He didn’t bother sharing that with the others.
“Can you figure out what they’re making?” asked Jack.
Rachel shook her head. “Not sure. But you know what we haven’t seen? Support structures. With all these tunnels, you’d think they’d need it.”
“Maybe they’ve got some sort of sense about it. There’s columns in all the big chambers.” Jack pointed at a crafter at the far end. “Look at that. I’d swear they used those things to smash the walls. But I thought their tails grew that way. How would they attach them?”
William stayed out of the conversation, as it was clear that they were talking only to each other, ignoring his presence completely. A lump grew in his throat, but he saw no point in complaining; it would only make it worse.
“Are those arrowheads?” asked Jack. He gestured toward another crafter.
“They look more like crossbow bolts,” said Rachel. “Interesting. I wonder if they hunt with those; they never shot them at us. Good thing too; they would do some serious damage.”
“I’m going to get a closer look,” said Jack.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” she asked.
Jack grinned. “What’s the worst that could happen?” The worst, it turned out, was a trumpet blast from a black guard, its meaning clear, and Jack scrambled away from the crafting area. “Okay, so that was a bad idea.”
By unspoken agreement they returned in the direction they came from. They had nothing else to do, so they took another look at the piles near the smelting dragons. A cargo beast dropped a fresh batch of rocks, and Jack eagerly sifted through them. He expressed surprise at how many stones appeared semi-precious or better. He found a particularly beautiful one and made a spectacle of offering it to Rachel.
William was in no mood for Jack’s antics. He had watched his half-hearted advances get rejected with amusement, but now that Rachel had warmed to him it was more than he could bear. “I’m heading back,” he told them. “My leg is killing me.” After a short time he heard their footsteps behind him, but despite their better legs they never caught up with him. William was fine with that.
Jack and Rachel were eager to discuss what they had seen, but they found an unwilling audience in Maya, and a silent one in Charlie. This pattern remained for the next few days, or at least what felt like days without the rising and setting of the sun. William kept the peace as best he could, alternating between exploring with Jack and Rachel and helping Maya find a cure for the dragons. No one succeeded in their stated goals, but at least Jack discovered new kinds of dragons. He described tiny messengers, small enough to land on his hand, flitting about the tunnels. He had also spotted large silver dragons near work sites, and Jack swore one addressed him in English. Hermes had no word for them when asked, but there was every indication they were important in dragon hierarchy, perhaps even outranking the Ambassador himself. Perhaps they were the Elder’s children?
The giant black dragons still barred them from many tunnels, and still they had found no sign of an exit. Meanwhile, Maya’s frustration grew, her spat with Rachel preventing her from expressing it in a useful way. Normally she spoke to anyone who listened, but now she stubbornly refused to show weakness of any kind. It felt to William as though the two women were competing to see who spent their time the least uselessly. Neither said anything directly, but each made pointed comments from time to time that revealed their acrimony toward each other.
Maya spent most of her time with the sick dragons. Charlie brought his flute on those visits, and as William had expected it made approaching them easier. An audience of dragons followed Charlie when he played, and the “patients” were more relaxed about letting Maya examine them. The success ended there, however. William didn’t pretend to understand what she was looking for, but he knew that she hadn’t found it. She attempted to grow cultures from their wounds with what little equipment she had, but got no results. She experimented with different medicines she had packed, all to no avail. In desperation she asked for, and received, special dispensation to look for herbs outside—under guard, of course.
“Why did she get to go out, and no one else?” asked Rachel as she returned from another expedition with Jack. Maya refused to answer, and continued grinding herbs.
“Self-interest, I guess,” said William. “They want a cure even more than we do.”
“Not more than I do,” said Maya as she stomped away in search of a patient to treat.
“Can someone please tell me why she keeps trying,” said Rachel as soon as Maya was out of earshot. “It’s not like they deserve the help.”
“Look, Rachel, I don’t know why you’re upset about this,” said William. “There’s nothing else she can do; this is what she does. She heals things. Maybe it will pay off, maybe it won’t, but her only other options are to follow you guys around, or to sit here and do nothing. And for the record, following you guys around isn’t much fun, either.”
William expected a heated response, but they remained silent and ignored him. He wished they would either come around to his point of view or argue with him about it, but not knowing what they thought was worse. He passed the time by pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t have to talk to them. He must have been tired, because the next thing he knew he woke to the sound of Maya cursing.
“What happened?” Jack asked.
“They died, is what happened!” she said. “Three of them, right in front of me. I watched them carry the bodies out. King’s blisters, why can’t I figure this out?” She kicked her pack across the den, spilling its contents across the stone floor. She hammered her fists against the wall until Charlie intervened so she wouldn’t hurt herself. She relaxed and buried her face in his chest.
William couldn’t think of a single thing to say. What do you tell someone who feels guilty about three deaths despite her best efforts? Or was she embarrassed? He looked at Jack, but his friend shrugged helplessly. Rachel appeared conflicted, however. She approached Maya, her instinct to comfort overcoming her doubts. “It’s not your fault,” she said, gently touching Maya’s shoulder.
Maya whirled to face Rachel. “How would you know that?” she demanded.
“If you weren’t here, they would have died anyway, right? I mean, at least you didn’t make things worse.”
“You’ve already told me that what I’m doing is pointless. Now you’re saying I’m useless?”
“No! No…” Rachel struggled to find the words. “I’m saying it’s not your responsibility. You chose to help them; no one forced you.”
Maya gave her a sidelong glance, clearly not trusting Rachel’s line of reasoning. “I guess,” she said.
Encouraged by her success, Rachel continued. “Like I said, it wasn’t likely to come to anything anyway.”
“What do you mean?” asked Maya, turning a suspicious eye on Rachel.
“I—I just mean—even if you found a cure, they wouldn’t let us go anyway.”
“That’s not what you meant, and you know it,” said Maya as she pulled away from Rachel. “You still think I’m wasting my time. Well, let me ask you this: what have you done? It’s not like you’ve found a way to escape, is it?”
“Look, I’m sorry, I—”
“Oh, never mind.” Maya waved her hand at Rachel dismissively. “I’m tired, I’m upset, I’m angry. The last thing I need right now is a fight. What I need is to figure out why I can’t figure anything out.” As she slumped to the floor with her head in her hands, the only sound they heard was the rush of water from the underground stream and the occasional echoing whistle or bellow of a dragon. Even the din of the dragons’ hammering did not reach their den.
“Maybe we can help you think it through,” said William. The others agreed readily, if for no other reason than to relieve the tension. “What have you tried so far?”
Maya dropped her hands to her lap and counted on her fingers. “I’ve taken cultures from their wounds—no result, so it’s probably not a germ. I've tried all the medicines I brought, and nothing helped at all. Even the herbs had no effect, although I wasn’t expecting them to.”
“What about poison? That’s what we’re looking for anyway,” said Jack.
“The wounds wouldn’t be so localized,” said Maya, shaking her head. “It can’t be heavy metal poisoning, because they’d have to be immune to it since they work with metal. I don’t have any way to test for any other kinds of poison.”
“Maybe it’s a rash of some sort. Like an allergy?” said Rachel.
“I thought of that,” said Maya. “But we can’t think in human or mammal terms, though. Their skin is bizarre. It doesn’t seem to secrete fluids or have any pores, and this—stuff, whatever it is—gets underneath and eats away at it from inside.”
Rachel winced. “Ugh…sounds unhealthy. No way to cool or clean themselves.”
“That’s what’s so frustrating. Their skin isn’t even skin the way we think of it. It’s almost like clothing or armor.”
“My armor sometimes needs cleaning,” said Charlie. “Do we have any soap?”
The laughter died on William’s lips when he saw the look on Maya’s face. Charlie’s comment had given her an idea, and she sat in rapture, eyes unfocused. “Soap…could—no, there’s no way it could be that simple.”
“You mean they might just be dirty?” asked Jack. “This whole place is nothing but dust and rock. How could they possibly stay clean?”
“No, not dirty,” said Maya. She was getting animated now. “But soap is made with lye, which neutralizes acid. And it got me thinking, maybe what I’ve been looking at is acid burns. They look nothing like burns do on human skin, but like I said, their skin isn’t like ours.”
“From what?” asked Rachel.
“Who knows, but it’s worth testing.”
“Okay, but where do get lye?” asked Jack. “We’re nowhere near town, and I’m sure the Elder won’t let us leave and get some.”
Maya laughed. “What did they teach you in school, Jack? We make it from ashes. And water; we need lots of water. Here, fill these pots.” Charlie and Rachel each grabbed two pots and ran to get water. “Okay, we need a cloak, or something to hold the ashes and act as a filter. Are you sure?” she asked William as he offered his own. “It’s going to get dirty.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll clean it after. This is important.”
“Okay, now a tripod. Will, do you still need your crutch? No? Good. Jack, grab a couple more branches the same size from that pile.” Soon they had built an apparatus where water could be filtered through the ash-filled cloak into the large pot below. They passed the water through several times, producing a batch of slimy, soapy water.
“And now to test it,” said Maya. She filled a few bottles with lye water and turned to Charlie. “Bring your flute. They may need calming if this doesn’t work. Oh, and guys…don’t use those pots to make dinner. Cross your fingers for me.”
The concoction succeeded beyond Maya’s expectations. It wasn’t a complete cure, but it proved her suspicions that the wounds were, in fact, acidic in nature. More importantly, it stopped the burns from spreading. Soaking the skin with lye was not enough; she had to pierce the surface of the hide and pour it in. The hide did not appear to have any pain sensors, but she learned quickly to avoid deep cuts lest the patient recoil in pain. She could judge from the bubbling that resulted exactly how much solution to use, and the relief was immediate in all but the most extreme cases.
Later, she explained the process to the Ambassador who then put dozens of excavator and cargo dragons to work following her instructions. Copper dragons smashed and chiseled two large pits connected by a narrow, shallow channel. Cargo dragons brought huge quantities of wood which the smelting dragons burned, after which the ashes were dumped into the flooded pit. Water trickled through the channel into the second pit, resulting in a giant bath of lye water.
The bath was easy for the dragons both to maintain and use. They could not spare crafting dragons to cut skin and apply the solution directly, but soaking in the bath alleviated that need. Each afflicted dragon, beginning with those most affected, soaked themselves until the burning stopped. Some needed repeated treatments, but by the time William and the others bedded down for the night, most of the sick dragons had returned to work, and the infirmary’s population began to drop.
Maya’s breakthrough had given the dragons time to heal themselves. William knew this might go a long way to getting the Elder to release them, and he had high hopes that Chronos might acknowledge a debt of gratitude. It would only be fair and reasonable. But for some reason his palms began to sweat when the Elder summoned him.
The feudal system adopted by the Colonists resulted in problems similar to those encountered in systems used during Earth’s medieval period. Among these was the issue of inheritance. If property were split between all children, land parcels would shrink over generations. A doctrine of primogeniture was adopted to keep political boundaries intact, with provisions to split fiefs if the vassal lord agreed. This was generally granted if income from the lands in question were large enough to support such a split.
An unintended consequence of this system is that most second, third and subsequent sons of titled lords were often disgruntled due to a lack of inheritance.
Planet of Hope: A History of Esperanza
They were given permission to leave.
The Elder responded to Maya’s cure with gratitude, as William had hoped. However, the Elder stressed that their freedom depended on swearing not to reveal the dragons’ presence. “That’s not fair,” said Jack. “How can we trade with them if we have to keep them a secret? If we flood the markets with metal, someone’s bound to ask questions.”
Everyone else was relieved, though. With relief came clearer minds, and William reminded them all of what even he had forgotten about: “We still have to find where the poison is coming from. Isn’t it too much of a coincidence that we find dragons in the same direction as the poison? We need to keep looking around here.”
Rachel gave him an icy stare. “You mean we finally get released, and the first thing you want to do is stay here?”
“Will makes a good point,” said Maya, whose grudge against Rachel had not been completely forgotten. “I was so busy curing their illness—and gaining our freedom—that I didn’t even think about the river.” William wished Maya wouldn't taunt Rachel like that. True, Rachel hadn’t apologized, but unlike Maya she at least seemed willing to drop the matter and stop arguing.
“Well, maybe the dragons will let us look in places we couldn’t before,” said Jack.
“We should start outside,” said William. “At least that way we can search for the spot where the poison enters the river.”
“Have you forgotten that there are people out there who want us dead?” asked Rachel.
“King’s beard,” said William. “Yes, I did forget.” He drummed his fingers on his kne
e as he pondered the dilemma. “No matter what, we have to leave eventually. We may as well see what’s out there. We can always come back in if we need to.”
“And lead the bandits into the dragon hive?” asked Jack. “As fun as that sounds, I don’t believe Chronos would appreciate it.”
“Fine,” said William. “Let’s ask if they have any other exits we can try first. Hopefully the bandits won’t be watching there. But we still tell them nothing about the poison in the river. Agreed?”
Hermes showed them several concealed exits in ravines and crevices. It took several minutes for their eyes to adjust to the first sunlight they had seen in days. When their vision returned they saw they had exited farther north than they intended. They had not told the dragons what they were looking for, asking only to be led away from where they had last seen the bandits. Maya tested the small creeks around them for the sake of certainty; as she suspected, they were clean. “These streams are probably just snow-melt,” she said. “We need to get closer to the river to have any hope of finding the source.”
As they trekked southward William sent Rachel to scout the surrounding area, partly to determine if the bandits were near, but also so he could talk to Jack alone. “This fight between Maya and Rachel is driving me crazy,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” said Jack.
“Should I say something? Try to help them…I don’t know…get over it?”
“Sure, if you want to fan the flames, go ahead.”
“What do you mean?” asked William.
“Well, what could you possibly say? No matter what, you’ll have to tell at least one of them they’re wrong or acting immature. Maybe both.”
“But they are!”
“Sure, but do you think they want to hear that? Besides, they’ll probably both start fighting with you instead.”
It was true; he had caused the exact same thing when he tried to intervene in Jack and Rachel’s spat. Not worth it, he decided. Say something now, and it can’t be unsaid. Wait, and he could say something later if he needed to.
The Defender of Rebel Falls: A Medieval Science Fiction Adventure (The William Whitehall Adventures Book 1) Page 17
