by James Maxey
I sagged, resting my hands on my knees, catching my breath, as Princess Innocent placed her mouth against the fresh wound she’d gouged in the she-dragon and sucked up the oozing blood. With every mouthful, she grew a little larger. The gown she wore tightened, then split along the seams.
After a moment the princess sat back and wiped the bright green blood from her face. She had a woman’s body now, over a foot taller than when she’d started her feast, with magnificent breasts I instantly recognized. Before me was the woman I’d known all these years, her silver hair long and gleaming, her skin pale beneath blood and shredded gown, completely free of pygmy dyes. Innocent looked like Infidel once more.
I smiled at the perfect logic of the magic unfolding before me. Infidel hadn’t been created when a dragon devoured a princess. Infidel had been born when a princess devoured a dragon.
Infidel looked slightly drunk, oblivious to her surroundings as the dragon blood settled into her belly. Yet, as she surveyed the forest with her glazed eyes, her face broke into a giant grin as her gaze reached me. She cried, “Stagger!”
“Infidel!” I answered, throwing my arms open as I hobbled toward her.
She jumped from the corpse and bounded toward me like a sprightly gazelle. I flinched as she reached me, her arms wrapping around me, braced for significant damage to my ribs. However, her hug, while robust, seemed to have only ordinary strength behind it. I bent my face down to gaze at her in wonder, but instantly closed my eyes as she pressed her lips to mine. The green blood still on her cheeks smelled like papaya. Her sticky tongue slid between my teeth. I hugged her back with all my might and kissed her till we were both dizzy.
Not metaphorically dizzy, mind you, but actual stumble-and-collapse-from-lack-of-air dizzy. We fell, landing atop the red cape that lay over the leafy earth like a bedspread. Only the impact of the ground made our lips pull apart. I was on top of her, staring down into her sea-gray eyes and all the words and wisdom and wonder that they contained. Her body beneath mine was hot as a furnace. Where our skin met through our tattered clothing, it was slippery from dragon blood and my own blood and a copious amount of sweat. Our breaths intermingled as we studied each other’s faces and for the span of several heartbeats it felt as if all was right with the universe.
Except, alas, it wasn’t.
“As much as I hate to ruin this moment, the world might come to a fiery end if we don’t go kill Greatshadow’s spirit,” I whispered.
“The world can wait,” she replied, as she placed her hand in my tangled hair and drew my mouth to hers once more.
Fortunately, she’d left the bone-handled knife in the dragon’s blood. For the events which followed, it was useful to be in full, unmuted possession of all my senses, and to have a heart free to pump blood to wherever it was needed.
As we kissed, her gentle fingers slowly pulled away the damaged rags that had once been my shirt. My own fingers slipped into the strained seams of her gown and completed the tearing, freeing her from her silken confinement.
And then…
And then…
And then…
Shall I tell you how she looked, bare beneath me, the body of an angel wearing the grin of a devil, hungry for pleasure? Shall I tell you of the noises that came from deep within her, the guttural growls, the sibilant songs, the barely-voiced moans as my mouth fell against her skin? Shall I tell you how she tasted, all sweetness and salt, of the wine that was her sweat and spit and tears? Or how she smelled, like earth, like ocean, like sunlight, a symphony of aromas where every scent note built to a perfect crescendo?
And shall I tell you how she felt? Do I even possess the vocabulary to describe the smooth, slick landscape of her body, the warm terrain so full of curves and creases, the silken softness overlaying muscle and bone of breathtaking artfulness? Can I possibly find the vocabulary to describe the magic of feeling her heart beating as I pressed my lips against her throat, the steady thump, thump, thump a drum beating out a single message of life, life, life, so elegant and simple it moved me to tears?
No. No, I don’t believe I can tell you of these things, and I don’t believe that I should.
But they happened all the same.
Since I cannot tell you about the unspeaking wonder of the moments that followed my reunion with Infidel, allow me to fill you in on what was occurring back in the real world with Relic and Zetetic. While I wasn’t personally witness to these events, I have since learned enough to reconstruct the moment: Zetetic and Relic had freed the Gloryhammer from where it was partially trapped beneath freshly cooling lava. I had wondered if the Gloryhammer would vanish like Tower’s armor, but apparently it was a far older creation, an enchanted weapon with a history dating back centuries, and Zetetic recounted this history to Relic with his usual enthusiasm for obscure magical lore.
As they spoke, Zetetic and Relic retreated to a perch atop Greatshadow’s skull, which rose like a little island from the lava plane. They amused themselves for a time by pulling possessions out of Tower’s sketchbook, including the Immaculate Attire, which Zetetic used as a seat on the still-hot skull. Several more slices of cake in various flavors were also retrieved, which they devoured with gusto.
As daylight faded they passed the time speculating as to what was happening elsewhere. For instance, Zetetic put forth the theory the fire Greatshadow had started in the monastery must have been brought under control, even though the last bolts from Tower’s armor had finally faded away. Some monks had survived, Zetetic argued, since his heart was still beating.
Relic chuckled lowly in response and said, “You never died.”
“I was hanged,” said Zetetic.
“Yes. But your neck didn’t break. You suffocated, and merely passed out.”
“My neck was pure agony for a week after,” said Zetetic. “It certainly felt broken.”
“No doubt you’d injured some ligaments,” said Relic. “But Father Ver knew the truth. When they hung you, the noose was designed to suffocate you without severing your spine. You passed out from asphyxiation, feeling as if you were dying. When you woke up, you were told of your death, though it had never occurred. No monks have ever had to pray to keep you alive. I snatched the truth from Ivory Blade’s mind.”
“Oh,” said Zetetic, then burst out into raucous laughter.
“You’re relieved you need not fear imminent death?”
Zetetic wiped a tear from his eye. “There’s that. But I also appreciate the irony. How appropriate that I should be ensnared with a simple lie.”
They both sat quietly for a while, listening to the crackle of the stone cooling around them, until Zetetic asked, “How are we going to know if Stagger succeeds?”
“We shall know when the world doesn’t end,” said Relic.
“It’s not ending right now.”
“That we know of,” said Relic.
Zetetic nodded, pondering this. Then he said, “Do you think Stagger ever found the she-dragon or the princess?”
“Let us hope not,” said Relic.
“Why?”
“Because the princess would distract him. He would probably try to protect her from danger, which means he might not do what is needed to slay Greatshadow.”
“But maybe he’ll find the she-dragon,” said Zetetic.
Relic sighed. “In that case, the creature is probably chewing his flesh right now.”
And, in a way, he was right, since as my reunion with Infidel unfolded, I became increasingly decorated with bite marks.
But I’m not telling you of such things, am I?
Once we were too exhausted to continue the more athletic portion of our reunion, we wrapped our tenderized bodies in the red cloak, our limbs entangled as we slipped into a dreamy haze in which time lost all grip upon us. Infidel’s face was pressed up against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. She was so still and quiet I thought she’d gone to sleep, until she whispered, “You smell nice.”
I chuckled. “Innocent didn’t
think so.”
“Innocent didn’t know what was good for her. You, Stagger, are good for me. I was so lucky to know you.”
“Why are you speaking in the past tense?” I asked.
“You’re still dead, right? That wasn’t just some bad dream?”
My mouth went dry. “It wasn’t a dream,” I whispered. “I am dead. But I never left you; I’ve been with you every moment, haunting the bone-handled knife. And now we can be together forever.”
“Can we?” she asked, sounding skeptical.
“Can’t we?” I asked. “I guess, honestly, I don’t know. I don’t understand how things work here in the spirit world. Maybe there will never be any ending here.”
“But I don’t belong here,” she said. “I’m still alive. At least, I think I am. There’s this… tug… inside me. I feel like my time here is limited. Eventually, I’ll be drawn back to the real world.”
“I understand,” I said. “I wish I could come with you.”
“I don’t see why you can’t, if I can take the knife back. Haunting the blade that killed you. That’s kind of weird.”
“This coming from a woman with a belly full of dragon’s blood.”
Infidel sat up, frowning as she noticed the tangled green ribbons in her long hair. As she worked to unknot them, she said, “The first time I swallowed Verdant’s blood, it was dried up and concentrated. I could feel the power surging through my body. This time, it turned me back to my correct age, but I don’t feel super-strong.” She ran her fingers along a line of hickeys on her neck. “And I’m definitely not invulnerable.”
“Maybe things work differently here. Hopefully you’ll be back to your arm-ripping self when you get home.”
She looked up the slope toward the caldera. “I wish I knew how to get home. The only path I can think of leads straight through Greatshadow. The dragon must know how to travel between the spirit world and the material world, or Zetetic wouldn’t be worried.”
“We still have the Jagged Heart,” I said. “Even with just normal strength, we can take him.”
She sighed as she pulled the last ribbon free from her hair and tossed it away. “That’s so sad about Aurora,” she said, referring to a conversation we’d had during an earlier pause.
I sat up and rubbed her back. “She was a good friend.”
“She was my only friend,” said Infidel. “Except you.”
“I’ll always be with you,” I said.
She nodded gazing off into the distance. “Especially if the Black Swan is right.”
“About what? The dragon apocalypse?”
Infidel rolled her eyes. “About us having a daughter.”
Somehow, despite everything that we’d done together since our reunion, that possibility hadn’t crossed my mind. Could I really impregnate Infidel? Did this half-alive, materialized phantom body of mine have that power?
“You’re quiet,” she said, as I grew lost in thought. “Don’t you want her to be yours?”
I smiled as I lay back, pulling her down with me. “I want it so much, I think we should take at least one more run at increasing the odds.”
And then there was another hour that I can’t talk about.
“S TAGGER MUST HAVE gotten the job done by now,” said Zetetic. By now it had gotten really dark in the caldera. Outside the small circle of light cast by the Gloryhammer, ghostly flames flickered and danced above cracks in the ground, as gases beneath the earth seeped free and ignited.
“I’m not so certain,” said Relic. “I don’t feel… a release.”
“A release?”
“Like all dragons, I’m attuned to elemental forces. Greatshadow is still present in the flames surrounding us. He simply hasn’t gathered the strength yet to control them.”
“If he died, you could take over the element of flame? Just like that?”
Relic shrugged. “It would require time. How much is difficult to say.”
“How long did it take Greatshadow to master the element?”
“Though I have many of his memories, I can’t judge the time, since time as we know it wasn’t invented when my father was young.”
Zetetic looked perplexed.
“Before Glorious merged his spirit with the sun, the sun’s path was more chaotic. Years and days had no fixed length. Glorious inadvertently gave birth to human civilization when he guided the sun into a fixed path, making seasons predictable, and agriculture possible.”
“Amazing,” said Zetetic.
“Still, to answer your question as best I can, I expect it will take a decade or more to merge my soul with fire.”
“A decade doesn’t seem very long to achieve such power.”
“To you, perhaps. I’ve only been alive a few months. A decade seems unbearably long.”
Zetetic stroked his chin as he contemplated the small dragon. “You’re an interesting infant, Relic.”
“I don’t want to be called Relic any more.”
“Why not?”
“I used that name because I never was given another. But my father finally fulfilled this simple obligation, at least. He called me Brokenwing.”
“So he did. Little Brokenwing.”
“I won’t be using the ‘little,’” said the dragon, somewhat indignant.
“So, if Stagger fails, what are we going to do?” asked Zetetic.
Relic shook his head. “There’s no point in asking. Stagger is our only hope.”
Zetetic looked up into the darkness. “I wonder what’s taking so long to get the job done?”
If I’d been there to answer, I’d have reminded him that at fifty, my body isn’t quite as robust as it once was. It takes a little longer to get the job done.
And even longer to get the job done a third time. This dayless, nightless land provided few clues as to how much time had passed as we rested, utterly exhausted.
Infidel was using my hairy belly as a pillow, looking up at me with a dreamy gaze. Suddenly, her eyes widened.
“It’s so obvious!” she said, jumping to her feet.
“What’s obvious?”
“Dragon’s blood! You come back to life when the knife touches dragon’s blood. And, you came back to life when Nowowon gave you a drink of blood. So, to come back to life permanently, you need to drink dragon’s blood!”
I sat up, scratching my head. “You think it’s that easy?”
“Who’s the brain in this operation?” she said, placing her hands on her hips.
“Um,” I said, deciding to pretend I didn’t understand the question. Anyway, what could it hurt? She scrambled toward the fallen body of her dragon-self.
“Ow, ow, ow!” she said as she crossed over the ground. “Lots of sharp rocks under these leaves. I’m not used to being tender-footed.”
“You want to wear my boots?” I asked, wrestling to put on what remained of my pants.
“I’d slip right out of those things,” she said, scrambling onto the dragon corpse. “I’ll wrap my feet in some cloth from the cape. Right now, you need to suck some dragon-blood.”
She grabbed the bone-handled knife, struggling to free it. She gouged a new hole on the side of the hip. Gore the consistency and color of pea soup oozed out.
My lips were tender from Infidel’s nibbles, but I heroically pressed them to the scaly hide of the corpse and sucked. The blood was sticky, as difficult to swallow as molasses, and the fruity flavor I had tasted on Infidel’s tongue had a sourness when drank directly that grew more unbearable the longer it sat in my mouth. It took a few moments to force down a cup of the stuff.
“Ugg,” I said, wiping my lips. “I’m used to putting bad things in my mouth, but this is fairly rotten.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Fantastic!” I said. “But I’ve felt that way ever since we’ve been back together. Just being able to talk to you again is more magical than dragon’s blood.”
“Maybe you won’t notice any changes to your body until we get back to
the real world,” she said, studying my bruised frame with a critical eye.
“That’s probably how it works,” I said, hoping it was true.
She sat down on the she-dragon’s log-like foot and began to cut the lower edges of my cape into strips with the knife. She wrapped her feet in the thick velvet, forming what could have passed as ballerina slippers. They looked surprisingly functional; Infidel had a lot of experience improvising with clothing. She took what remained of my shirt, tore off the shredded sleeves, and wore it like a tunic, cinching it at the waist with a belt made from the braided sleeve rags.
I dressed while she worked, slipping my boots back on. Since I was shirtless, I decided I’d wear what was left of the cape. I brushed off the twigs and leaves, and noticed a snarl of long, tangled hair. I looked at it closer, unable to tell if it had come out of my scalp or hers, and finally decided it was a little of both. Inspired by the intertwined fibers, I began to wrap the long strands around my little finger, tucking and twisting them until I formed a small braided ring. It barely fit on my little finger. I braided another, slightly larger. I finished my efforts just as she jumped down from the log.
I dropped to one knee before her and took her hand.
“I don’t know if this counts, since there’s no church, no priest, and, alas, no wedding cake. But, my parents never got married, and I want our daughter to grow up respectable. So, Infidel, with this ring, I thee wed, if you’ll have me.”
I paused before I slipped the smaller hair ring onto her finger, looking into her face. Her eyes were wet as she nodded and said, “I do.”
The ring fit perfectly; the silver in her hair and the gray in mine even gave it a bit of sparkle. “It’s not exactly gold and glorystone,” I said.
“It’s far more precious,” she whispered, pulling me close. I handed her the larger ring. She slipped it onto my finger.
At this point, I should probably switch to another interlude in the material world, but, alas, there really wasn’t anything interesting going on there. So I’ll just skip ahead to the part where we got dressed again.
