Dragon Green

by Macy Babineaux

  “What situation?” Sorian asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say just now,” Vander said. That wasn’t exactly true. But he didn’t like being threatened, and he didn’t particularly like Sorian Nightshadow. So he wasn’t going to tell him a word. He was going to stand his ground. Nightshadow would need to swallow his pride. Even if he didn't, there was no way he was going to start something here and now.

  A smile slid across Sorian’s lips, though his eyes remained just as hard. “Three days,” he said. “We will return then. You will fulfil your vows or a shadow may fall on this idyllic little island of yours.”

  And now he was not even bothering to veil his threats. The ass. But Vander was far less afraid of Sorian than of whatever the oracle had been about to see in her black orb. He had a feeling that shadow was far darker and far worse than any Sorian might cast.

  But Vander smiled as cheerfully as he could and held his hand out to Sorian. “I swear it will be so.”

  The black king looked down at Vander’s open hand, waiting just long enough for the insult to sink in before finally extending his own. His grip was cold and clammy, but strong.

  “Let us hope our next meeting fares better,” Sorian said. He turned to Nevra. “Let us go now.”

  “Would you not care to stay for dinner?” Hywin asked. Vander had almost forgotten she was there.

  “No,” Sorian said. “We need to—”

  He was interrupted by his daughter springing forward to Vander. He flinched as she wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up on her toes to kiss him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and violently licked across his upper teeth. Her lips were cool and tasted of anise.

  She pulled back just as suddenly, giggled, and returned to her father’s side. “Until we meet again, fiancé,” she said, giving him a wink.

  He was a little stunned, only able to give her a nod in return. Yes, he thought, that one is going to keep me on my toes.

  Father and daughter stepped to the clearing on the veranda and transformed together, becoming dragons as shiny and black as pools of fresh tar. They took to the air together as well, the force of the air from their wings blowing Vander’s hair back. Hywin nearly fell over.

  “Well, they are certainly an interesting pair,” she said.

  “Mm,” Vander thought. That was so. But he didn’t have time to dwell on the Nightshadows. He needed to fly to the north. He had a queen to meet.

  He flew over the volcanic vent that separated the deserts of the Wildfires from the Icelands in the north. He had come alone, and there had been no time to send a bird ahead of him with news of his arrival. He hoped his welcome wouldn’t be too chilly.

  Vander hadn’t met the new Everfrost queen yet, but he knew Corban. The blue king was aloof. You never quite knew what he was thinking behind those pale blue eyes of his. But all the dragons of the realm were at peace, were they not?

  He wasn’t sure exactly what he was going to say yet. I met with the merfolk oracle this morning and she told me to ask you for help just before her eyes turned black and melted from their sockets? Perhaps best to start by asking for help first and see where that took him.

  As he passed into the snowy landscape of the north, he saw the freshly-fallen snow, the blue peaks of the mountains over his left wing, and herds of elk running below. This would be his third time to visit the north, and he hated it. Give him a sandy beach heated by the sun anytime. He could already feel frost forming on his wings and his mood began to sour.

  He flapped them faster, trying to keep warmer and make better time, and before long he saw the stone parapets of the Everfrost castle ahead in the distance. Vander kept patrols flying around the perimeter of the Emerald Isle. As relaxed as he was, he didn’t like surprises. But he saw no such defenses as he approached the ice palace.

  He knew there was a courtyard in the center, but it would be presumptuous to fly directly into the middle of the structure. He opted instead to land well outside the main gate.

  His green claws crushed the snow beneath them as he landed, billowing up clouds of white. He tucked his wings behind his back and shifted into human form.

  The massive oak doors of the castle glistened with ice. No guards stood outside. He was wondering whether he should approach and try to knock, or perhaps yell, when he was surprised by the sound of ice cracking.

  Fresh icicles fell from the arch of the gate, splintering as they hit the ground. The heavy doors swung open.

  Vander had thought he would have to explain himself to guards. He thought he might have to argue, to urgently plead his case. What he didn’t expect was for the Everfrost queen to be the first to emerge from between the giant wooden doors.

  She wore a scarlet dress laced with icy blue trim, elegant and regal. He had heard she had been raised on Earth but to everyone’s surprise, she had turned out to be dragonborn. Whatever her lineage and upbringing, she was a stunning woman, with black hair and dark eyes under long lashes. But those beautiful eyes looked troubled.

  He saw something else on her face. She was not surprised to see him. Despite not receiving word, she had been expecting him. How could that be?

  She stopped ten paces before him, her hands crossed across her stomach.

  “You’re Vander Tanglevine,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” he said. “And you are Miranda Everfrost.”

  “I am,” she said.

  “You knew I was coming,” Vander said. “Do you already know why I am here?”

  “I know you need my help,” Miranda said. “But I’m not sure how I’m supposed to help you. Come inside and maybe we can figure it out together.”

  She led him back in through the gate, the heavy doors closing shut behind them. The walls of the castle were iced stone, strong but cold. As they walked through the place, Vander shivered. How did anyone live like this?

  Miranda led him to a small chamber on the ground floor, warm with the heat from a huge fireplace piled high with glowing logs. Better, he thought. Two heavy leather chairs faced one another in front of the hearth, and Miranda motioned for him to sit.

  “After you, my lady,” he said.

  She smiled, but he could still see the fear and worry in her eyes. “Good manners,” she said. “The way Corban talks about the green dragons, I thought you were all—”

  She stopped herself, blushing.

  “Brutes?” he finished for her.

  “No,” she said, trying to smile again. “I was going to say something even worse. But that’s not a good way to start.” She sat down and he followed suit.

  “Something tells me we have bigger things to worry about than offenses of manner,” Vander said. “Where is the king, by the way?”

  Her eyes flickered for a moment before answering. “Hunting elk,” she said. He suspected it was a lie, but the whereabouts of Corban Everfrost weren’t foremost in his mind.

  “I was actually going to say savages,” she said quickly. They looked at each other wordlessly for a moment, then laughed. She had a lovely laugh, though even that seemed strained. Had she seen the vision that the oracle had not?

  Miranda flagged down a passing servant girl and asked her to bring some spiced ale. The way she talked to her was interesting, asking politely rather than simply demanding. He liked this woman.

  “You go first,” she said.

  “Very well,” Vander said, “I need to go to Earth.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay.”

  The girl arrived with two steaming mugs of ale. Vander took his and smelled the warm scent of cinnamon. He thanked the girl and took a sip. It was delicious, heating his throat and belly with the taste of some dark, sweet berry, the spice making his nostrils tingle. He raised his cup to Miranda and took another drink.

  “Can you help me?”

  He saw her put her hand up to her throat. A strange gesture in response to his question.

  “I think so,” she said. “I mean, I’ve done it before. But I never though
t I’d need to send anyone else, or go back myself. Why do you need to go?”

  “There’s something I need to get,” he said. “A very old weapon. A trident that belonged to my ancestors. I was told I would need it to help defeat—”

  “A demon,” Miranda said.

  “Yes,” Vander said. And now, hearing her say the word, the idea didn't seem foolish anymore. “I think so. How do you know of it?”

  She looked into the fire, the shadows flickering across her troubled face. “I have nightmares,” she said. “Every time I sleep now.”

  As if the episode with the oracle weren’t enough to convince him, now he knew the threat was real. On the flight here he had hoped it might just be some terrible mistake, that the oracle had been wrong or misguided. But now he no longer doubted.

  “I’ll help you,” Miranda said, looking from the fire to the mug resting in her lap. She hadn’t taken a sip. “At least I’ll try. But I’m not going with you. I have other responsibilities now.”

  He didn’t know what that might mean, but it wasn’t his place to ask. It was enough that she was willing to help.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I understand.”

  She let out a bitter little laugh. “I’m glad somebody does.”

  “Yes, well, I was tasked with finding the trident,” he said. “You will have done enough by helping me travel to your world.”

  She looked up into his eyes. There was a steely resolve there that he hadn’t seen before. “I’m assuming time is short?”

  He grinned. “Of course,” he said. “I will find the weapon and return as quickly as I can. But while I am there, is there anything you would wish me to bring back? Something from your world that you have missed?”

  A smirk formed at the edge of her mouth. “You know, boar and elk are great and all, but sometimes I get a hell of a craving for a cheeseburger.”

  “A cheeseburger,” he said. He guessed it was some kind of food, but the word sounded so strange rolling from his tongue. “It will be done. I will find you one while I am there.”

  Miranda laughed again. “No, that’s fine. I was just…you have bigger things to worry about.”

  “As you say,” Vander said.

  Miranda pushed herself up out of the chair. “Are you ready?” she asked. “Do you need any supplies or anything?”

  He froze, the mug still clutched in his hand. He hadn’t expected things to move this quickly. “I…yes,” he said. “I mean, yes, I’m ready. But no, I don’t need anything else. Not that I know of.” He took another gulp of the spiced ale, then set the mug on the floor and stood. “How big is your world? How will you know where to send me?”

  “I still don’t have a great idea about how all this works,” Miranda said. “When I’ve done this before, I’ve just trusted my gut.” She put her hand at her throat again. “And this.”

  He didn’t understand. But that wasn’t important, as long as she got him to where he needed to be. She must have seen the confusion on his face, because she smiled.

  “You’re looking for this trident, right?” she asked. “Just think about it. Concentrate on it. I’ll try to create a portal, and hopefully you'll be taken to the right spot.”

  Hopefully. He didn't particularly like that word here.

  “How will I return?”

  She furrowed her brow at that, thinking. Then her eyes brightened. “I’ll open the portal once a day at the same time,” she said.

  “Very well,” Vander said. “I am ready.” He closed his eyes and thought of the trident. He’d never seen it, of course, but he thought of the idea of it, a powerful weapon clutched in the right hand of the god of the seas. He heard a strange crackling and his nostrils stung with the smell just before an ocean storm. But he tried to keep his mind focused on the weapon, holding it in his mind, trying to make it real with his thoughts.

  “It’s ready,” she said, her voice strained.

  Vander opened his eyes, then squinted at the bright orange light. To his amazement, a circle ringed by glowing flame stood in the center of the room. He could see things on the other side, strange buildings in the night and pools of purple-white light.

  “Hurry,” Miranda said. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it open.” Her hands were clutched at her throat, which was glowing a bright yellow. Miranda’s eyes glowed the same color.

  Vander nodded and stepped through the ring. It was night in this new world, cool and quiet but for a lone cricket chirping.

  “I’ll open it tomorrow,” said Miranda, her voice seeming far away now. He guessed it was. She was in another world, the one he was leaving behind.

  “I’ll be he—” he began, but the circle collapsed with a cracking noise, some unseen force knocking him backwards off his feet.

  He sat up on his elbows and looked around. This was the center of some kind of courtyard. Lush grass was damp with night dew. Smooth stone walkways intersected one another in the middle. And all around were the most perfectly-shaped block buildings he had ever seen, with rectangular windows all filled with precisely-cut glass. Either the stone and glass workers here were far more skilled than any in Xandakar, or the crafting had been aided by magic.

  Vander grunted and climbed to his feet, dusting himself off. He had thought of the trident and Miranda’s portal had sent him here. But where was that? And which way should he go? The buildings surrounding him all rose up two to four stories, and each looked the same. Should he try to enter one?

  Then as if in answer, he saw a pale white light in the window of a building to his left. He saw a woman with shoulder-length blond hair and spectacles on her face bent over some kind of box. Though his eyesight was extremely keen, he could not make out much more than that. But this was the first person he had seen on Earth. He would speak to her and try to find out what she might know.

  He began walking toward the building, and halfway there, the woman stood and the pale light faded away. Does she live there? he wondered. If not, perhaps she was leaving. He headed for a strange pair of glass double doors just in case she was on her way out.

  4

  BRYNN

  She hunched over her computer, staring at the symbols from the door in the desert. She’d taken dozens of pictures of the frame, the message, and then the exterior of the hatch before heading back to the college. When she’d gotten to her office, she’d scanned the clearest photo of the message into her machine, then began the analysis.

  Over the years, Brynn had pieced together her own dictionary of sorts, best guesses at what certain symbols might mean. She’d also written a program that would isolate individual symbols from any new sample she found and conduct an image search across the internet for similar pictograms. Usually these searches yielded a ton of results, which she’d have to sift through manually.

  That’s what she was doing now. She’d run a query isolating a symbol that sort of looked like a pair of wings. She’d gotten thousands of hits, but most of them were junk. Her eyes were starting to hurt. She had hoped she could work through until morning, that the excitement of the discovery would power her through.

  But between the three-hour drive and the tedium of working on the translation, she was starting to crash. She looked at the time in the lower corner of her monitor: 3:08 AM. Next to the keyboard was a giant can with a squiggly neon green X. She was halfway through her second can, but her stomach lurched just looking at it. No way she was going to make it until morning. She’d hit the wall. Everything on her screen was starting to swim and blur in front of her eyes.

  Brynn stood up from the desk and stretched. She considered just catching a quick nap in the faculty lounge. No, she thought. Better to just go back to the apartment and catch a few hours of sleep. Then I can be back here a little fresher in the morning. It was Friday. At least she thought it was. No one would be around tomorrow. She could work all day.

  She bent down to turn off the machine when her image-match software dinged. That meant a high-value hit. Not just a matc
h on the image itself, but on the context as well.

  She stopped the search and looked at the latest result. The match had been found in the footnote of some obscure volume that had been scanned in by a book dealer in Denver, Colorado. The book was a non-fiction work about primitive weaponry and metallurgy, of all things, and the symbol had apparently been engraved along the base edge of a Chinese sword of unknown date and origin. But it had been written alongside traditional Chinese writing, and the author had interpreted it in context to mean “of dragon descent” as if the sword were meant to kill dragons.

  Brynn looked at the rest of the message and what she’d been able to work out so far. The only other symbols she was reasonably sure about had to do with some kind of warning, and the word for “open”. If she were going to make a best guess right now, the message said something like:

  GREETINGS. WARNING: something-something THE ONLY OPENING IS FOR something-something OF DRAGON DESCENT.

  And that was just the first part of the message. She only had a solid lead on one symbol in the second part, and that was probably “death”. Probably a curse of death for anyone who entered, which was a common admonition among sealed tombs or holy places.

  She stood up again and rubbed her eyes. This was interesting, but she wasn’t sure how it was going to help. She needed sleep. Even worse, she needed a shower. She was still wearing the same clothes she’d picked up off the camper floor that morning, and she was starting to be able to smell herself.

  Okay, she thought. Time to scoot. She turned off the monitor, stuffed the photos and other documents in her satchel, and headed for the door.

  Her office was on the second floor of Wilcox Hall, where most of the faculty consisted of history professors. She was only one of two archaeologists, but to give that title to Denton Cooper was being generous. The man was pushing eighty-five, but didn’t seem interested in retiring. He didn’t seem very interested in archaeology, either. He came in, taught his classes in a sonorous monotone, and ate lunch by himself in the cafeteria. Brynn had tried to talk shop with him once, but that had been a disaster. She thought he was a dried-up relic. And like everyone else in her field, he thought she was a kook.