Dragonstorm

by Mirren Hogan

  Immediately. The thing with bullies is that they're often cowards too. Judging by the patch of damp he left behind, he was no exception.

  She grimaced. "At least I haven't done that." Yet.

  No, you are braver than he ever was. He wished to bond a dragon, but none of us would have him, so he became bitter. And you, who came to Tsaisa for other reasons, bonded me. Sometimes the ways of life defy reason.

  "Don't tell the reasoners that," she said with irony. "What would you have done if you'd had to bond him?"

  I would not. Back in those days, people would line up to bond us. Some would wait years for the opportunity. Many still failed in this. They were tested for their physical and mental endurance, but that didn’t mean that any dragon would find them worthy.

  "How did you choose?"

  I would look into their minds. Some may say I intruded, but they were ones not chosen.

  Dashka understood how those rejected might turn bitter. Waiting for years for a dragon, and then not being found suitable would sting, to say the least. "What did you look for in there?" She wondered if he'd seen things in her mind that she wasn't aware of.

  I looked for intelligence, kindness and a true willingness to bond. Many times, a person would claim to be ready and willing, but they had doubts. Sometimes they were only there because their families wished it. Their minds might eventually reject the bond and break, or harbour resentment.

  "You saw all of those in me?" It was odd to think of herself from the point of view of another, especially a dragon. She'd never considered that they had opinions, or feelings. But then, she'd never given them much thought at all, apart from the resentment she'd learned from her aunt. Now that she thought about it, she'd heard nothing from Uncle Huberth but praise for the creatures. After this, she should go home and see him. There was much she hadn't known, or understood, which she wanted to discuss with him.

  All of those and more, Nehko assured her. You have an interesting, complex mind, a keen sense of fun and a great amount of compassion. And you're open to new things.

  "I'm restless, have a short attention span, am curious to a fault and have a soft spot for injured animals," she replied, giving a laugh.

  You're also humble, he added, but you should not be downplaying your good qualities. You seem to perceive them as a weakness, or shortcomings.

  "They drove my aunt crazy," she said, "and my late husband." Reason, she hadn't thought about Jarn in weeks. Their marriage seemed like such a long time ago, she could hardly reconcile it as a part of her life anymore. All of that had happened to another Dashka, perhaps one lost at the bottom of the Durza river or covered in a cloud of plaster in Paryos. Both events had led her to be here, right now, and they'd changed her forever. They'd made her more cautious, less inclined to jump in without a lot of thought. It was something she didn't like about herself now.

  You are brave, he said. Evidently, he'd been listening in on her thoughts. Trauma closes the minds of many a person. The draakin aren't immune to it, although we can help them through it. After what you survived, your mind remained open. You accepted Kaida and the dragons as your friends, even when you might have run home. I know the fear you felt when you saw us before you knew us. For many, that would have been insurmountable.

  "And what if it had?" she asked. "What if I had been unsuitable for you to bond?"

  I would have died, he replied, sounding more accepting of the fact than she'd have been. There were no suitable minds in Tsaisa but yours.

  "Just like that, you'd have . . ." she swallowed back a knot of sadness.

  No, it would have taken time. Days, perhaps weeks. I'd grow sad, stop eating and drinking and my body would succumb.

  "Oh." Dashka sniffed and blinked back tears. "You've seen it happen, haven't you?"

  Yes. Risper's sibling Anvera. Her second bonded was killed by a woman who wanted the bond for herself. Anvera was devastated, not only at her loss, but that a human would do that to get her. She refused to take anyone else, no matter how much we pleaded. The killer was executed by being thrown off the Dragonhall, but that was not enough to appease her.

  "Thrown off the—" Dashka swallowed. "Did that happen often?"

  Back then it did, but that was a very long time ago.

  "I see." Dashka risked a peek at the ground, trying to conjure up some of her suppressed bravery. Up ahead she saw a cluster of buildings rising from amongst the trees and slopes of the mountain. She looked back up to see Kaida waving and gesturing east of the town. For a moment she wasn't sure what the other draakin was pointing to. Then she made out a building higher in the mountains, and a train track winding its way upward. It was an isolated place for a train to go to.

  "Is there room to land down there?" she asked. The trees pressed in around the holding, leaving precious little space for two dragons.

  Risper says he sees a place. We're to follow and land beside them.

  "All right." Dashka tightened her grip on her saddle as Nehko banked and came around the holding. At the end of the train tracks was a large yard, presumably for unloading supplies. Now it was full of reasoners; practicing and exercising. They stepped aside quickly, leaving room for the dragons to land. They might have moved out of self-preservation and not respect, but Dashka decided to take it as the latter. Whatever people might think of draakin, the dragons were impressive. For some, this was the first time seeing them up close. More than one mouth hung open in awe.

  Risper says to dismount. Kaida will meet you at that doorway.

  Dashka nodded and slid down before pulling her goggles up to the top of her head. On the ground, she felt much less significant, but she squared her shoulders and headed for the entrance to the holding.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Despite Del's best intentions, the new manufactory was already a mess. Reasoners had brought in benches and his machinery from Tsaisa, and he'd requested they leave it by the door for him to unpack and set up. They'd done as he asked, with obvious relief at not being required to sort out the pile of boxes.

  Now, after a few days of unpacking, arranging, and rearranging, the place was filled with empty and half empty boxes, straw from where items had been packed to prevent damage, and half put together pieces he'd left aside. For everything he'd started to put together, he'd found something more important to do.

  He grabbed a heavy table by one end and tugged it across the floor to the other side of the room. It scraped the entire way, playing on his nerves, but once there he decided it could stay. For now. He'd moved it several times already, but he had to organise everything to flow correctly.

  "I should have been able to get this done in my sleep," he muttered. But he still struggled. In Tsaisa, he'd constantly moved back and forth between pieces of equipment because nothing was arranged at it should be. It hadn't bothered him then, but it reduced productivity and he was determined not to let that happen here.

  He rubbed his chin and pushed the table over a little more. Shrugging, he started unpacking more bits and pieces and setting them up onto tables. At some point he'd find time to seek out people to help him. He was putting it off, he knew. The more he stayed in this building, with its sleeping room and his familiar work tools, the more he could pretend he was in Tsaisa. Leaving would only remind him he wasn't. He contemplated asking the general to choose people for him, but he wasn't up for making requests just yet.

  He pushed another table into place and started to unpack his firearms. He'd left these until almost last, not wanting to risk them getting damaged by falling boxes or reason knew what else. He cradled one across his arm and inhaled the familiar scent of black powder. The rest of the world retreated a little more when he was with his creations. Although his intention in making them was to ward off wild animals, if they'd help the reasoners to keep the peace in Dargyn, then he was proud to be a part of that.

  The sound of boots approaching broke him from his reverie and he quickly placed the firearm on a table. They might well think him odd a
lready but seeing him holding his creation like it was a baby might worsen that impression.

  Having assumed it was the woman who brought his meals, Del was surprised to see a young man step inside the building. At approximately Daven's age, the man exuded confidence and arrogance in a way neither Del nor his son ever could.

  "My name is Captain Andon Kriss." Smiling, the man held out a hand to Del.

  His hands greasy and covered with bits of straw, Del wiped them before shaking Andon's hand.

  "Del Issel, it's nice to meet you." Haze, he felt like a mist-headed country lout compared to this man. Suddenly aware that his clothes were rumpled, he stepped back, flushing with embarrassment.

  If Andon noticed, he gave no sign. He simply smiled and nodded. "So when are you going to teach me and my men and women to use these?" His hand swept over the table, blue eyes drinking in the sight of the weapons.

  "Oh. I haven't been told when." Haze, should he have set that up already? Had they been waiting days for him to get organised? No, he decided they hadn't, or this visit would have taken place sooner.

  "Tomorrow then," Andon said, nodding. That settled the matter; he gave no room for argument. "How loud are they?"

  Del blinked at the question. "Uh, I can show you now if you like?" He'd seen more than one person jump upon hearing the first shot. A man like Andon wouldn't appreciate displaying a reaction like that in front of others. Having any part in the humiliation of powerful people wasn't a good way to start a new job. Del didn't want to make an enemy of this man. Or anyone else here for that matter.

  "Show me how it works," Andon said. To his credit, he didn't even reach for a firearm until Del handed one to him. From the way he handled it, looking it over with keen eyes, he respected his weapons. That was a sure sign that he'd listen to Del and take instruction.

  Del picked up his favourite and held it out in front of his face.

  "You hold it here, and there." He nodded toward his hands. "A little further back. Yes, like that. Tuck your fingers into there and place one finger around the trigger. If it was loaded, you'd pull that toward yourself and it'd fire."

  "Loaded?"

  "Uh—yes. With black power and a shot. I don't put those in inside, in case someone gets hurt." He learned that lesson when he'd first invented them. Luckily no one had been injured, or killed, but the hole in the wall had had to be patched.

  "Can you load it? We'll go outside and test these out."

  "Of course." Del didn't like the suggestion that he hadn't tested them extensively already, but he held his tongue. He did as he was asked, showing Andon what to do as he went.

  "Is it always so time-consuming?" Andon asked, "you couldn't load it quickly if you were under attack."

  "I'm looking at ways to house several shots so they can be used in succession," Del replied quickly. So far it had proven tricker than he'd have hoped.

  "Good, good. Come on, I want to try this toy of yours."

  "It's not a toy," Del blurted.

  "Of course not," Andon patted his back and grinned, "I meant no offence."

  "None taken," Del lied. "Outside then."

  He followed Andon to an archery range, in which targets lined one side in a row. On the other side was a patch of dirt, compacted from an untold amount of booted feet over the years.

  "Will this do?" Andon asked.

  "Yes, it'll be fine," Del agreed. It was perfect. He wished he'd had something like this back in Tsaisa. Now he just had to try to not make a fool of himself. He picked a spot a good distance from the targets, and several arm-spans further back from the line the archers had worn into the ground,

  "That far back?" Andon asked with surprise.

  "I could go further," Del said, pleased to have the upper hand, if only for a moment. The younger man was impressed, he saw that on his face. More than that though, he looked hungry. Mastering something as powerful as a firearm would increase his status in the reasoners. The idea was slightly sickening. They were made for defence, not to impress people.

  "Let's see how it goes from where you are," Andon replied. The hunger was replaced with scepticism. This was something Del was more used to.

  He raised the firearm, aimed and squeezed the trigger. The shot flew true, hitting the target and passing right through it, leaving a gaping hole. From the corner of his eye, Del saw Andon flinch at the sound. By the time he started clapping, he'd suppressed any embarrassment at the response.

  "Reason, that was impressive," the man enthused. "Can you make them quieter?"

  "That's another thing I've been working on," Del replied, lowering the weapon.

  "All right, my turn." Andon stood back from where Del had stood and raised his firearm.

  "Hold it a little further from your face," Del suggested, "or it'll come back and hit you." He rubbed his nose and nodded as Andon did as he said. Reason forbid he'd damage his good looks, he thought sarcastically.

  Andon fired, startled at the recoil and the shot went wide, taking off the very edge of the target. For a moment Del thought he'd be furious, but then he broke into a laugh.

  "There's more to learn that I suspected," he said. "I'm impressed by what I see. Your little toy might just be very effective. I see why the general likes them so much."

  Del forced a smile. "They should be useful in defending against any number of things."

  "Defend, yes," Andon smirked, "they could be used for that too. How high can it shoot?"

  "High?" Del frowned.

  "Yes, have you tested them for that? Could you—say—hit a dragon flying overhead?"

  Del's mouth worked, but no sound came out for a moment. "Why would you want to?" He asked finally.

  "I don't," Andon replied easily, "I was merely using that as an approximate measurement." He looked so guileless Del wasn't sure what to make of him. He might not be a fan of dragons, but he didn't want to see them shot out of the sky.

  "Ah. I don't know, I've never needed to try. I suspect the shot might rise and simply fall back to earth, possibly hitting the shooter." He wasn't sure the man bought his thinly veined warning, but he shrugged and nodded.

  "Very well, then. I'll have an apprentice try it some day, perhaps." He handed the firearm to Del and patted his shoulder, fingers lingering longer than was comfortable. "I'll let you get back to work. Do you want me to send some help? You seem to have a lot left to do."

  "If you know someone appropriate," Del replied. He'd suspected he would be watched by whoever they allowed him to hire, but now he was certain. Evidently turning in his own son wasn't enough to ensure their trust in him. So be it. He would do his work and not give them any reason to think he'd do anything untoward.

  "I'll find someone. Several of them," Andon assured him. "It's not hard to find people who work hard and do as they're told." There was something more to his words, but Del wasn't sure what. He put it out of his mind and cradled the firearms, the acrid, burning smell of fired weapons tickling his nostrils.

  "Thank you, it'll be good to have some assistance. Then I can get on with the changes I want to make."

  Andon's hand slid from his shoulder and he smiled. "Make sure to take a break from time to time too. Otherwise I'll have to take you out into the city myself and show you the sights."

  "I'll take them," Del said quickly. He doubted he'd enjoy Andon's type of fun, whatever that might be. That he enjoyed the company of other men was evident, but Del suspected he enjoyed anyone he had power over, man or woman. While he had no problem with the former, he didn't want any part of the latter.

  "Very well then. Until tomorrow." Andon turned and walked away, without so much a glance back.

  "I can't wait," Del murmured, sighing to himself. He didn't relish the idea of facing the mess in the manufactory, but he fled back there anyway. Right now, it seemed like the safest place in Paryos.

  Chapter Thirty

  The men and women Andon brought with him the following day for training were all young, either apprentices or first-lev
el reasoners. They looked like little more than children to Del; all attentive to Andon, listening to every word and obeying without question. That kind of power must be heady, and the man revelled in it. He moved about between them relaxed and casual, but from where Del stood, off to the side, he saw the man take in every detail. Andon knew at a glance who would take to using firearms quickly and who wouldn't. It was his job to know such details.

  "Hold it further out Samiel," Andon barked, making the man in question flush and swallow audibly.

  "Sorry sir," Samiel stammered. He moved the firearm away from his face and looked over to Andon for approval, even though the man had seen them for the first time the day before.

  "Much better. Wouldn't you say Del?"

  "Um, yes, much. Raise your arm a little more." Samiel was more likely to shoot the ground or end up with shot through his foot at the rate he was going. "More than that. Good."

  Samiel squeezed the trigger and fired. The shot hit the target in almost the dead centre.

  "Nice job Samiel." The small young man beside him grinned and aimed his own weapon. Ever since they'd begun, Brish had been focused, except to encourage his friend. He'd listened attentively and done everything asked of him with precision and care. It wasn't just Andon's close supervision; he was eager to learn.

  "Thanks, Brish," Samiel replied.

  "You try, Brish," Andon ordered. "Remember to aim." He grinned as though sharing some sort of private joke.

  Brish either didn't hear or ignored him, instead looking down the barrel and firing. The shot missed the target by a handspan and ended up embedded in the ground.

  "Haze!" he cursed. He stomped back to the table which had been set up to hold black powder and shot. He set about reloading while the others practiced, some with more luck than others.

  Del walked over to the table to be sure he reloaded correctly. "It wasn't a bad first effort," he said, trying to be encouraging.

  "It was hopeless," Brish growled, "but I'll do better next time."