A Most Refined Dragon

by Paul Chernoch

  Melissa creeped ahead of K'fuur, only to drop back, again and again. Why must we fly so slowly? We can't be doing more than twenty miles per hour. I can do twenty-five without sweating, and have no problem doing thirty. The dust cloud below steadily increased its lead. No Bambi should outrun me! I'm the Rainbow Bride! Nevertheless, they kept their sluggish pace, and the dust cloud passed from sight, swallowed by the canyons of the eastern reach of the Aliosha Mountains. Lacking anything interesting to look at, she admired her wings. In the sun they once gleamed white, but under the influence of her new vegetable symbiote's solar absorption, they were infused with a subtle green tinge. Working hard to replenish her hydrogen reserve after filling the balloon, her wings made her thirsty. She spotted a stream and beckoned to K'fuur. She cut through a flock of honking menaces and had to spit out a whole bird when she landed. It scolded her before flapping away.

  When she'd coughed up the last feather, Melissa turned to K'fuur. "You usually have more to say."

  He bent over the stream to lap up water. When Melissa's stare made conversation unavoidable, he raised his head. "The hatching is near. My Fenora waits. Her shells are thin. She lays once every two migrata, and the last three died. This may be her last." He resumed drinking.

  While she and K'fuur gulped water, pungent fumes tickled her nose. She shuffled, snout to the ground, sniffing for its source. Beside the stream lay a puddle with a rainbow sheen. She picked up a leaf floating in the puddle, inhaled, then licked it. Her eyes opened wide.

  "What is it?" said K'fuur.

  "Gasoline." The ground at that spot consisted of shale, so she stomped upstream and found soft mud. When K'fuur caught up, she was staring at a herringbone pattern in the mud, gritting her teeth and exhaling puffs of flame. "Motorcycle tracks. It was not an animal galloping ahead of us; it was a man. And I mean man. He is not a Hand. He's not from here and never will be." I should've flown faster. Stupid noisy birds! A little closer and I would've heard the engine.

  "Motorcycle? Is that a machine from your world?"

  "Yes. Two-wheeled vehicle powered by a distillate of liosh. On the plains, it moves as fast as I can fly, though on this terrain I could've outrun it. I bet it's a green Kawasaki Super Sherpa, with a range of thirty-six kilolisstai. The rider stopped here to drink and refill his tank. He can reach the heart of Blaze and ride back to Four Rivers without refilling again."

  "You are able to tell all this from sniffing?"

  "No, I know the rider, and he bragged about his toy so much I can recite the specs. R.J. never goes anywhere without his bike. I should've guessed he would've managed to transport it here. He's dangerous and has an hour lead. I'll set the pace from now on. If you lose me, fly straight to warn Lord Anspark." Melissa gave K'fuur a description of the man and the revving sound for which to listen, then took off. The canyons and mountain passes had few choices of trail, so she pursued rapidly. Two hours later she reached a stone road with arched bridges, tunnels and elaborately carved pillars and entrances. There would be no more cycle tracks. The city of the Reds was a few hundred lisstai away. R.J. had beaten her there.

  She coasted, admiring the engineering. The feet of each arched bridge support resembled the hind legs of a Claw, while the arch was its curved wing and fore-claw, joined to the claw of the next pillar. Each head stared outward somberly, declaring its protection of all who walked its spans. Melissa wished these sentinels could keep their promise, and keep the city dwellers safe from whatever mischief R.J. had in store.

  * * *

  Red Home surprised Melissa. Despite the fact that Lissai could fly, ramps and roads and bridges connected every group of caves with the next. Wrinkled olissairn shuffled along such paths or reclined in bubbling hot springs. They do not abandon their elderly. Despite rocky terrain, flower boxes and vines covered most walls. No way I'll smell that motorcycle here.

  The most surprising thing was being made to wait outside the great hall where Anspark kept court, despite warning Elek-Mouton, the officer on duty, about a dangerous spy skulking about.

  "A Hand who approaches craftily after dark is a pest," said Elek-Mouton. "If in the light, a fool."

  Melissa watched the city. She had seen Lissai in the wilderness, in the sky, and in the cities of the Hands, but never in their homes. A small Red hopped about on the porch in front of a nearby cave, flapping her wings, which carried her up a few feet at a time, until her strength or balance gave out and she came crashing to the ground. Aw, how cute. She's learning to fly. Sadly that was not what was happening, which became obvious when her mother charged out and blasted the young Red's tail with a fireball. The olissair shook her head and bent over to inspect the damage: a steaming pile of poo in plain sight of the neighbors. She stood tall, inhaled, and sprayed the mess with fire, then fanned the site with her wings to disperse the odor. She bent over, hooked the now solid hunk of waste on a claw, and walked it over to one of her flower boxes, pulled a plant up by the stalk, and deposited a new batch of fertilizer under it before replanting the flower. Then she scrambled after her toddling terror once more. Who knew parenting could be so easy? Got a problem? Blast it with a fireball! She imagined herself blasting away at certain people in her life and smiled.

  Melissa faced the hall. Shafts of colored light from an array of holes in the ceiling illuminated the hlissak's empty chair. She closed her eyes and pretended she was hlissak, not because she fell into someone's body, or had super powers, or inherited it, but because her people loved her and enjoyed her wise leadership. She'd never harbored such ambition before. Her father's face flashed before her mind's eye. Dad wanted me to take over the company, but I wanted none of it. Is this what it feels like for him? She heard claw on stone and opened her eyes. The chair was no longer empty.

  Elek-Mouton announced her. "Lady Melissa K'Naribo comes, bearing warnings."

  Melissa strode forward, stopped when an attendant's nod indicated, and bowed. "Honorable Hlissak, may the name Anspark of Blaze be remembered until the stars burn out."

  Anspark rose from his seat, pointed his nose at the ceiling and belched fire. "Ha, rar, rar, rar!"

  Melissa didn't get the joke and frowned.

  "Though I've been informed you are not White Talon, still I never thought I would fly enough lisstai that I would see so ancient an olissair as you bow before me. Now I am convinced. What message or entreaty do you bear?"

  Melissa pondered her reply. Good news first. "Mirrorwing the Silver of Garden Isle has returned from Nehenoth. He informed me that Silverthorn is alive." The turning heads and blinking eyes told her that this was news to them.

  "And where is Lord Mirrorwing, that we may receive him?" said Anspark.

  "Seeking a way to bring the other Silvers across." For their safety, should I tell him how few remain alive? Better not. "I am dedicated to helping him succeed in his mission, as I swore to White Talon. That is why I have come."

  "Elek-Mouton reports that you came in search of a spy."

  "We suspect a man named Orjay entered the shrine at the Holding Pens of West Menagerie Heights and defaced the words of the venerable Azureana. These words describe how to repair and operate a doorway to Nehenoth, and disable the machines that create hlisskans and issue the census summons. We need these words to effect our rescue of the Silvers, and restore control over the entrance to this world to the Lissai."

  "An uncontrolled entrance enabled you to travel here and assume your current form. How can I be sure that once you master the mechanisms, you will not use the gateway to serve your own purposes?"

  This Claw is blunt, so I'd better be blunter. "Lord Anspark, I had such a purpose, and planned to use this gateway to achieve it. The outcome of my trial overturned my hopes. Now I work to help my friends achieve their dreams. Though White Claw lives in exile, I will rescue her Silverthorn. The Golden Dragon, Orokolga, seeks her mate Kilgain, so I will reunite them. And Hands and Claws are equally afflicted by the periodic migrations that attend the census, so I will end them."
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  "Very noble, very laudable aims," said Anspark. "You come from 'Earth'. Have I said it right?"

  "Yes," said Melissa.

  "We Claws have lived, for the most part, peacefully with the Hands of Kibota for many hundreds of migrata. But of late, an unaccountably large number of new arrivals have appeared, hailing from your world. Tell me, are they as committed to the safety and harmony of our world as you claim to be? Possessing clever devices and medicines, when they use these things to win influence among our Hands, for what purpose will they exert that influence?"

  He already knows the answer. When I come to warn him of danger, why is it my motives are questioned? "You don't trust them? Neither do I. All I ask is that I be judged by my actions. I don't know what they plan, but I came to warn you. I know White Talon didn't trust you, but if this world doesn't unite to face this threat… The nation of my birth has the power to destroy our world if attacked. Its weapons are horrifying and its citizens number three hundred million. Shutting the door completely after the Silvers are rescued, at least until the day you are prepared to face Earth on an equal footing, is the wisest course."

  Anspark turned his head and scanned her at length. "I hear you can heal. I know our history. Azureana was a healer, but her compassion overruled her prudence, and ruined our world. I agree the doors must be shut immediately. That is why I deeply lament that we shall never see Hlissosak Silverthorn and his companions again."

  Melissa's mane stood up and her tail straightened out and went rigid. Her claws extended and the hydrogen in her chest bubbled. You want no challengers for hlissosak. You would abandon the innocent to death and us to despair to further your ambition. Maybe you were the one to trap them there! She breathed slowly and deeply, laboring not to ignite all the oxygen in the room. "If we shut off the hlisskanijunger, I believe all Claws will be rejuvenated; able again to read the ancient words and advance our civilization. If we slam the door shut, we're the ones trapped. Earth's scientists are persistent; they will find another way through. Our best hope is to advance our own science. We need to stop that machine. Please listen!"

  Anspark left his chair, crossed to the left side of the hall and walked along the rear wall, bowing before each figure carved in relief. Depicted were Reds standing before their creations: bridges or canal locks, tunnels or towers, walls or arches. As he stopped at each, a jet of flame shot out of the mouth of that statue, and Anspark responded with a blast of his own. He remained longest in front of a lissairn standing beside a machine, while birds, lizards and mammals streamed out of a hole. Then Anspark returned to his throne. "The achievements of Vermillion Weld were the greatest feats of engineering my people ever undertook." He thrust out his claw, then pointed it up. "We will not dishonor him by undoing his legacy." He pounded his paw on his armrest. "If it were destroyed, would a measure of our vitality return? If a Claw lays down his burden, he will feel relief, but he will not complete his work. Instead of lessening the load, he should increase his strength. Under my leadership, the Reds grow stronger, and we will redouble our strength until all the terrors of this world are subdued." He turned his head and bellowed to an attendant, "Bring the prisoner!"

  A trembling, thirty-something man in a black leather jacket stumbled in, flanked by two Claws. They stopped before Anspark's chair, to Melissa's right.

  "Is this the Hand?" said Anspark.

  Melissa nodded.

  Anspark faced R.J. "How long have you been on Kibota?"

  "Th-th-three y-years, sir." R.J.'s breath reeked of liquid courage.

  "You can't be well-enough acquainted with our ways to think you could enter Red Home unnoticed, so forget wisdom. What drives you? Is it pride, madness, stupidity, or desperation?"

  "Desperation. I want to go home. They promised I could get back; it's an adventure and all. I didn't think…" His voice faded to unintelligibility.

  "No, you didn't. We shut the Red Home gate to Nehenoth long ago. Can't have a flood of monsters invading our hatchery, can we?"

  "I thought I could repair it. I'm good with things like that." R.J. stared at his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  "A Hand with a mind for mechanisms? You have come to the right klatch! You shall make an excellent prisoner, for we have much requiring repair."

  "P-prisoner?" His face stopped briefly at misery before advancing to relief.

  Outside, an agonizing shriek pierced the silence, followed by an olissair's screams. "Noooooo! My baby! You hatched too soon! Whyyyyyy?"

  Elek-Mouton ran to the cave mouth and listened. "K'fuur's Fenora. At the hatchery."

  Anspark's demeanor transformed from fighting king to tender father of all he ruled. "You!" Anspark pointed at Melissa. "If you can truly heal, follow me."

  Anspark ran outside, spread his wings and leapt from the cliff. Melissa followed. They dove and banked left around the side of the peak and across to the next highest peak. With a swoop and the grating of claw on stone, they landed. A tunnel opened into a low-ceilinged cavern with scant headroom for a Claw to walk. A sandy depression in the middle of the room had dimples where olli had recently been incubated. Tracks in the sand showed how they had been pushed to a corner of the room, where a pair of olissairn were dousing them with water from a hose. Projecting from the wall were knobs and levers. The air felt uncomfortably hot.

  Anspark scrambled to the controls and adjusted them, before turning his attention to the broken shell and motionless infant lying in the sand, still damp with eggy fluids. "Hurry!" He swatted his claw at Melissa to push her along.

  At the gap, I could heal, not raise the dead. Must everyone expect the impossible from me? Melissa inhaled, concentrated on the strange new muscles she used to control her combustion, and whispered, "Hidden name, please make her live." Then she surrendered to the flame. Streams of blue fire poured from her mouth and bathed the premature newborn. The scale color improved, the wounds closed, and immature tissues accelerated their growth. But there was no breath in her, and Melissa's flame was spent. No! I won't give up. She scurried to the cave mouth and spread her wings to the sun. Her chest bubbled as warmth poured into her. Once recharged, she raced back to the cave. "Live!" she cried, and breathed more flame. This time the flames ricocheted off the baby Lissai and swirled into a vortex. The whirlwind of fire elongated. One end attached to the baby's head, while the other crawled along the roof, out the entrance, and into the sky.

  Flash! A bright, white light entered from outside, coursed along the blue ribbon, and raced toward the child. It struck her head, formed a halo, and was absorbed into her skull.

  Thump. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Cough. Retch. "Waaaaaah!"

  The irritating sound of a baby crying was the most beautiful song Melissa had ever heard.

  * * *

  The great hall was quiet. R.J.'s face was pale and he stood straight. Melissa stood on the porch in the last of the sun, recharging. When the investigators returned she reentered the hall. Elek-Mouton swept his head from left to right and tapped his claw rhythmically. When his count ended at fourteen, he walked over to a Claw and whispered. That Claw left the hall. “Lord Anspark, we have a clutch-wing.”

  Anspark's tail twitched and his chest rose and fell. He delivered his words with deliberate slowness. "We found this Hand near the edge of our city. Now we know how deeply he penetrated. He attempted to activate our ancient gateway and failed. He was unaware that we long ago redirected the power from the gate to our hatchery, to incubate our precious olli. His meddling increased its temperature dangerously, inducing Fenora's oll to hatch prematurely. Lofty K'fuur is among my most trusted friends, and his child is as mine. Bring me the vessel." A stoppered glass jar was brought to him. He took it in his paws and removed the stopper. "Orjay of Earth, today Melissa K'Naribo has spared your life. Had this ollhatch died, so would you. But as innocent blood was spilt, so too will the blood of the guilty be spilt in atonement. Come receive your sentence." He held out the flask.

  R.J. froze. Melissa nudged him forwa
rd, but he fainted. She picked him up and carried him.

  Anspark held the flask out as another Claw grabbed R.J.'s forearm and slit his wrist. Blood poured from his arm into the glass. When the flask was full, they bandaged the arm. Anspark addressed Melissa. "You may treat him now."

  She breathed, and his arm was restored.

  "I have adjusted his sentence. He is not welcome in our city even as a slave. If he returns, he will die. He is yours, and must leave now."

  Her audience was over. Melissa took the unconscious man to the cave mouth and prepared to fly him to the edge of the city, where he'd hidden his motorcycle. In the twilight, a shadow flitted across the mountainside, circled and landed on the cliff beside her.

  "From today, we are friends." K'fuur walked to the edge. "We have named our daughter Melidessa, because you caught her spirit and brought it back to us." He spread his wings, jumped, and his figure dwindled to nothing.

  Dessa means to fish. I have caught a few friends with my line. Where can I get me a dragnet?

  Chapter 27: Unrest

  April 17th. Before dawn. The road from Borgash to Four Rivers.

  R.J. was weak from loss of blood. Reviving him, locating his bike and getting him to ride it without falling off taxed Melissa. His headlight was adequate to warn of roots, rocks and logs along the uneven road, but open wilderness would be fatal. They must get to Four Rivers. Absent food and rest, he needed adrenaline. As a dragon, she could supply that adrenaline. Every time he wobbled, she huffed a fireball his way. In the dark, her hydrogen exhausted, she fell back on roaring and splashing him with cold water. When her ability to remain aloft flagged, she found a farmhouse and got leave to stay in a barn. At three a.m., who’ll argue with a Lissai?