by Devin Hanson
Andrew kicked a pack dropped by a privateer. "Got out in a hurry once the dragon showed up."
Jules rested against a tree, her hands on her knees as she gulped air. "Can you blame them?" she gasped. "I mean, the size of it! Was that the brooder?"
Andrew shook his head. "No. Just a regular dragon."
"Tiny gods," Jules sighed. "I've never been more scared in my life."
Andrew chuckled, the tension pooling out of him. "I thought I was going to have a heart attack when I was fighting with that one man. I was certain you'd be dead or captured by the others."
Jules shrugged. "They're just men. I'm used to fighting men." Her eyes shadowed as she thought back. "It's a good thing we got out of the gulch. How did you know that would happen? With the fire, I mean."
Andrew shook his head. "Seen it before." He didn't elaborate, and Jules didn't push him. "What was that ice? Was that alchemy?"
"A saying, yes. I have a flux," she fished a necklace out from around her neck and showed him a small scale pendant. You have to have direct skin contact to a flux to allow it to release the vitae. The sayings I used drew from the flux." She tucked the pendant back under her shirt. Andrew couldn't help but think about it touching her skin there.
"Ah. But, ice? I've never seen a dragon do anything with ice."
"In this part of the world, the dragons are all fire." She smiled. "The world's a big place, Andrew. You've only seen one corner of it."
"There are ice dragons, huh?" Andrew took a deep breath and coughed. "What else is there?"
"Oh, quite a few varieties. Lightning lizards, they're wingless and small, keep mostly to the deep desert. They don't bother humans much. Stone wyrms that live in deep caves and can tunnel faster than you can run. They're sightless, but can sense the vibration of a footstep for hundreds of yards. Ice serpents are great long snake-like beasts with dozens of legs that live in the deep jungles." Jules waved her hands. "And several more."
Andrew was silent for a while, thinking of what he had told Professor Milkin all those years ago. To make it safe for humans. The more he learned, it seemed, the harder that goal seemed. It worked for Andronath to have the alchemical cannon to protect the city, but how would such a system fare against a rock wyrm? Or a swarm of lightning lizards?
"You have scales from all those dragons?" he finally asked.
Jules laughed. "Oh no. All my scales are from our friendly local fire dragons. The Academy has collections from all over the world that the students can study, though it's hard to book time with them. I learned ice runes from a friend of mine whose homeland is deep in a jungle where they have ice serpents. We traded, I learned ice, he learned fire."
"Well," Jules said after a few minutes had passed and they had caught their breath. "We seem to make a good team." She held out her hand. "I'm glad you're here, Andrew."
Andrew shook her offered hand. "Maybe when we need a break from teaching me alchemy, you can show me how to fight. I think I'm terrible at it. And I think I lost your knife."
Jules laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "You did alright for a first fight. Come on, let's find our packs and get out of this miserable valley."
The next morning found Andrew trudging up a steep slope. Wind gusted, sending his cloak snapping at his heels. Behind him, Jules was complaining. Andrew did his best to tune her out, but her voice carried.
"I'm not made for climbing cliffs," she declared. "You should have told me it was going to be this steep, I would have worn different shoes."
"Mountain, Jules. Mountain. It's steep, yes? Has cliffs? Rocks? I'm sure you've seen one." In one way, Milkin was right. She was getting used to him. And he was getting used to her. While she was still the prettiest girl he'd seen in years, she had an abrasive attitude that was wearing and he couldn't help but return some of her sarcasm.
"I haven't seen this mountain before," she continued. "If I had known we would be climbing this mountain, I would have gone around it."
"You said we need to get as high as possible. This mountain happens to fit that description. Big mountains have steep sides around here."
Jules was silent for long enough that Andrew paused to look back and saw Jules staring out over the valley.
"What is it?"
"I see a dragon!"
Andrew froze. Goosebumps rushed up and down his back. Finally he made himself unstick and settle comfortably in a sitting position with his hood deeply shadowing his face. He carefully arranged the folds of his cloak to make sure he was completely covered, and only then did he look out into the valley below.
The view was beautiful. Miles of open space stretched between them and the next mountain over, with the valley between riddled with crags and spotted with trees. The cleft had a stream running through it, with accompanying foliage giving a sharp counterpoint to the dusky grey of the rock.
It took him a while to find the dragon. It was gliding through a series of crags to the north, gently riding the thermals like it was no larger than a hawk. The shadow it cast was enormous, though, and belied its seeming grace. The dragon was huge.
"Jules," Andrew hissed, "get down!"
"Look at it!" she clapped her hands, "It's so far away, it can't possibly see us. They're such beautiful creatures!"
"Jules! Get down!" he shouted, but it was too late. The dragon's head turned toward them and with a sudden downbeat of its wings launched into a steep climb.
Chapter 13
Waiting Game
Throwing caution to the wind, Andrew jumped down the slope toward Jules, skidding in the scree and sending small rocks skipping through the air toward her. He crashed into her from behind and they tumbled to the ground, Jules squealing her outrage.
Desperately, Andrew dug his heels into the ground and slammed to a stop on a large boulder, sending a shock spiking up through his legs. Quickly, he flipped over on top of Jules and crouched over her, flicking his cloak so it covered them both then adjusting his knees so he had the edges pinned down.
Only then did he realize he was nose-to-nose with Jules, her body pressed against his from collarbone to thigh. He blushed furiously, but didn't move. Jules opened her mouth then shut it again when, with a thwack of heavy leather wings, a blast of burnt cinnamon rushed down over them.
"Do. Not. Move." Andrew mouthed at Jules, and she nodded her head fractionally.
Andrew fought the urge to turn his head to see the dragon, instead concentrated on his heartbeat and ragged breathing, trying hard to slow them both down. He felt Jules' heart throbbing under him, the warmth of her body pressed hard against his, the swell of her breasts... No, he had to think about other things, like whether they would live through the next five minutes. Time enough for Jules' breasts afterwards.
The dragon circled them, the heavy beats of its wings occasionally sending little slides of rocks and sand over them. Andrew blessed every stone he felt hitting his back, knowing it was one more piece of camouflage keeping them hidden.
Minutes went by with the dragon circling, sending deep shadows sprinting over Jules' face inches from his own. Andrew stared into her eyes, counting the flecks of gold in her irises, trying not to breathe too hard lest the movement betray their position. Jules stared right back, her eyes wide with fear. He tried smiling at her to convey some sense of reassurance, but his face didn't seem to want to move.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, the dragon roared and Andrew heard the whistle of its wings as it dived away down the mountain. Andrew counted to a long, agonizing one hundred. Still he didn't hear the beat of wings. He started over again from one.
"I think," Jules said, her voice husky, "that you can get off of me now."
Andrew flushed. "Right. Sorry." It took a few seconds before he could convince his arms to move and he lifted off her a few inches, enough that he could turn his head and look out over the valley. For another count of one hundred he searched the valley from peak to dell, outcrop to crag before finally rolling off her all the way.
Andrew bowed his head, the sudden lack of adrenaline making his body shudder with exhaustion.
"Thank you," Jules whispered. "I'm an idiot. If you hadn't done that..."
"Next time," Andrew said then trailed off. There was nothing he could say that would hammer the lesson home any harder. He turned around and found Jules huddled in her cloak, slow tears making runnels through the dust on her cheeks. Shit. He shifted over until he could put his arms around her and she buried her face in his shoulder, silent sobs making her back jerk under his hands.
After a minute she quieted down then pulled away. Andrew let her go and turned his face away to watch the valley as she scrubbed the tear tracks from her cheeks.
"I owe you, Andrew," she announced when she had finished putting herself back together again.
Andrew shrugged.
"No, really, I do." She laid a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. "You're not so bad, for a gunny."
Andrew felt his face flush again, and unexpected warmth to shoot down into his gut. "Uh, you're welcome." His thoughts flashed back to how her body had felt pressed against him and he chastised himself. She was a noble's daughter, estranged or no. He was a gunny, or a merchant's son, which might as well be the same thing when it came to courting a noble. He had zero chance with her and hoping would just make things awkward.
"We should get something to eat," he suggested, as a way to fill the silence. Jules agreed, and Andrew led them up the slope to a spur of rock that would give them visual cover from the valley if the dragon happened to come back.
Andrew chewed his portion of sausage slowly, savoring the salty meat, alternating with bites between his hardtack and a firm white cheese still in its rind. Jules might consider the fare to be minimalist, but to him it was unexpected luxury.
"Was that the brooder?" Jules asked suddenly.
Andrew was surprised by the question. Once he had seen the dragon, his only thought was to hide but her question brought back why they were up in the mountains in the first place. With a little effort, he brought back the image of the dragon that had landed next and compared it to the one that had circled them.
"No, I don't think so. This one was a dark brown, almost a black, I think, and large. The one that dropped my scale was almost copper-colored, the smallest dragon I've ever seen."
"Oh well," Jules sighed. "It would have been nice to find it so quickly."
"Though this is-- uh, I guess it's a female-- her hunting grounds."
"Yes, brooders are female," Jules laughed.
Andrew smiled wryly. "I know so little about them. Funny, that we spend our whole lives living with them sitting in the back of our minds but never bother to learn the first thing about them."
"Not all of us," Jules corrected him. "The Guild knows nearly everything there is to know about dragons."
Andrew mulled that over with another mouthful of food then asked, "I've been wondering. What's so special about my scale? Why is a brooding scale different?"
"I was wondering when you'd ask." Jules settled herself into a more comfortable position against the rock and went into a lecture mode remarkably similar to Professor Milkin's. "A brooding dragon is pregnant. For around six months, she hunts almost daily rather than the usual eight- or nine-day periods. At the end of her brooding period, she lays two to eight eggs. She guards the eggs for a month, breathing fire on them every few minutes. At the end of the month, the eggs hatch into dragonets.
"During the brooding period, the dragon builds up an incredible amount of vitae, life force. This turns her scales copper-colored; they literally glow with heat. Your scale is a vessel of vitae. As a runing reference goes, it's the same as any other scale from the dragon during any period of its life. As an alchemic flux, however, it is without equal. It's a nearly bottomless supply of vitae.
"I bought a flask of dragongas back in Andronath for ten gold royals. That scale holds, if one were to be so wasteful as to distill it into dragongas, three to four hundred times as much. Properly used, though, it has the flux strength of many times even that amount."
Andrew rubbed a hand over his face, unused portions of his mind coming into play to add in his head. "So it's worth... a hundred thousand royals?"
Jules laughed. "It's priceless, really, but you're not wrong. If someone were to pay hard coin for it, it'd be around that much."
Andrew shook his head. How could any one thing be worth so much? "That's... that's..." he waved his hands in the air, trying to gesture something appropriately large.
"A king's ransom. Or two kings, if they were miserly."
"And you let me walk around Andronath with it?"
"Milkin and I decided it was safest in your possession. Nobody would think of robbing a gunny. What's he got? Some dried feces stuck to the seams of his sack. If I were to carry it, someone might suspect. I couldn't help but act differently if I knew I was holding that much wealth. It would be noticed. Milkin couldn't keep it, you need it to learn runes."
"So you refrained from telling me I had enough gold in my pocket to buy a castle so I would act normally?"
"So you would take me to this mountain. And, as it turns out, keep me alive. That's a single brooding scale. Imagine if we found the brood den? We could find ten, twenty, more of them! If we gave up now, or never left Andronath, the dragon would eat the fallen scales to regain the vitae and all that would be lost."
"Forgive me, but I'm surprised you didn't just knife me the first night and run off with it."
Jules snorted. "I'm not Trent. Don't doubt it; if that scum knew you had a brooding scale, you wouldn't live the night, even this far from Andronath. But I was raised in the old ways. You know, honor, respect, all that rot. His morals are not so trained." She spat. "New blood."
"I could register the scale, though--"
"You'd be dead inside the hour, with the records house in flames. Let me explain this concept carefully, as it took me too long to figure it out myself." She spoke slowly in measured words. "Trent is the worst person you can possibly know."
Andrew finished eating in silence. The scale in his pocket suddenly seemed to weigh a pound for every possible crown he could sell it for. Briefly, he wondered what would have happened if he had shown the wagon master the scale. How many people would have died before someone powerful enough finally got their hands on it? Ten? Thirty? More? Would he have survived? The idea made him chuckle darkly to himself. Not likely.
"Ready to finish the climb?"
Jules' question pulled Andrew out of his funk and he nodded. "We move slowly, though. Leapfrog the trail. One person always watching the valley. We won't be so lucky a second time, and that dragon might come back."
Jules nodded agreement, her eyes wide with remembered fear.
"I'll watch first. Go up maybe twenty yards then fold yourself into your cloak and wait for me to pass you by a similar amount."
A few minutes later, Jules called "Ready!" and he turned to hike up the trail, sharing a tight smile with Jules as he passed her then worked his way up to the next flatish spot. "Okay!" he called down.
They climbed the mountain the rest of the way in that fashion until they reached a spot just shy of the peak, winded and muscles aching. A dull throb had started behind his eyes, a symptom he vaguely identified with climbing too high too fast. It had a name on the airship he had served on, but the lingo eluded him for the moment. The feeling would pass eventually if they rested enough before climbing again... not that they had any higher to climb.
"Now that we're at the top," Jules said, "I need to take some steps to make sure the Storm Shadow can't track us. And, while I do that, you keep watch for your dragon." She appeared to have no trace of soroche, and his pleasure at finally remembering the word was buried under a grating annoyance at how cheerful she sounded.
"I need a few minutes to rest," he explained.
"Sissy. And here I thought you were this tough gunny."
He waved her off. Now that he had stopped moving, his body was
letting him know in exquisite detail how unhappy it was with him. Between the bruising on his back from the rock slides, the soreness in his knees and ankles, the sick feeling in his gut and the headache, he wanted nothing more than to just lie there and die quickly.
"You should drink some water," Jules suggested. "I heard that helps."
The thought of water turned his stomach, but he forced a few mouthfuls down before giving up. "I'll be fine in a bit. I just need to rest." And breathe.
Jules walked to the southern edge, a nearly vertical cliff face dropping some three hundred feet before evening out into a steep scree slope, and sat down with her cloak wrapped about her in gunny-approved fashion. Her cloak concealed whatever it was that she was doing, but Andrew heard the rhythmic scrape of a etching stylus cutting runes into metal.
A half hour passed before Andrew felt like moving again, and he joined her on the edge. Andronath was visible below, it's towers half-hidden in a haze of coal smoke. The distance was too great to make out individual people.
Jules smiled at him when he sat down and drew a spyglass from her belt pouch. "Have a look."
Andrew accepted the spyglass and snapped it open. It was a nice model, with fine construction and well-cared for. He held it to his eye, adjusting it automatically until Andronath leapt into view. He could barely see the pennants waving on the towers, half the size of an ant even with the magnification.
"Used one of those before, have you?"
Andrew handed the spyglass back to her, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah."
"Well. Not only does the gunny recognize the sound of an airship engine better than I do, but he's also fully familiar with the use of a spyglass. I think it's time for a story, Andrew."
"Maybe I'll tell you some day," Andrew shrugged. "Right now, I want to set up our camp a little more securely. It's going to be cold up here at night. And we need to think about how we're going to refill our waterskins. It's a long hike down to that stream."
