by D K Drake
“Foolishness.” Javan nodded as if agreeing with Astor. “I don’t want to be a fool. I do want to learn about dragons, though. How about we get this portal fired up and go meet this Mertzer you mentioned.”
“Yes,” Astor said. He looked up at the sun as if he was one of those wise old school guys who could tell time by the position of the sun in the sky. Then again, Astor was a pretty old guy; he probably did know exactly what time it was. “His scales are starting to change, and I want you to observe his feeding time.”
Astor untied the okties he had strapped to a tree via their antennae and handed Javan the antennae to the one with the blue and yellow streaks. His name was, appropriately enough, Blue. “Get on and hover over the portal. Hold on tight. Okties don’t like traveling by portal. He’s likely to throw you off once we reach the other side if you’re not careful.”
“Don’t worry. I can handle myself on one of these things.”
Javan mounted the okty and rested his legs comfortably in the crook between the okty’s two sets of wings.
“All set?” Astor asked.
“Think so.” Javan pulled up on the antennae, and the okty drifted into the air. “That’s it, Blue,” Javan whispered. “You take care of me, and I’ll take care of you. I’ll even give you a better name once I get to know you a little bit.”
They turned slow circles in the air while Astor inserted a dragon scale into the spot that represented their current location. He then tied his okty’s antennae around his waist and shuffled across the portal.
“Aren’t you going to get on your okty?”
“I will once we reach the other side. Putting a scale in the slot while riding an okty is tricky business for an old man. Now come down a little closer; you’re too high.”
Javan nudged his okty down. Once they were hovering just a few feet over the portal, Astor put the second scale in the destination slot.
A burst of bright pinkish blue light blinded Javan and spooked Blue. Javan leaned his body against Blue and felt his stomach drop as Blue skyrocketed upward, his little okty heart beating a million miles a minute against Javan’s chest.
“Whoa, Blue! Whoa!” Javan pulled on his antennae, but that only freaked Blue out and sent him in the other direction, straight into a downward spiral. Javan held on for dear life as he blinked incessantly to regain his sight.
The world became blurry again, but part of the blurriness was due to the deathspin he was in. Javan wasn’t sure if he could trust his eyes anyway. The only thing he could see with any clarity was a wall of purple that Blue seemed determined to crash into.
He could feel the panic overtaking the okty’s mind. Javan had to gain control. Fast.
Javan closed his eyes and made himself relax. He rested his limp body against Blue’s tense one. Eased his hold on the antennae. Whispered to his ride. “Pull up, boy, pull up.” Then he gave a tiny tug on the antennae.
Blue responded.
Javan opened his eyes just as Blue skirted the surface of the purple ocean and resumed the calm, easy demeanor he demonstrated when Javan first mounted him.
“Guess we’re on the eastern shore.” Javan and Blue floated above the ocean while Javan drank in the beauty of the purple water lapping onto the bronze sand. Beyond the sand, he could see cliffs and waterfalls and rolling hills covered with a canopy of colorful trees. “This place is paradise. I wonder why nobody lives here.”
“Humans are not allowed to live in Dragon Stalker territories,” Astor said, flying up from behind Javan. “Now come. Mertzer is on the hunt. We’ll track him from the air.”
Astor sped away.
“For a slow-walking man, he sure is fast on that okty.” Javan urged Blue to keep up while working on his plan to collect Mertzer. He would let the dragon eat, then leap from Blue to Mertzer when the dragon was full, tired from hunting and least expecting him.
It was a simple, foolproof plan. Why was everyone trying to make this collecting thing harder than it needed to be?
Chapter 23
Mertzer
The sun was fading from the sky as Javan and Astor flew further and further inland just above the treeline. They had slowed their pace, and the calm, steady speed of the okty flight is what allowed Javan to tune in to the sounds of the woods below.
Actually, it was the lack of sound that Javan noticed most. Near the coast and with the sun still prominent in the sky, birds chirped, insects sung and the four-legged creatures roamed without masking their tracks.
But all those noises had slowly died away the lower the sun dipped in the sky and the farther from the coast they flew. Now Javan could hear nothing, not even the rustling of leaves.
“There he is,” Astor whispered. He halted his okty in mid-air and pointed to the ground below.
Javan brought his okty to a hovering stop above a thinning patch of trees. To the left of the trees, a rocky hill led to a valley plush with bushes, tall grass and a smattering of flowers. More bushes filled the green landscape on the other side of the valley where several wide, six-legged sheep grazed lazily under a cluster of trees.
“I see some weird-looking sheep,” Javan said, “but I don’t see a dragon.”
“Those are gorzelles,” Astor said. “One or two of them will be Mertzer’s dinner. He’ll probably also eat the snake curled on the edge of the hill and all seven of the raxens hiding in the valley.”
“Raxens?” Javan scanned the valley and noticed a group of what appeared to be seven oversized rats huddled together near a bush. “Oh, I see them.” He also spotted the coiled brown snake that looked huge even from the air. “But I still don’t see Mertzer.”
“Look below you. In the trees. He’s preparing to make his move.”
Javan flew in a slow circle around Astor while staring at the ground, trying to see what the old man saw. Finally, a streak of blue caught his eye.
The blue streak turned out to be the dragon’s tail. As the dragon inched out from under the trees, Javan saw that the streak extended across Mertzer’s back, over his head, between his green ears, down his short snout and ended at his two black nostrils. Horizontal streaks of green and pink scales colored the sides of his sleek, twelve-foot long body. Patches of purple and blue scales dotted his otherwise white legs.
“Aw, he’s a pretty dragon,” Javan said.
“He’s deadly,” Astor snapped back. “He moves with incredible speed; you don’t know he’s coming until he’s already gone. By then it’s too late: he breathes poison on his prey as he passes. The poison sinks into the skin, rushes through the bloodstream and strangles the heart. Death takes moments. Once his prey is dead, he comes back and takes his time eating his kills.”
Javan gulped. This dragon wasn’t as friendly and gentle as he looked. “No more gawking at the pretty dragon. Got it.”
“When he’s not in hunting mode, he can be a sensitive, caring creature.” Astor lost some of the sternness in his voice. “The Dusk Stalker is the one with the strongest emotional connection with his Collector. All the Stalkers are loyal to their Collectors, but the loyalty of the Dusk Stalker is unmatched by the rest.”
“I could use a loyal companion.”
“You must also know that he has an irrational fear of water. He’ll only drink from streams, never lakes, and he won’t go near the ocean.”
“Why is that?”
“I can’t explain it. That’s why I said it was an irrational fear.” Astor put his finger to his lips to silence Javan. “Watch. He’s ready to attack.”
Javan looked down in time to see a bluish green blur dart to the snake, down the hill to the raxens, up the hill to the gorzelles and back across the valley to his starting point. It couldn’t have taken him more than a minute to cover the tricky terrain and what had to be a total distance of more than a mile.
“His attack is over,” Astor said. “Now he’ll wait for his prey to die.”
All seven of the raxens were laying in a motionless heap in the valley. One of the gorzelles h
ad dropped to the ground while the other two ran away. As for the snake, it was still coiled. Javan knew, however, that it had been poisoned. Mertzer was confidently walking towards it, ready to make it the first part of his meal.
Javan was starting to feel a little queasy. He knew that animals eating animals was part of the natural order of things, but he preferred not to watch one animal devour another. “Do we really have to watch the dragon eat?” Javan asked.
“I suppose not.” Astor yawned. “This old body of mine is exhausted. I do want to get back through the portal and into my own bed.”
“I have a better idea.” Javan couldn’t go back, not without Mertzer. “Why don’t we find a place to land and rest for a bit? I’m supposed to learn how to survive in the Stalker territories at night anyway, right?”
“I could use some sleep.” Astor yawned again. “I know of a good place to rest that’s not far from here. Follow me.”
“Yes, sir.” Javan would follow the old man, make sure he was settled and sleeping, then go collect himself a dragon.
Chapter 24
Tree Tremors
“Y
ou sure this is a good place to rest?” Javan asked. They had landed in a meadow near a stream and had tied the okties to some trees near the water. Darkness had settled in, and with it came a blanket of heavy fog. The not-too-distant sounds of howling wolves did nothing to settle Javan’s uneasiness at losing nearly all visibility.
Somehow, though, Astor could see well enough to lead them into a patch of crooked trees. The trees grew at odd angles out of a ground so soft that Javan was sure he was going to sink right through it any second.
“We’re in the safety of the slanted acres,” Astor said. “We have plenty to eat: the leaves are delicious and nutritious. We can also rest without fear of attack. Animals dare not enter any section like this throughout the Dusk Stalker territory.”
“Animals are scared to walk where we are?” That didn’t sound like good news to Javan. He moved a little closer to Astor until he was practically breathing down the old man’s neck. “That makes me feel safe.”
“As it should.” Astor stopped under a tree shaped like an S. Now that Javan’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, he studied the strange tree Astor was under. Most of the trunk was bare. The top curved section, however, had hundreds of thin, spindly branches on it. Those branches grew tiny, circular leaves. It was those tiny circles that covered the ground all around them.
Javan gulped and tried to keep his voice from cracking as he asked, “Out of curiosity, why does this place scare animals away?”
“Tree tremors.”
“Should tree tremors scare us?”
“The threat is real. They can be deadly. So we’ll stop here.” Astor knelt down and gathered a pile of leaves into a makeshift bed. “We’re far enough inside the slanted acres to keep us safe from animal attacks but close enough to the edge that we can get out if a tremor strikes.”
“What exactly is a tree tremor? Is there any kind of warning before one strikes?”
“You’ll know if it’s happening when it happens.” Astor yawned and curled up on his bed of leaves. “There are no warnings. But one is more likely to occur if you keep babbling and pacing. The slanted acres demand quiet stillness. Now goodnight, young Javan.”
The old man was snoring before Javan could respond in kind. That meant now was his chance. He could tiptoe back out of the acres, retrieve his okty and fly around until he found Mertzer. Since Mertzer’s scales should have reverted back to white by now, the dragon shouldn’t be too hard to spot despite the darkness.
Javan suppressed a yawn of his own. Maybe getting a little rest first wouldn’t hurt. Astor looked like he was going to be asleep for a while anyway. And the ground was so soft.
Careful not to disturb the quiet of the acres and cause a tremor, Javan eased to his knees and practically sunk into the ground. He assumed the layer of leaves gave the ground its cushiony effect. He was wrong. When he started scooping up leaves to make himself a pillow, he uncovered not grass or dirt but plush white cotton. The more leaves he moved, the more cotton he found.
“Cool!” He laid on his back and stretched out. This place was more comfortable than any bed he had ever slept on. Within minutes, he was as sound asleep as the old man beside him.
◊◊◊
“Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!”
The series of fitful sneezes forced Javan out of his deep slumber. Particles of the wispy cotton that covered the ground were tickling the inside of Javan’s nose. He brusquely brushed them away, turned over and tried to get back to sleep without opening his eyes.
But the ground had lost its softness. Instead of the soft, cushiony cotton, all he could feel was annoying sticks poking and prodding his body from his toes to his shoulders. “Stupid sticks.” With his eyes half closed, he sat up and patted the ground in an attempt to find and remove the offending sticks.
Apparently the sticks did not appreciate being called stupid because one of them reached up and smacked Javan across the face. “Ouch!” Before Javan had a chance to retaliate, another smacked him in the back. “Whoa! What is going on here?”
Fully awake, he sprang to his feet and let his eyes readjust to the darkness. The leaves on the ground seemed to be jumping all around him. As he bent down to investigate, he saw why: the roots of the trees were jerking themselves up from the ground at sporadic intervals and causing the leaves to jump. It was those roots that had been digging into his back. “Astor! Astor, wake up!”
There was no wind, but the strangely shaped trees started swaying. Tremoring. “Oh, we gotta get out of here.” Javan rushed over to Astor and started shaking him. “Come on, man! Pretty sure we’re in the middle of a tree tremor!”
Astor snorted, brushed Javan off and kept on snoring. Meanwhile, the trees that were once as stiff as trees should be were becoming bendy and quivering in the night like slinkies. They began clanging and banging into each other.
It was only a matter of time before Javan and Astor were caught between some unhappy, tremoring trees.
Despite the growing noise, Astor continued to sleep. “Really, dude? You’re gonna make me carry you out of here?”
A root spanked Javan, and a branch from above thumped the back of his head. “That’s it. We’re leaving!”
Javan reached under Astor’s shoulders, hooked his arms around the man’s armpits and began dragging him. He ran as fast as he could.
But he was running backwards. In the middle of the night. Hauling the dead weight of Astor. Zigging to avoid tremoring trees. Zagging to keep from tripping on lurching roots.
Just as the thunderous noise from the banging trees was becoming unbearably deafening, Javan felt his right foot step from soft to solid ground. “I’m out!” He leaped back with his left foot and paused to catch his breath. “Made it.”
Only his celebration was a bit premature. A particularly large tree slammed into the ground beside Astor, spraying leaves and cotton everywhere. It picked itself back up and was on a collision course for Astor’s legs. “Uh oh.”
Javan scrambled backwards, barely escaping the wrath of the tree. He shakily lowered Astor to the ground and perched himself against the trunk of a straight, solid, untremoring tree. From his seat, he watched the trees tremor themselves out and return to a state of pristine stillness.
Once the world was quiet again, he looked at Astor. The man continued to snore. “Unbelievable.” Javan closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree.
“Ahhhh! Strolling into the acres was a bad idea!”
“Now you wake up?” Javan rolled his eyes and turned toward Astor. Only he was still sleeping. So who had said that? Who else was here?
Javan slowly stood. Maybe he had imagined hearing someone else speaking.
“How am I going to get myself out of this trap?” The male voice sounded stressed and strained, but it was real.
And Javan was the only one available to help whoever was stu
ck.
He had never met a Zandadorian on his own before. Would the guy see Javan as a fellow Zandadorian or realize he was an outsider from earth? Perhaps this would be a good test to see if he actually did belong in Zandador. Plus it wouldn’t hurt to do a good deed and help the guy out.
Javan took a few steps forward and yelled, “Who’s there?” He began skirting around the slanted acres, listening for a response. Whoever was talking had to be close.
“You can hear me?”
“Uh, yeah. Where are you?”
After a slight hesitation, the voice responded. “I’m trapped at the edge of the slanted acres. I got stuck during the tremor.”
“Okay,” Javan said, walking in the direction of the voice. “Keep talking, and I’ll find you.”
“I’m not talking.”
“Hate to disagree, buddy, but I can hear you.”
“What you hear, human, are my thoughts.”
Javan halted in his tracks. “Mertzer?”
“The one and only.”
Javan smiled. He was talking to the dragon he had come here to collect. Now the dragon was stuck in some sort of tree trap, making it impossible for him to run away. That meant all Javan had to do was hop on an immobile dragon’s back, and the dragon would be his.
After just one day of training, he would officially be a Dragon Collector. He forged ahead, certain he was about to set the record for the fastest collection of a dragon ever.
Then he met Mertzer.
Chapter 25
Unqualified
One turn around a tree as round and as tall as a water tower suddenly had Javan face to face with the black-eyed dragon.
Mertzer’s eyes and flaring nostrils were the only things black about him. His pointy ears, short snout and the rest of his sleek, twelve-foot long, wingless body were covered in stunning white triangular scales that shimmered in the moonlight. He was easily one of the most magnificent creatures Javan had ever seen.
