“You roamed the country of Trana before coming to Onyx?” I can’t imagine anyone coming to this place willingly. I think of all the ships that sailed past here, none daring to stop. Even though I’ve only glimpsed it from afar one or two times on the back of a dragon, I know the island looks like a fortress on the water, and even the forest looks black and dangerous.
He nods. “I heard rumors that dragons still scorched the lands, but they stopped coming in a herd that blotted out the sun, burning everything in its path. I realized the ones scorching were acting on their own, outside of the herd. That some were the changelings Jetarna created. So, I hunted them. I slaughtered them. One after another.” He nods again, several times.
I slide away from him, shivering. “You killed innocent children?”
His eyes widen. “Not children. Changelings. Mistakes. Sometimes I had to kill an entire family, because without sun’s acid there was no way to know which ones were infected by the blood passed down from the original victim. I know I’ve told you that sun’s acid is the only way to kill a dragon. But a changeling—even though they are stronger and heal more quickly than a human— you can kill by severing the head when they are in their human form. I did it while they slept, so there was no chance of them changing. It was a messy, gruesome process.”
Bile rises in my throat, and I can’t help but look away from Muuth. He couldn’t help it, I told myself. He had to fix Jetarna’s mistake. But when my eyes return to his, I see a savageness there that defies anything remotely human. He murdered, and it changed him into this.
He sees my reaction and blinks. “One day, years later, I could not kill anymore. I spared a child. A boy whose family thought he was cursed by a devil. I took him in. I cared for him. And then I brought him here. The dragon pair, Eni and Furo, claimed him as their youngling. Years later, Ona tried to kill the boy and Furo challenged him. Eni and Furo both died that day.”
“You’re telling me Adom’s story.” I always thought Adom had come from the dragon herd. That somehow he was born to the dragons. Learning he’s actually a Tranar, like me, does little to settle my nerves. Despised by his human parents and also by the dragon herd. What a horrible, lonely life he must lead. No wonder he can’t stay in one place or the other for long.
“He is the cleverest and the worst of them.” Muuth takes in a breath. “I’m sorry, El. I knew telling you would change everything. Adom brought you here. But it’s all my fault. I’m responsible for him and for everything he’s ever done to you.”
SIX
The next few days, I plant lettuce seeds, hang herbs out to dry, scour the caves, cook, and feed the younglings. I haven’t given up hope of escape, but when I go Muuth will stay and he’ll need the garden and herbs to survive. While I was in Trana, mountain goats ate the turnips and nibbled the herbs that ripened in my neglected Onyx garden. So, on a gloomy day, I venture into the Forest of Four to restock my store of seeds. A smug goat bleats in my cave when I return, chewing the leaves of my bed. I count it among the supplies for the evening meal.
Muuth helps me gather buckets of water for the cauldrons. Even though I don’t blame him, after what he told me I still find it difficult to look him in the eye. It isn’t his fault his wife experimented on people using dragon blood. It isn’t his fault he spared a child who would later destroy my life. But I can’t help but feel a little doubtful about him now. He didn’t tell me about the boat. He didn’t tell me about Adom. He didn’t tell me he had killed as many children as Adom had, that he could be a more violent murderer than all the dragons combined. He was my friend, the person I trusted the most. We spent years together, and he could have told me things that might have changed my thinking about the dragons, about Adom. About him. He chose not to.
We light the fires and boil water with the herbs. After distributing animal meats among the cauldrons, I throw in several beetroots I dug up in the forest. I also deposit multitudes of wild mushrooms and tomatoes in the mix. The meal takes a greater time to prepare, for the roots have to soften. The gong resounds two times before the dinner simmers to completion. But the meat shreds tenderly, and the stew tastes more textured than usual. It brings to mind the food I ate at the tavern. Thick, and meaty, and full of flavor.
Once Muuth and I place the last cauldron by Ona’s feet, we slide into the shadows of the cave to enjoy our own meal. Dragons slurp the meal in silence. I wait with baited breath.
Red juices pour over the sides of the cauldrons, oozing to the ground while thick steam curls up. Root gore drips off slippery snouts. Scaly eyelids sink. At last, Ona’s head bobs. He speaks in dragon tongue. Silva studies the soup and heaves a sigh that buffets the cavern walls.
“Well done, girl.” Muuth slaps me on the back. “If you are trying to buy their affection, you may be succeeding. They are singing your praises.” He hunches over and eats the stew straight from the bowl, face to food, same as the dragons.
“I don’t want them to sing my praises,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the masticating dragons. They are a parade of colors, light bouncing off their scales, illuminating the darkness of the cavern. “I want them to decide, of their own volition, to set me free.”
Muuth gargles and gulps. “You think making delicious food will make that happen?”
“No. But proving to them that I’m strong might.”
He stares. “The dragons won’t defy Adom’s order.”
“Because they’re fearful of the changeling curse.” I slide my wooden spoon in the bowl. “What if I can make them believe I am stronger than he is? That I could cause the curse the same way Jetarna did? They would have to listen to me.”
“Jetarna never caused the curse, El.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It doesn’t work like that. Sun’s acid isn’t something you can make happen. It happens on its own.”
“But she used dragon blood to make the changelings. And during a sun’s acid event, the changelings can infect the full blooded dragons with a single touch, correct? So, what if I used changeling blood on the dragons during a sun’s acid event? Would that turn them into stone?” My heart quickens. For the first time, we have a plan. A real way to kill the dragons of Onyx.
“I’ve thought of that,” he mutters. “But you can’t get them all at the same time. The event doesn’t last long—last time it was under an hour. Dragons fly. We don’t. So how do you get all of them at once with the blood before they figure out what you’re doing and kill you?”
“Cover yourself in the blood.”
“That’s crazy. The blood reacts to the sun’s acid. I mean fizzles and coagulates and turns solid. I don’t know what it’d do to a human who was wearing it like battle armor.”
I savor a mouthful of hot stew. Potatoes melt in my mouth as the broth settles in my stomach. “Okay, so actual changeling blood won’t work for us, probably.”
“Not to mention there isn’t a sun’s acid event anytime soon.”
I perk my head up. “Do you know when the next one will be?”
His eyes go blank. “No, I do not.”
And here again, I have a wave of distrust about Muuth. I want to believe him, but doubt is itching inside me. “So, no sun’s acid. How about poison? I know you said before that poison won’t kill a dragon, but could it put them to sleep?”
“Nightshade could work on the younglings. But won’t last long.”
“How about an elixir to put the younglings to sleep for several hours?”
Muuth pokes at moss growing along the sides of the cave. He sets his bowl down on the ground and sighs. “I’d need to run some calculations. Can you bring me five bushels of nightshade? There is some growing on the south end of the island. Use gloves and a mask.”
I take another thoughtful bite. “I’ll do it tomorrow. But to be clear, I don’t want to hurt them. They may not be humans, but they’re still babies. Make sure the calculations
are accurate.”
He nods. “I hope you know what you’re doing, El. One wrong move...”
He leaves the thought unfinished.
~ * ~
Muuth equips me with leather gloves so I can collect the bushels of nightshade without exposing myself. I take the rickety wooden wagon and hand shovel and scoop chunks of decomposed granite clay from a muddy rock bed on the south side of the mountain. In two hours, I reach the spot Muuth showed me on the map. When I get there, all I want to do is take a nap. There’s no time for sleep, though, I’ve got younglings to feed and a meal to cook. I withdraw the axe tucked into my belt and hack at the woody stems of the shrub, careful to preserve as much foliage and plump berries as possible.
“What took you so long?” Muuth asks when I stumble into his cave hours later.
I move to brush a twig from my hair, but his hands fly to stop me.
“Fool,” he growls. “You still have your gloves on. Take them off and wash your hands.”
I do as he instructs, tossing the gloves in his cleaning bin and scrubbing my hands thoroughly in a soapy bucket on the floor. “How long will this take?”
“The rest of the evening,” he answers tersely. “You’ll have to make the dinner yourself.”
Sighing, I leave him to the work and go out to the bathing cave to wash and gather some water and leaves to keep the clay and sediment moist overnight, before going about the strenuous evening duties so the dragons don’t notice anything awry.
The following morning, I hear a whisper in my cave. “El,” the voice hisses. I jolt awake, brushing leaves off my shift and pad through my cave on curled toes. Then I dart around the corner to discover Muuth sitting by the entrance, holding a green vial of sloshing brown, distilled liquid.
I wipe the sleep from my eyes. “What is it?”
He grins. “Six drops will knock out the entire litter of younglings for one day.”
“And you’re sure it won’t hurt them?”
“They’re little, but they’re dragons. It would cause a more serious reaction if you gave it to Adom or one of the other changelings. I reinforced it with a dash of rosary peas and poppy.”
“And what if I put it on their food?”
“Double the dosage.” He hands the vial to me. “Now tell me your plan.”
“Not yet,” I say. “But when Ona takes me to Trana, I need you to sneak into the younglings cave and give them each a bath. Can you do that for me?”
“Ona? Why would—?”
“Can you do that for me?” I plead.
He nods. “El, if this works, do you plan to return to Onyx?”
“You know that was never what I wanted.”
“So, I might never see you again?”
I hug him. “If you want to see me again, all you’d have to do is apply some of your secret brilliance toward building a boat and outwitting the dragons. That shouldn’t be too hard for someone as clever as you, Muuth.” It’s a slight jab, but I say it with a smile.
He dips his chin, but his eyes look hollow and lonely.
I take Muuth’s vial and the bucket of clay. Immediately, I dash to the meat cave to collect slabs of chuck for the younglings to consume. I divide the carrion into even pieces so each youngling will consume a poisoned portion. Sprinkle twelve drops evenly on the cuts, careful not to touch any of it without a glove. Then I collect it all in my wagon and roll the squeaky carrier to the younglings cave to move to the next part of my plan.
The younglings are as rambunctious as ever when I first begin cleaning their cave, but throwing raw beef in their trough distracts them enough for me to finish my work without the usual scratches and burns. A few days ago, one opened its mouth and said, “dragon.” Silva corrected the youngling—making it speak in dragon tongue instead. Thankfully, Silva is not here to oversee my work today. As soon as it sees me, the little one spouts the word. I toss out the meat and let the younglings go to work on it.
Halfway through their revelry, I begin to worry. Is Muuth certain the poison won’t kill them? Has he ever tested it on them before? How can he know? What if he’s wrong? Then I will have the blood of innocents on my hands. The dragons will kill me. Or I’ll become like Muuth, wild and unremorseful and half-crazed.
After a short while, they begin dropping like sleepy pups, midflight or between sloppy steps. I gather the still creatures into a line and check their pulses to ensure they are still alive. So far, so good. Then I lift each youngling carefully and place them—one by one—into the wagon. I have to make several trips outside, but finally I have all thirteen of them sprawled out in an open area where a tunnel opens onto a ledge that is small enough the adult dragons won’t notice right away. The sun is shining down on us.
I pull out the clay, whip my hand in, and begin “painting” the younglings with the sediment. It is wet and chunky and obviously slapped on them. I hope that when it dries, the effect becomes more frightening. I am careful to give a wide berth around their eyes, and their snouts so they won’t have a difficult time breathing. At last, I reach the end of the line and clean my hands with a wet rag. The first few of them have already dried.
They appear to be stone.
Now, all that’s left to do is wait until Silva discovers them. The dragons won’t dare get too close to examine them—one touch could turn them to stone. They’ll believe a sun’s acid event is occurring and will not want to risk getting infected. I will have to convince them that I know of a cure. They’ll have to trust me if they want the younglings restored to normal.
I set about my normal tasks, humming the lullaby my mother used to sing. Wash and hang my clothes out to dry on the clothesline. Dig up mushrooms and wild berries and store them in containers. Pack my bag and fill it with dresses and shoes from Adom’s chambers. Oh, and all the dragon scales I’d collected the past few weeks. The next time I’m in Trana, I won’t be reliant on Adom to feed, clothe and house me. My eyes fall on Fifi. My hands waver over her head. Should I? An image of Muuth’s lonely profile fills my head. No. I love Fifi for what she represents, but she is only a doll. Muuth will suffer in my absence. He needs her more, now.
Withdrawing my hand, I spare a sigh. Goodbye, Fifi. I throw the satchel onto my back packed and prepared to flee. But first I must go to prep the food for dinner.
A bellowing shriek arrests me in the middle of my trek.
A gloomy smile splits my face.
~ * ~
The sun creeps up in vibrant shades of pink and orange. Ona descends. Before I can register our bearings, he lands. My body whips forward. I lose my footing and tumble, landing on the ground in a heap of bushes. Ona nuzzles me. Warm slime covers my forehead. Black breath curls my toes. Gagging, I wipe insidious dragon saliva off of me. Fearing another accidental bout of drool, I spring to my feet and face the Head Dragon.
“I did as you asked, human. We are in Trana. Get what you need.”
It was easy to convince the dragons that the younglings were infected by the stone disease. No problems there. The harder part was convincing them that I knew of a cure, but I’d need resources on Trana to make it. Ona wanted to stomp my head off with his huge claw. Silva threatened to skin me alive. Nerama wanted to drown me. The threats grew increasingly more violent until Muuth vouched for me. He claimed he gave me the list of ingredients for the cure, and that he’d be able to make it if I brought back the right things. So the dragons listened, like they always seem to do with Muuth.
“Muuth has been collecting samples of their scales for the antidote,” I say. “Trana is still new to me, so I need to find Adom to help me get herbs for the cure. You should go back to the mountain and wait for him.” Muuth is bathing the younglings now. They should awaken while Ona is in flight, and all will be restored to normal by the time he arrives on the island.
“Someday, I’ll kill you for poisoning the younglings,” Ona growls. �
�I can tell the wild one I let you go. He will not know.”
Another lie to save my skin. “Yes, he will. Adom has changeling abilities. You don’t. He has a heightened sense of smell. He’d know in a second if you killed me.”
“And how are you going to find him?” Ona demands.
I touch my nose and grin. “Lucky for you, he has a soft spot for me.”
Ona examines the sky. “How much time do we have? Before it is irreversible?”
“Not long. Two days, maybe? You’d better hurry back so I can find Adom.”
“And you will accompany him to Onyx with the supplies needed for the antidote?”
I grin. “I’m not an idiot, Ona. You’ll never see me again. Adom will bring you all the supplies you need, and Muuth will make the cure.” And you’ll look like a complete fool when the younglings wake up and the dragon herd realizes I tricked you, I think. I would never have tried something like this in the past because I would have been too afraid of what they’d do to Muuth. But now that I know they need him to observe the sun with his telescope.
Ona’s eyes darken, like he’s reading my thoughts. “Thanks to you, we know now there is a cure for the stone disease. Quite the useful piece of information. We don’t need Muuth to tell us when to protect ourselves from the sun’s acid event anymore. We’ll torture him and force him to tell us how to brew the elixir. That old man will make a nice bit of gristle at our next meal.”
Horror sticks in my throat. There’s no elixir to brew because what I did to the younglings isn’t really the stone disease. But when Ona realizes I tricked him, he might still retaliate. Muuth could hide from them, but once Adom finds out about our trick we’ll both be in trouble.
My breath catches. The dragons might not be able to manage Muuth’s laboratory equipment, but Adom could. A chill sinks into my bones. If the herd was angry enough, could they make Adom assume Muuth’s role so that they could eliminate Muuth? I swallow past a hard lump in my throat. “You’d still need someone to distill the elixir. You need him.” It can’t hurt to remind Ona that Muuth has other scientific talents, too, not just his ability to use the telescope.
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