by Bryan Davis
Pushing against the chair, Abraham struggled to his feet. Elam and Walter balanced him from each side. “Ashley,” Abraham said, a new flush in his cheeks, “since you are well enough to walk, would you go to our infirmary and see what you can do? Even without fire, your healing touch might be of great help.”
Ashley glanced at Walter, then pulled her sweatshirt on. “Yes, Father Abraham.”
“Walter, you may escort her there and stay if you are so inclined.”
“Uh … sure.” Walter let go of Abraham and shifted toward Ashley. “If that’s where you want me.”
“Elam,” Abraham continued, “run to the garden and warn the dragons. I will be there soon.”
“Dikaios is at the drinking trough.” Elam grabbed a scabbard belt and strapped it around his waist. “He’ll be glad to carry you.”
“Very well.” Abraham pointed at the door. “Go with all speed.”
Listener rushed outside. Elam followed and, pushing into a full sprint, caught up with her just as they reached the forest. He scooped her up, barely slowing down as she wrapped her arms around his neck, still hanging on to her spyglass. After navigating the narrow path, he ran out onto the field. The scabbard dragged the ground at his side, but he ignored it and ran on.
In the distance, Clefspeare sat on his haunches, apparently standing guard while Thigocia and Roxil basked in the sunlight. Billy sat with his back against Clefspeare’s leg, his eyes open.
When Elam came within earshot, he was about to sound the warning, but Clefspeare spoke first. “I sense danger, and it is getting closer.”
“Me, too,” Billy said, rising to his feet. “I almost didn’t recognize it.”
Roxil lifted her head and sniffed the air. Her brow wrinkled, and her eyes flashed. “It is Goliath. I slept at his side too long to forget his scent.”
Turning his gaze upward, Elam scanned the sky. Cloudless and deep blue, it seemed close enough to touch, as if a person could reach up and scoop a fingerful of blue frosting. The surrounding trees and stone wall blocked his view of the horizon, so he tuned his ears to listen for the sound of beating wings.
“He is here,” Roxil said as she lifted her body. Her eyebeams turned on, and she aimed them at the sky above the village.
Elam swung that way. A dragon appeared and bent into an orbit over the field, flying high enough to stay out of range of spears and arrows. A single rider sat at the intersection of Goliath’s neck and back, waving a white flag.
Galloping hoofbeats sounded from the forest, Dikaios carrying Abraham into the field. When they arrived, Abraham slid down, apparently much stronger now, and focused on the circling dragon. “Flint is riding Goliath,” he said. “He is waiting for us to signal that he may land without confrontation.”
Clefspeare extended his neck toward the sky. “My danger sense tells me that their intentions are foul. This meeting is for their benefit, and theirs alone.”
“He cannot be trusted,” Roxil said. “He allowed Devin and Palin to murder my father and me, though I was his mate. For our race, he invented treachery.”
“But he can’t fight,” Elam said. “It’s three dragons against one.”
Thigocia struggled to her feet. She stretched out her wings, revealing the long, jagged stitching that held the torn membrane together on one and the tight bandage that bound the mainstay on the other. “We have two and a half dragons, but you are right. Goliath would not even be able to fight Clefspeare in a one-on-one battle, so he is not likely to instigate a conflict.”
Clefspeare blinked at her but said nothing.
“Can it hurt to hear what he has to say?” Elam asked.
Glaring at him, Roxil thumped her tail. “Would you listen to an offer from the devil?”
“If I could use the information against him, definitely. Maybe we can get a clue to what we’re up against.”
“Very well.” Abraham took a few steps away from the others, closed his eyes, and spread out his arms as if awaiting an embrace. He stayed in that position for several seconds, then returned. “That is our sign of vulnerability. Flint will understand.”
As Goliath swept lower, Clefspeare unfurled his wings and positioned himself in front of the humans and Dikaios. Thigocia and Roxil joined him and formed a wall. Staying on Goliath’s back as they landed, Flint wadded his white flag and tucked it into his waistband. “To whom shall I make my petition?” he asked. “It seems that foreign dragons have taken over this realm, and the humans are cowering behind wings and scales.”
Abraham gestured for Elam to follow and stepped around Clefspeare. “You may speak to me,” Abraham said. “I have not yet abdicated my seat.”
Flint arced his glance around Abraham. “I assumed a true warrior chief would have taken command, but I see that I was right. He is but a lad who lacks the confidence or experience to lead your ragtag children.”
“You have come here under a white flag,” Abraham said. “Speak your mind and be off.”
Flint patted the scales on Goliath’s neck. “My new friend has told me that you have a liar in your midst.”
Flexing his wounded hand, Abraham paused for a moment before replying. “What concern is that of yours?”
“Something you taught me, Father Abraham. Justice. I learned from the first day that I could sit in one of your classes that corruption breeds corruption, so I know the liar must be sent away. I am here to ensure that her exile is not too difficult to bear. I will take her with me, and she will be safe from the creatures of the wild, safe from exposure and hunger, and safe from the temptation to fill the minds of your people with deceit.” As he resettled himself on Goliath, the dormant companion swayed at the end of the chain around his neck, still as dark as before. “Surely you will agree, Father Abraham. While justice and the protection of your people demand that you send her away, mercy insists that she be allowed a place of safe refuge. When that is accomplished, I expect you to fulfill your obligation to preside over the ceremony we discussed earlier.”
Elam whispered to Abraham, “Is he being serious, or is this a ploy?”
“Both, I’m afraid. He speaks the truth, yet he hides his primary motivations.”
“Do you have any options? Can you refuse him?”
“I can let Angel decide, but I cannot let the sun set before this justice is done.” Abraham turned and peered through the gap in the dragon wall. “Billy? Would you please take Dikaios and fetch Angel from our infirmary?”
Dikaios ambled into the clear, Billy already mounted on his back. “Sure thing,” Billy said.
“And bring Valiant, if he has returned, and Angel’s children, as well.” Abraham’s shoulders drooped and his voice along with them. “We will need witnesses.”
As soon as Dikaios galloped away with Billy, Elam leaned close to Abraham and whispered more urgently. “You’re going to let Candle and Listener see their mother being shamed and sent away?”
Taking quick breaths, Abraham squeezed out his words. “The lesson … will be tragic … but it will … never be forgotten.” He breathed in deeply and finished stronger. “And I must make sure they are cared for.”
Elam felt a knot forming in his gut. This would be too painful to watch. How could he send a mother away in front of her own children? How could Abraham be so callous?
Abraham picked up a palm-sized stone and squeezed it in his hand. “If my people would follow the light, no one would ever have to suffer. In your own world, you might remember how the apostle Peter dealt with liars, both male and female. I am adhering to the same principle.”
Elam shifted his gaze to Flint. Earlier, he rode with a straight back and square shoulders, but as soon as Abraham picked up the stone, he sagged noticeably.
Flint slid down Goliath’s side and stooped in the grass. “I understand your gesture,” he said. “There is no need to remind me of your warped views of justice and mercy.”
Spewing twin lines of smoke, Goliath thumped his tail on the ground. “While we wait for the
deceiver,” he said with a growl, “hear my petition. Abraham and the warrior chief must understand who I am. As the firstborn son of Makaidos, I am the true king of the dragons. The one who poses as Arramos is not who he says he is, and Makaidos is gone forever, so as the primary heir of the king, I assume my rightful position and command all dragons from my world to submit to my authority.”
Thigocia snorted. “Your pride blinds you, Goliath. You speak as though you have forgotten who I am. As Makaidos’s surviving mate, I have the authority to choose the next king and queen, and I chose Clefspeare as heir to the throne long ago.”
“A king without a queen? Clefspeare has no dragon mate. Will you violate the sacred tradition in order to satisfy your prejudice?”
Thigocia glanced at Roxil, then turned her flashing red eyes back on Goliath. “What exactly is your petition?”
“I am here to take back my mate,” Goliath said. “With her at my side, I am the only dragon who can rightfully claim to be king.”
Roxil backed away a step, her pupils pulsing scarlet. “I died and rose from the dead as a human, then I was reborn yet again and resurrected in this world. Death breaks our covenant, so I am no longer your mate.”
“I, too, died and rose again as a human, a man named Dragon in this world. Is it any surprise that my companion would recognize my dragon nature and assign me such a name in this world? Is it any surprise that the same companion would so easily attach to Timothy, who was also a dragon at one time? And is it any surprise that once that companion was gone I would be able to shed its brainwashing power and return as the dragon I was before?
“Now that I have been resurrected in the same way you have, we are once again mates. We bypassed the words of the traditional covenant veil by substituting our own ceremony. You agreed that making our private vows stronger than what tradition called for gave us the right to consummate our union. Have you forgotten what we sealed with blood on that fateful night?”
Elam looked back at Roxil and imagined the covenant veil that dragons created to sanctify the wedding of two of their own kind. They would pass between two or more dragons who spoke the vows for the potential mates, and if the intention of their hearts didn’t match the words of the covenant, they wouldn’t be able to pass through.
Roxil’s wings trembled. She backed away another step. “I was a fool. When I said that our union would survive our deaths, romantic notions addled my brain. I did not really think that—”
“That we would survive death?” Goliath turned on his eyebeams and drew scarlet letters on the ground. “Shall I quote your own words?”
“I remember them. You have no need to remind me.”
“Then I will humor myself.” Goliath breathed out a ring of smoke that hung in the air, unmoved by the suddenly calm winds. “The covenant veils of the dragons who went before us were no stronger than the flesh of the humans we despise. Like those vermin, so easily roasted in our flames, the unions of other dragons perished with the fiery trial of death. Yet, our union will survive even the end of our mortal lives, for we will rise again to new life, and whatever world we find ourselves in, I will still be yours forever. As long as I have the strength to breathe in air and light, I will stay at your side.”
Roxil averted her eyes. Her tail twitched back and forth as the slimmest of smoke trails rose from her nostrils.
“Did you speak these words or not?” Goliath asked.
Roxil’s tail stopped twitching. “I spoke them.”
“Did you also say that covenant veils were for unfaithful dragons whose words could not be trusted?”
“I said that.”
“Will you then be one of those dragons whose words cannot be trusted, or will you instead honor your vow and come to my side once again as my mate?”
Thigocia thumped her tail so hard, she gouged out a divot. “Roxil, you made that vow before you knew he was a murderer. Just hours ago he killed a human baby, and he bared my vulnerability, ready to kill me, as well. His own mother!”
Roxil blew out two plumes of black smoke. “Does that change my vow? I am not a faithless dragon! I must honor my words, or I will be a liar and a hypocrite!”
Clefspeare shuffled close to Roxil and laid a wing over hers. “Mother, it has been a very long time since I have been able to call you by that name, but I am honored that I can do so once again. Will you hear the words of your son?”
She extended her neck and touched her cheek to his. “Of course, my son. If I had listened to your counsel long ago, I would have avoided a lot of heartache.”
Clefspeare drew his head back and looked her in the eye. “Goliath is mounting an army in order to fight and kill each one of us. Do you mean to join him in that effort? In your passion to prevent personal hypocrisy, will you become an accessory to the murder of your mother and your son?”
Roxil stepped to the side, pulling herself from under his wing. “I … I do not know what to say. I would never want anything to happen to you or Mother, or …”
“Or our other youngling,” Goliath said.
“What?” Roxil whipped her neck toward him. “We have no other younglings.”
“Come with me, and I will tell you about a dragon who has never known a mother.”
Her eyes flashed. “Impossible! I would know if I gave birth.”
“Normally, yes.” Goliath’s teeth showed through his widening smile. “Yet, I have information that I will share if you will keep your covenant.”
“Liar!” Roxil swung her tail and turned her back. “I am no fool! How dare you try such a ploy!”
Elam tugged on Abraham’s sleeve and whispered. “I have an idea. Will you trust me?”
“Of course. You are the warrior chief.”
Picking up a stone, Elam strode toward Goliath and Flint. “You know what the law of this land calls for when someone lies or rebels, don’t you?”
Flint glanced at the stone. “Yes, I know it all too well.”
“Then why are you still alive?” Elam asked, tossing the stone toward him.
Flint caught it but kept his eyes on Elam. “Because the law also allows for exile if the judge so deems.”
“Then the decision is not up to Roxil. If she stays, she will be a liar who must either be stoned or sent into exile. If she leaves with you, then we could consider her a traitor to our cause. Either way, she will never be able to live among us.”
Thigocia lowered her head and growled. “Elam, why are you doing this? When they gather all their forces, we cannot defeat them without Roxil.”
Elam picked up another stone. “If I am to be warrior chief, I need to know that I am leading an army of holy warriors. If we don’t keep our integrity, then we cannot count on God’s help against any army, no matter how evil our opponents are.” He strode toward Roxil, extending a finger directly toward her snout. “If this dragon stays here, then she will be a handicap, not an asset. I will not tolerate having a liar in my ranks.”
As he drew close, he whispered, “Roxil, trust me and listen carefully to my next words.”
He spun dramatically and pointed at Goliath, raising his voice. “Now go with your mate. It is better for us if you are there than here.”
Roxil tilted her head, then, one eye squinting, sniffed the air near Elam. After a second or two, she scuffled toward Goliath, a growl spicing her voice. “I will go. Since these humans no longer want me here, my choice is an easy one.”
Chapter 19
Life or Death
Hoofbeats sounded from the forest. Angel rode atop Dikaios with Listener seated behind her. Billy, Valiant, and Candle followed, jogging in a row. As soon as they arrived, Elam helped Angel dismount, while Billy carried Listener to the ground.
Listener, clutching her spyglass, as usual, beamed as she surveyed the host of dragons. Her companion buzzed all around, flashing with rapid pulses of blue light. Angel’s shoulders drooped, and her glazed eyes focused on nothing in particular.
Elam searched for Angel’s compani
on, but it wasn’t in sight. He shifted his gaze to her hand. Her fingers loosely clutched something, but if her companion was in her grasp, it showed no signs of life.
Taking her by the hand, Elam led Angel to Abraham. She stood in front of him, her chin low. Wearing a loose-fitting brown frock that looked more like an altered potato sack than a woman’s dress, she folded her bare arms over her chest and trembled.
Valiant stooped next to Elam and put an arm around each of Angel’s children, whispering something to them as he nuzzled their ears. His expression seemed a cross between curiosity and concern, but no hint of anger shaded his face.
Listener pointed her spyglass into the air and gazed through the eyepiece, apparently unaware of the solemn assembly’s tragic purpose. She lowered her glass and looked up at Elam. “I see something strange.”
Bending over, Elam whispered. “What?”
“Smoke in the sky, so thick all of the prairie grass would have to be on fire.”
Elam looked up. The sky, still as blue as Sapphira’s eyes, gave no hint of smoke, and no burning smell tinged the air. He whispered, “Show me after we’re done.”
She nodded and lifted the spyglass to her eye again.
When everyone fell silent, save for the whistling wind, Abraham glanced between Flint and Angel. After heaving a great sigh, he spoke with a loud, somber voice. “Angel, I have called you here to answer a charge that I am bringing against you in the presence of witnesses. You claimed that Enoch asked you to relay his desire to change one of the prophecies that Paili sang in the garden. Is that true?”
Without lifting her head, Angel replied softly, “Yes, Father Abraham.”
The sky dimmed. Elam jerked his head upward. A gray cloud had drifted in front of the sun, part of a thicker, darker bank that streamed from the horizon. He scanned the others. Valiant’s eyes had trained on the cloud bank. Candle stared at it as well, while Listener kept her spyglass aimed in that direction.
Abraham and Angel, however, seemed to pay no attention. “Did Enoch actually ask you to communicate that change to Paili?” Abraham asked.
