A Dragon and Her Girl

by Max Florschutz

  Uskor moved along at a brisk pace, not pausing or hesitating when the tunnel came to a fork. He knew exactly where he was going; or, at least, he certainly gave that impression. They continued along like this, moving in a single file line in total silence, for what seemed like hours. Jinari felt they were moving at a slight downward angle all the while. She began to worry about finding their way out.

  “How much further,” Jinari whispered to Uskor, her soft voice carrying faint echoes.

  Uskor turned to face her. His bulging eyes looked almost luminous in the blue light of Anessi’s staff. He nodded, and pointed ahead, and continued walking. Jinari took that to mean that they were close, and indeed, after a few more paces, she could see a faint light. She signaled for Anessi to dim the light on her staff. Uskor stopped and the mouth of some sort of opening, and Jinari came up alongside him.

  What she saw made her heart skip two beats. The cavern opened into an enormous space, with other tunnels and openings surrounding the large cavern, some smaller than the one they were standing in, others over fifty times larger. A large fire burned at the far end. Jinari saw the glint of gold and silver, the sparkle of fine jewels, all piled in heaps and heaps throughout the cavern. Everything had a brilliant shine, nothing was dull. In the middle of it all she saw the dragon, curled up and sleeping as if he were an old dog curled up at his master’s feet.

  The dragon was enormous, Jinari estimated him to be at least on hundred lengths from head to tail. His body was covered in rigid-looking brown-red scales, his midsection beneath his folded leathery wings rising and falling slightly with his sleeping breaths. Jinari drew in a breath—his head was covered in boney spikes that protruded out the top and sides. Large pointed teeth and fangs were also visible, even though its mouth was fully closed.

  “You and your two warrior girls will climb down here,” Uskor said in a whispered tone. “The mage and I will remain here. We will create a distraction. When the dragon looks up, strike him high on the neck, where the jaw ends and the neck begins. This is a vulnerable spot.”

  “The only vulnerable spot?” Jinari asked, raising her brow, not taking her eyes of the massive creature.

  “The most vulnerable spot, and easiest for us to access,” Uskor replied. “You could poke it in the eye, but that’s not going to kill it, only upset it greatly. Stab and cut high on the neck, and he not only loses its ability to breathe fire, he eventually dies as well.”

  Jinari blinked. “Eventually?”

  “It will take some time, yes. How long, I do not know.”

  Jinari took a deep breath and summoned Anessi, Tutia, and Kelen to her. She gave instructions, and motioned Tutia and Kelen to follow her down the cliff into the dragon’s main chamber.

  Jinari took short, slow steps, being very careful to make as little noise as possible, No noise at all was ideal. Tutia and Kelen followed silently, and closely, behind. The closer they came to the dragon, the more her heart raced. She gripped her axe tight, and close to her body. Soon they were within twenty paces of the dragon’s head. She could feel the warmth of its breath. One of its wings twitched a bit. Jinari froze, holding her breath, terrified. She looked back to Tutia and Kelen. Both were frozen like statues. She craned her neck a bit more to look further back and up at Anessi and Uskor. Uskor motioned with his hand as if he wanted Jinari to move a closer. The dragon’s wing twitched again. Jinari swallowed, and slowly continued forward.

  After six or seven steps, Jinari froze again when she heard what sounded like a muffled screech. It seemed to have come from the direction of the dragon, but it did not sound like something that would come from so large a creature. She looked around, then back to Tutia and Kelen. Tutia’s expression was unreadable, Kelen simply shrugged. Jinari turned back and took another step forward, and that’s when she saw it.

  From underneath the dragon’s wing emerged a small creature, no bigger than Jinari’s own torso. Its skin was smooth and of a dark-purplish hue. It walked on all fours and had two protruding lumps on its back. Two more creatures, exactly the same features, also came out from beneath the dragon’s wing. Jinari’s heart sank at the sudden realization that the dragon was not a he at all; it was a she, and these were her offspring.

  Jinari glanced back, giving Uskor and Anessi a frightened look. Uskor smiled and said something to Anessi, who raised her staff. They were about to create the diversion. Jinari was sure they had not seen the baby dragons. In a panic, she shouted, “Wait!”

  Her voice echoed loudly, causing everyone’s shoulders to tense. Anessi stood motionless, her staff high in the air. Jinari heard the baby dragons’ screeching sounds again. She turned and saw the large, open eyes of the dragon staring directly at her, Tutia, and Kelen. The baby dragons were playfully wrestling with each other near the dragon’s nose. The dragon lifted her head, her eyes still trained on Jinari. Jinari felt a puff of hot air as the dragon exhaled.

  “NOW!”

  It was Uskor’s voice, and before his voice’s echo could bounce there was a crackle and a brilliant flash of light. The dragon wailed, and brought her head back down in an apparent effort to protect her babies. Tutia called a battle cry and ran toward the dragon, broadsword held high. Kelen stood her ground, her bow notched and trained in the general direction of the dragon.

  “Tutia, wait, no!” Jinari called after Tutia but it was too late. The dragon simply effortlessly brushed her head to the side, catching Tutia on one of its boney spikes, impaling her. Blood spurted in all directions. Tutia cried in agony as the dragon lifted her head and tossed Tutia aside in a motion akin to a nod. Tutia was dead before she came back down to the cavern floor.

  Jinari did the only thing she could do at that moment—she turned and ran, grabbing Kelen’s arm and pulling her along. Uskor and Anessi were not retreating, however. They were in fact running toward the dragon. Her feet still moving, Jinari turned to look back. The dragon was bringing her head down to her babies, not paying the intruders any mind at the moment. “We have to get out of here!” she shouted as they met Uskor and Anessi.

  “No!” Uskor shouted back. “We have a task to complete! Kill the dragon, and its offspring!”

  “I will not!” Jinari said firmly.

  “You will kill the dragon and its offspring, or die trying! That is your mission.” Uskor trembled, visibly upset.

  Jinari took a breath. She looked to Kelen, then to Anessi. Uskor drew a long dagger, and moved past Jinari in the direction of the dragon.

  “Uskor, no!” Jinari’s head swirled. She wanted to grab Kelen and Anessi and run, but found her feet unmoving. The dragon saw Uskor coming, and her eyes narrowed in anticipation. Before she could think of what to do next, Jinari felt something hiss past her ear. Kelen had fired an arrow, and it struck the dragon in her eye.

  The dragon roared in pain, and brought her head up, exposing the babies. Uskor raised his dagger, and made directly for them. Kelen notched and drew back another arrow, but Jinari used the handle of her axe to knock the bow out of her hands. Kelen grunted in frustration, fumbling to reach for it on the ground.

  “Anessi, we have to stop him!” Jinari gave Anessi a pleading look, and Anessi nodded in understanding.

  Jinari moved after Uskor, a good ten paces behind him, and heard Anessi’s low voice chant something. Mere steps before he reached the baby dragons, magic wind blew Uskor backward off his feet, landing in front of Jinari. Without hesitation, she lifted her axe, then brought it down onto Uskor’s neck. He was dead before he even knew what was happening.

  “Jinari!” Anessi’s voice came from behind, and when Jinari turned, she saw Kelen aiming an arrow directly at her. Jinari heard the dragon’s roar once again. On the ledge, Anessi wrestled Kelen, each attempting to overpower the other. Jinari ran back to them, but before she could reach them, Kelen pulled her dagger and stuck it into Anessi’s side. Anessi staggered back. Jinari raised her axe as she came closer, hesitated for a brief moment, then buried her weapon between Kelen’s shoulder bla
des. Kelen stumbled forward and fell face first on the rocky cavern floor. Her axe still buried in Kelen’s back, Jinari knelt to Anessi’s side.

  “I’m okay,” Anessi grunted, trying to get up, dagger protruding from her hip.

  “Stay down,” Jinari gently pushed Anessi back down, simultaneously pulling the dagger out of her side. Anessi groaned, but fished a pouch from her belt, and sprinkled the contents onto her wound.

  The hair on the back of Jinari’s neck stood up, and she whirled around to see the dragon’s head, complete with an arrow protruding from her eye, a mere five paces from them. The dragon was unmoving. Jinari moved toward it.

  “Jinari!” Anessi’s cry was pleading.

  “Stay there,” Jinari said calmly, slowly moving toward the dragon. “Don’t move.”

  The dragon remained still as Jinari walked right up to her and gently put a hand on her snout. The dragon’s hot breath caused beads of sweat to form on her neck and forehead. Jinari reached up and grabbed the arrow, pulling it out. The dragon winced and wailed in pain, letting out several short breaths with hints of smoke from her nostrils. The dragon turned her head and looked down to her babies, looked back to Jinari, then brought her head down right in front of the human’s face. Jinari again gently put her hand on the dragon’s snout.

  “Yes,” she said in a soothing tone, stroking the dragon’s snout as if it were a kitten on her lap. “I am Man-kin, not Vulgar-kin. Thank you for reminding me of this.”

  The dragon puffed, then turned to retrieve her babies, who were still squealing and wrestling with each other, seemingly oblivious to the entire situation.

  Jinari turned and walked back to Anessi, who was now standing. “What will you tell Lord Gar-Dum?” Anessi asked.

  “Nothing,” Jinari replied. “We’re not reporting back to Gar-Dum. We will retrieve our clan, the Kur-hik, and seek out the rest of our people—the Man-kin.”

  “How will we get out of these caverns?” Anessi asked. “Without Uskor, I fear we will not be able to backtrack out steps. We could end up walking for days before we find out way out.”

  Jinari looked over to the dragon, whose babies were crawling back into the safety and comfort of her wing. “Why walk,” she said, her lips curling into a grin, “when we can fly?”

  Ash and Blood

  Hannah Marie

  Chapter One

  Eva coughed up ash and dust as she fought her way out of the cellar. The heavy oak door crumbled between her fingers, singeing the rough skin of her palms. Even after three days, the embers burned hot against her hands. The house had collapsed on top of the cellar door and had it been any other disaster—a hurricane, tornado, flood—she would have been buried alive.

  She was fortunate it had been fire.

  She pushed her way through the crumbling wood and stepped into the sunlight.

  Gray. Gray and red and orange. Everywhere. Ash coated everything that wasn’t still burning. What once had been a thriving village full of tailors, farmers, weavers, and bakers now drifted away on the wind.

  The Queen’s judgement was swift and terrible, riding the sky on wings and breathing fire. This village, Eva’s village, would be a warning to the others who wished to disobey.

  Eva turned around and looked at the wreckage of her house. In the cellar, she had heard the screams of her mother and sisters, had felt the blazing heat of the flame, and done nothing. What could she have done?

  She bent and pulled at a board. It came away in pieces.

  They were still under there. Buried by fire and wood and ash.

  Tears ached in her throat, but she shoved them back down, bundling her emotions into a tight ball in the middle of her chest. There would be time enough for tears after.

  She slipped back into the cellar and collected a few items in a bag. Things she would need for a journey. Things she would need for revenge.

  “Hello?” The voice trembled on the air.

  Eva flinched, her hand tightening around the pack.

  “Is anyone alive?” It was a man’s voice, laced with shock and fear. “Is anyone alive?”

  No. They were all gone. Every last villager burned alive in their homes, in the streets, and in the market. Everyone was ash and bone.

  Eva scrambled out of the cellar. The voice came from what was once the town square. She padded down the cobblestones, stepping around wood and bones.

  A man stood by the small fountain full of gray water, thick with sludge, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He stared at what was once the marketplace. His patched brown coat and purple felt hat didn’t belong in this world of soot and smoldering flames.

  Eva approached, her shoes noiseless. “Who are you?” The words were born from a throat ravaged by screams and smoke.

  With a shout of surprise, the man jumped backwards, almost falling into the fountain. Eva watched dispassionately as he regained his balance and braced himself against the stone ledge. He stared open-mouthed at the apparition. Eva knew she looked a sight. With pale gray hair, clothes, and skin, she looked more dead than alive.

  “I’m Timas the tinker.” He pointed at the pack on the ground. Tin pots, pans, and cups spilled out of it. “I come to Rose Haven every year for the Reina Day Celebration.”

  Eva blinked ash out of her eyes and then turned her head, taking in the devastated village. “We won’t be celebrating the Queen’s birthday this year.”

  “But the festival next week . . . I mean . . .” The man tugged at his beard. “What . . . what happened?”

  Eva shouldered her pack, already dismissing the tinker. “Some of our men joined Huru’s army. The Queen found out.”

  His face paled. “Traitors?”

  Eva turned her head sharply and stared at him. “Traitors or no, judgment has been rendered.” She waited until he lowered his eyes before she looked away. “Don’t stay here. It may come back.” She moved through the square.

  “Wait!” he called.

  Eva paused and looked over her shoulder. Memories of laughter and kisses and love assaulted her, choking her in a way that the ash never could. They were dead. All of them. And maybe she was, too.

  “Where are you going?” the tinker asked.

  Eva took a good long look at the square, committing it to memory. She would need this later. When she could feel again.

  “To kill a dragon.”

  Chapter Two

  The Queen preferred solitude after a raid.

  Morley balanced the tray on one hand and knocked gently on the ornately carved door. Leaves and flowers and small woodland creatures grazed his knuckles, frozen in the grain of the wood. As always, he searched the carvings until he found the mouse. He swore it was alive, darting between vines and hiding behind the larger animals. But no one believed him. It was just a wooden mouse, carved into the Queen’s door.

  He knocked once more for good measure, just loud enough to make his presence known, then bent to place the tray on the ground. The china and silver rattled gently, rippling the soup and shifting the plate of grape tomatoes, before settling against the flagstones. The Queen preferred solitude, but she also expected supper to be served promptly at ten o’clock.

  He straightened and his eyes darted once more to the door. There! Just behind the griffin’s talon. He leaned forward to confirm. Yes, he could just make out the small rump and the long, skinny tail.

  The door slammed open.

  Morley snapped into a bow, the Queen a blur of red, black, and white. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed.

  “Is it finished?” Her voice was tired, wispy, and her words fluttered in the air like moths around a flame. “Has it spread?”

  Morley raised his head slightly and stared fixedly at the black embroidery adorning her red skirt. Has it spread? Like wildfire. Rose Haven was no more, burned to ash and dust, and haunted by the ghosts. The city hissed the fate of the traitors beneath dark eaves and in seedy taverns. The courtiers murmured behind painted faces and gilded fans. And when whispers of the fiery drag
on wreaking death and destruction, leaving no survivors, finally reached Morley’s ears, he knew it to be finished. The dragon did its job well.

  He made sure to keep his voice level as he answered. “The entire country now understands what happens to those who oppose Your Majesty. The tale was carried by the witness of a tinker, or so I understand,”

  “And Huru?” She bit the name and it snapped in her mouth.

  Morley straightened just a bit more. “No word.”

  “Our men remain under his command?”

  Morley’s throat dried and he nodded.

  “I see.” The skirt moved out of his line of sight, leaving the door wide open.

  Understanding the unspoken order, Morley retrieved the tray and slipped into the Queen’s room.

  When she was younger, and happier, she had resided in the royal apartments on the third floor. Morley remembered games and laughter. He remembered chasing the young princess down the hall, catching her in his arms, and lifting her onto his shoulders. He remembered the Queen standing at the window with one hand on her belly and the other caressing her King’s cheek. He remembered how fond she was of her people. And most of all, he remembered the kindness of those days.

  That was then, in the Before.

  He placed the tray on the blackened surface of the table and stepped back, surveying the small, cramped quarters of the tower room. It was meticulously neat and clean, but a far cry from the majestic rooms downstairs. The circular space held a small, canopied bed, a table and two chairs, a wardrobe, and a locked trunk. The one and only window opened onto a balcony barely big enough to fit two people.

  It was closer, the Queen had insisted when she moved in. And she needed to be closer.

  No one had asked closer to what.

  “Morley?”

  His heart ached at the sound of her voice. “Yes, my Queen?”

  She stood at the window, gazing out over the city. She used to wear her hair loose and soft, piled on top of her head or cascading down her back. The honeyed waves were a magnificent compliment to the golden crown balanced on her brow. She still wore the crown, but the hair was scraped away from her face and held captive in a bun at the nape of her neck. A black snood ensured that the strands stayed in place. It was too severe for Morley’s Queen. It made her older, harsher, more . . . hateful.