Voices of Dragons

10

“Kay, honey. Wake up.”

Someone shook her shoulder.

Kay sat up, bleary eyed, and brushed hair out of her face. Her mother kneeled beside the sofa. The TV was still humming with the same footage and text scrolls as earlier in the evening.

“What’s wrong?” Kay said. Suddenly anxious, she knew that something had to be wrong.

“Nothing, everything’s okay. I just thought you’d be more comfortable in your bed.”

“Yeah, I guess. Is Dad okay?”

Mom actually smiled. “He’s fine. He’s on his way home. Everything’s fine. Nothing’s happened so far.”

“I saw you on the news.”

She rolled her eyes. “They didn’t even let me run a brush through my hair.”

“You looked fine. You sounded good.”

“You, on the other hand, look beat. Did you eat something?”

“Yeah, some pizza,” Kay mumbled. She didn’t say anything about Jon coming over.

“Good. Get to bed, all right?”

Kay must have looked exhausted for her mother to comment. But she couldn’t exactly say, Well, of course I’m tired—I rode a dragon and dodged the air force today.

Strangely enough, once she’d made it to bed and under the covers, she couldn’t sleep at all. Her father arrived home shortly after, and sounds of conversation from the kitchen distracted her. She couldn’t make out what her parents were saying, but their tones were serious. There were pots and pans and kitchen noises, probably them eating something, then footsteps down the hall, their bedroom door closing, then silence. Kay rolled over and looked at her clock. Two A.M.

She stared at the ceiling. Wondered if dragons slept.

Over the next few days, statements from the air force confirmed that the fighter was on a routine patrol when an electrical malfunction caused the pilot to veer off course and lose control completely. All planes of that type, the F-16, were now being examined to ensure that the malfunction didn’t repeat. The pilot was praised for doing everything he could to keep the plane out of Dragon and for minimizing his own presence in dragon territory. Incursions by firefighting helicopters had been necessary to douse flames started by jet fuel, but once again it was hoped the dragons would understand and not take offense. The president even made a speech about peaceful coexistence and understanding and all the same lines that presidents had always gone on about. It sounded rote. How could there be peaceful coexistence when everyone was so scared? When the two sides never even talked?

They had a drill at school that week. When the alarm went off, a couple of people screamed—short, shrill, panicked—because it could have been real. Nobody joked, nobody talked as they found their places in the hall and huddled, waiting for an attack. Even the teachers, most of whom usually looked bored or annoyed during drills, seemed pale, nervous. The vice principal kept glancing out the front-door windows—against the rules, but Kay couldn’t blame him. The front doors looked north.

After that night of eating pizza, watching the news, and kissing Jon, something felt different to Kay. She felt closer to him, but more uncertain, too. They never talked about it directly. Kay couldn’t be sure how close they’d really come to going further, physically. “We’re taking it slow. It’s okay. It’s totally okay,” Jon kept saying, as if he had to emphasize it, afraid that she was actually nervous—when he was the one who sounded more nervous, like he was trying to convince himself. She used to be able to tell what he was trying to say. But now, was he trying to say it was okay that they were going slow, or did he really did want to go further?

On the other hand, Tam didn’t have any doubt. They were in the bathroom when Kay told her what had happened. She hadn’t meant to. She started by talking about the day of the plane crash.

“What were you doing out driving around?” Tam asked. Just like Kay’s Dad.

“I just was. I’d been hiking.”

“And your dad caught you? Oh my God, how pissed off was he?”

She shrugged. “I think he was too busy. He just sent me home. He and my mom didn’t get home ’til like midnight.”

“So you had all night to think of an excuse.”

“Sort of. I mainly just watched the news with Jon.”

A pause. Kay wished she could see Tam, but Tam was still in the stall. “Jon came over?”

Kay hesitated, because she knew she’d walked into a trap and Tam was about to pounce on her. “Yeah—”

“Wait a minute,” Tam said, throwing the door to the stall open as the toilet flushed behind her. “You and Jon were home alone, your parents were gone, you were together on the sofa, and you didn’t do it?”

“No.” Kay pouted, defensive. “It was kind of in the middle of an international crisis. Not exactly the right kind of mood.” Except for all that kissing they’d done…

“What better time?” Tam glared while she washed her hands. “I swear, there’s going to be a big war and you’re going to die a virgin. Then how will you feel?”

“A lot like I do now, I bet,” Kay said.

“Which is?”

“Annoyed.”

“There, you see?”

Kay let the subject drop by not commenting. Jon didn’t seem to mind, and that was the important thing. This was about the two of them and no one else. At least, she didn’t think Jon minded. He’d have said something, wouldn’t he? Wasn’t it normal for guys to want to sleep with their girlfriends? She was the crazy one, according to Tam.

Arguing with Tam over whether or not to have sex was bad enough. If she and Jon started arguing about it…Maybe it would be just as well if the situation never changed at all.

That Saturday, Jon called Kay in the morning and asked if she wanted to go climbing. “I have to get out of the house,” he said. “Away from all this news.”

She knew the feeling. Her mother had been interviewed again about Dragon and the border, along with historians discussing old newsreel footage and commentators agitating either for peace or for an invasion to take back the territory with all its valuable oil reserves and mines. “How dangerous can the dragons be?” reporters kept asking, referring to the old films from when the Silver River Treaty was negotiated. They could fly; they could burn entire towns with their fire. But they’d taken people by surprise last time. This time, we knew what they could do, we’d be ready for them. That’s what people were saying, and the talk made Kay nervous. She didn’t want to find out how dangerous the dragons could be.

Jon picked her up, and they went to a favorite spot south of town, an established sport climbing rock with permanent anchors—and well away from the border, thankfully. Driving, they talked about nothing in particular. School gossip, summer job prospects—both of them had worked for a rafting company the summer before and were debating about returning. College, the future. It seemed so vague, especially when all Kay could really think about was whether Artegal was okay. Whether Captain Conner had told anyone about them.

Then, fortunately, there was the climb, and that took all of her focus. Other problems slipped away.

It seemed strange to be using her climbing gear for actual climbing. In fact, she was seriously out of practice. Her hands cramped, and her calluses had faded. It was like learning to do this all over again. Jon had to talk her through tough spots once or twice. In terms of excitement, rock climbing left something to be desired after you’d flown on the back of a dragon. Maybe her mind wasn’t on the climb after all.

It was nice to be outside: The day was unusually warm, with a blazing sun heating the crisp winter air and making the snow on the trees sparkle. She wore sweats and a T-shirt, and was sweating from exertion. The warmth felt good.

When a jet raced overhead, roaring and leaving a contrail behind it, they paused, watching it. It moved parallel to the border—just a patrol. Nothing unusual.

Kay still had to swallow her heart out of her throat.

Jon was on the ground below her, holding her belay line while she clung to the craggy rock face, resting a moment. Finally, looking at him, she called, “I’m coming down,” because her limbs were shaking and she didn’t want to keep going. Kay braced on her feet and sat in her harness while rappelling down with Jon’s help. On the ground, she absently brushed chalk off her hands. Jon was still looking up, where the jet’s contrail was dissipating.

“Have your parents heard anything?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “It’s all just wait and see.”

“Even if they did attack the town,” Jon said, “it’s not like we’re all going to die. We can run. We can hide out, fight back. That’s what people did in the Middle Ages before the dragons disappeared, right?”

So, neither of them was really thinking about climbing. She’d gone almost a half an hour without thinking about the dragons and what could happen, and in a moment Jon had come up with the worst case scenario.

“Can we talk about something else?” She untied the rope from her harness and handed it to Jon for his turn up the rock face.

“Sorry. It’s just kind of hard not thinking about it, you know?”

Kay didn’t want to fight the dragons. She didn’t want to see those old films come to life, with the fires, bombs, and crowds of people running in fear. It would mean never talking with Artegal again, never flying again. She didn’t want to have to be afraid of him. But it was like her mother kept saying—they didn’t really know anything about the dragons. Could Kay say she knew anything about dragons, or just Artegal?

“What if we could talk to them? I keep thinking we ought to find a way to talk to them.” She was blushing. Talking around the issue, so close to blurting out what she’d been doing.

“But how?” he said.

“I don’t know. Maybe someone should just…walk across the border.” She’d never been so close to telling anyone.

Jon shook his head. “Somebody would shoot you. Or eat you.”

If she could trust anyone with the secret, it would be Jon. He wouldn’t tell anyone, she was sure. But she wasn’t sure how he would react. He certainly wouldn’t be happy. But he might not be curious, either. He might freak out, and he might tell someone—for Kay’s own good, to protect her. He’d tell someone for all the right reasons.

“I don’t think there’s going to be a war,” she said.

“Why not? Does your mom know something?”

“No, I just think it would be too weird.”

“Yeah, it would,” he said. “Hey, can you hand me a little chalk? I think I’m out.”

She scooped a handful and handed it to him. She rubbed the chalk on his hand, and he squeezed her fingers before pulling away.

Hooking the belay to her harness, she anchored for him, studying him as he knotted the other end of the rope to his harness and started his climb. The muscles of his arms flexed under his T-shirt, his strong fingers keeping a sure grip on the rock. His skin shone with sweat, and his face flushed with the effort. His smile was wry. He looked really good. She was lucky, dating one of the best-looking guys at school. Lucky to be dating someone who thought it was cool to go rock climbing on a warm winter day.

Silver River settled back to normal, mostly. Most of the news vans and crews that had arrived to cover the situation packed up and left. The sense of relief was plain—people tended to smile a little too big, laugh a little too hard, for the next week or so. A few more cynical people said that the dragons were just biding their time, lulling the town into a false sense of security, and that the air force ought to bomb them first, before it was too late. Everyone else felt like they’d avoided a disaster. They could still see dragons flying around the mountaintops, far to the north.

She counted down the days to the next meeting with Artegal. She was grateful that she hadn’t been grounded or had her driver’s license confiscated after her run-in with her father. This time, she carefully constructed her story of going hiking. Asked permission in advance. Promised not to shut off her cell phone. Promised to keep an eye skyward and come home at the first sign of trouble. That said something, if her mother was still worried about trouble.

Alibi in place, she raced to the trailhead and the usual meeting place.

There was a chance he wouldn’t be there. She had no idea how the crash and its aftermath had played out on his side of the border. That was part of why she was so anxious to talk to him. What had the dragons really thought of it all? The pundits on the news shows could only speculate.

The creek was mostly frozen. Icicles, lattices, and sprays lined the bottom of the log bridge. On this sunny day, the whole scene sparkled like diamonds. Kay crossed the bridge, then paced to keep warm, bundled up in her parka, hands in her pockets.

If he didn’t show, she couldn’t even leave him a note, on the chance someone might find it. If he didn’t meet her, maybe that would be for the best. Maybe they’d both be safer if he stayed away and they never met again. But then she’d always wonder. She’d always worry that he’d been grounded, whatever dragons did to ground someone. But her heart ached at the thought of never flying again, of feeling the high wind scouring her face, and of looking down on the world as if it were a map.

She heard a brushing sound, like a branch dragged across soft earth. The creak of trees, like in a wind—but there wasn’t any wind. It was a dragon moving on foot through a forest.

Then Artegal appeared, his head leading, snaking forward on his long neck, arms and wings pulling him along. She had almost forgotten how bright his scales were, the way the mottled sunlight played off them, the way they shimmered in light and shadow, like sunlight on the ice. Her heart raced in fear at the sight of him all over again.

He saw her, blinked, and sighed, a noise like a growl. “You came.”

Her smile was thin. “So did you. I guess that means things aren’t so bad?”

“Elders understand. An accident, not an invasion.” He rumbled a growl, qualifying the statement. “Was a long argument, though.”

“Did you tell them? Did you talk to them about what happened?”

He settled on his haunches, pulling his wings close, and his lids grew heavy. Almost like a wince, Kay thought. Like he was trying to decide what to say. “I wasn’t there. Not old enough.”

“So you couldn’t—” She stopped herself. She couldn’t expect Artegal to have an influence on the dragon elders any more than she could influence her own government.

“I did what I could,” he said, fog curling from his nostrils as he sighed. “And you? Did the pilot tell?”

“No,” she said. “No one’s said anything about it.”

He grumbled, in either agreement or relief, or was simply sighing again. He looked at her, looked at the sky. “What now?”

She knew what was probably the safest thing to do—stop doing this. Stop meeting at all. Hope nothing more happened. But that didn’t feel like the right thing to do. “My mom works for border enforcement, and the thing that frustrated her most is that we didn’t have a way to talk to you guys, to explain what happened. She thought if we could just explain, everything would be all right. Instead, we sat around waiting for something bad to happen, for you to attack. If something like this happens again, we can keep talking. You and me. We have to.”

The lip curled, scales flashing. “Agreed.” Then he purred. “And the flying?”

She’d been thinking about that far too much. Because she was pretty sure she had the same gleam in her eyes that he had in his. “I don’t see how we can get away with that again. I don’t know how we got away with it before.”

“You don’t want to,” he said.

“No, I do,” she said quickly. But the consequences. It wasn’t the falling off, the getting in trouble, the lying she was having to do to keep this secret. This was so much more than staying out after curfew or getting pulled over by her sheriff father. This involved the rest of the world. “But if we got caught…I’m not sure people would understand. That we’re—”

“That we’re friends?”

She scuffed her feet in the dirt and looked up to the bright blue sky, wanting to go back there. There was still so much she hadn’t seen. But she didn’t know what she was getting into.

“My mentor would understand,” Artegal said. “Others will, too. So we should practice. In case.”

“In case?”

“In case we’re needed.”

She couldn’t imagine when that would be or what it would entail. But she remembered the first few times she went climbing, how she didn’t make any progress at all, and how her hands and arms hurt so much, she cried. But she’d practiced, until it came naturally. Artegal was right. They had to practice, if for no other reason than they may need this someday.

That was a good excuse, anyway. Really, she just couldn’t wait to fly with the dragon again.