Chapter 7 A Dragon Calamity
A Dragon Calamity
Nyree stepped outside during a quiet moment, enjoying the whiff of sea air and the faint underlying pong of penguin droppings. With one eye on the open shop door, she scanned her surroundings, searching for Tāwera.
A burst of screams and whoops had her gaze snapping toward the beach.
A wave, larger than usual, crashed to shore, causing pandemonium amongst the seals and wooly brown king penguin chicks who’d congregated on the beach.
Squawks and the peep-peep of panicked chicks filled the air while the seals grunted and barked in alarm when the wave washed them off their sunning rocks.
Excited voices filled the air, and Nyree locked the door and bolted toward the beach.
She met Keith and Carolyn and two of the scientists.
“What’s happening? Is everyone all right?” Nyree gasped out.
“It was a rogue wave,” Doug, a scientist, said. His dark hair stuck up as if he’d forgotten to comb it this morning.
“Should we be evacuating the beach?” Carolyn asked. “What if it’s a tsunami?”
“I checked,” Roger, the other portly scientist, said. “No earthquake reports anywhere.”
Each of them eyed the beach and the sea. The cruise ship crew also scanned for more waves, having suspended their operations as a precaution.
Nyree didn’t see Tāwera, which worried her a little.
No, he was an intelligent adult, despite his lack of modern life knowledge.
A roar interrupted her thoughts.
“What is that?” Carolyn asked. “Is it another wave?”
“The sea is flat,” Doug replied, his hand disordering his hair as he tugged at his fringe.
“Look,” Keith said, shock making his voice shake.
Nyree stared at the cruise ship anchored offshore. Flames shot from the rear deck, and another roar echoed through the bay. She swallowed.
So that was where Tāwera had gone.
“Where are the flames coming from?” a blonde in charge of an inflatable asked. She plucked a radio off her belt and called the ship.
“Are they all right?” Keith asked her.
“No injuries. The captain says something is blocking the rear deck exit, but he can’t work out why the door refuses to open.
The ship isn’t on fire.” She shook her head as she relayed her conversation to a colleague.
“The captain says the fire doesn’t seem dangerous.
It’s not burning anything. It’s a mystery. ”
Nyree might have an inkling as to the cause. At least Tāwera wasn’t damaging the ship, but the roar had been one of pain. She hesitated, wavering over what to do.
The blonde woman’s radio crackled to life. “We have the flames under control, and there’s no damage. The crew has investigated outside and doesn’t know what caused the noise or the fire. Captain reports we can resume operations.”
Nyree slumped for an instant before straightening. “I’d better reopen the shop. Let me know if there are any more problems or if I need to shut.”
Carolyn patted her arm. “Will do.”
Nyree strode toward the shop, searching the vicinity as she returned to work. “Tāwera, what are you doing?” she muttered. “You’d better not be causing trouble.”
Tāwera inhaled and pushed the breath back out, repeating this several times to slow the race of his thudding heart.
He had to move out of the way before the humans became more upset.
Another growl struggled for freedom, but he swallowed it down and crawled away from the doorway.
Each move produced new darts of pain to poke at his muscles.
He’d never suffered such as this with his energy sapped and every muscle on fire.
The instant he moved, humans burst outside. They wore uniforms and concerned expressions. Tāwera wanted to growl again while his throat tickled with the beginnings of flames. He dragged in a deep breath and scrambled away from two men examining the railings and the floor.
He tried to shift to his human form, but his bobbling and fractured mind mucked up his concentration. Heat built in his throat until his flames burned for release. He used his energy to scramble to his feet and directed the fire into the air.
The two men shouted, their bodies jolting in surprise.
They rushed toward him, and one stood on his tail.
Distress rocketed through him, and a roar of agony escaped.
Flames chased his cry up his throat. The human fell off-balance and toppled on his butt.
He released a shout of his own while the other man scrambled backward.
He bumped into Tāwera and let out a muffled oomph.
“What the hell was that?” the first man asked.
The second man rubbed his wide eyes. “No idea. I’d swear I walked into a wall.”
“I tripped on something.” He scowled at the deck while Tāwera tried to distance himself and drag his abused body farther away. The tickling in his throat resumed, and he gave an involuntary hiccup. A spark sizzled in the air before vanishing.
“Did you see that?”
The two men exchanged a glance, and the other one nodded.
“What is it?” the first man whispered.
“I don’t know, but I hope it doesn’t set our ship on fire.” He rubbed at his eyes and blinked. “It’s kinda hard to take action when we can’t see what to fix.”
“Yeah.”
Tāwera needed to find a safe place to rest and let his body heal. He forced his torso upward and scanned the deck for a place safe from clumsy humans. If he stopped spurting fire, he could get inside and search out a peaceful spot in which to recover.
His taniwha wasn’t right.
Whether it was the curse or the lack of flying, he didn’t know, but staying here with vulnerable humans might mean injuries. None of this was their fault.
A door opened behind him, and Tāwera propelled his body across the deck and through the gap before he second thought the idea. He bowled over the woman who tried to come through, and the two male humans raced over to help her to her feet.
Sorry. Regret filled Tāwera at her pained shout. He hiccupped twice, his eyes widening at the sparks that shot toward the curtains. Hands. Hands. He needed hands.
Panic filled him as he struggled to visualize his human form.
Holes burned in the fabric, and a glow formed around the edges.
He smelled smoke, and his panic increased.
Don’t set the boat on fire. His sailor had feared fire, carrying the scars of a sea mishap when the ship he’d traveled on had burned and sunk.
Concentrate.
Nyree counted on him. No, confusion mired his mind. He relied on Nyree. Yes, that was what he meant.
Some of his panic faded, the tension leaching from his muscles. He wanted to get to know Nyree better because she was an intriguing woman. Nyree’s form slid into his mind readily enough, not even the shouts and cries from the humans breaking the mental vision of her loveliness.
A human woman rushed toward him and threw her drink at the curtain.
Tāwera didn’t know what was in the drink, but it worsened the situation. The smoldering fabric burst into flames. He gasped. His elbows pressed into his sides while he blinked rapidly.
Shift. Shift. Shift.
He tried to picture his two-legged form to start his transformation, but that didn’t work. He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to block out the fire, the humans, the acrid smoke. Focus! If he couldn’t hold his form in his mind, what if he imagined Nyree with him standing beside her?
His muscles tightened as his tension grew.
Another human stood on his tail, and he choked back his tortured cry.
Instead, he curled in a tight ball and focused on Nyree.
Once he had her fixed in his mind, he concentrated on adding himself to the picture.
Lightheaded elation filled him as this plan worked.
He attached to the mental vision and willed his taniwha body to change.
As with his shift from human to dragon, the transformation was labored.
But it worked.
His legs refused to hold his weight, and he toppled on his arse, but he didn’t care. He’d shifted to taniwha and back to his human form.
Success.
“Did you hear that?” a woman whispered.
Tāwera lifted his head, more alert now. Every human in the large room—he was uncertain of the cabin’s purpose—stared in his direction, but they didn’t see him.
He pushed to his feet and stayed upright, despite his trembling knees.
At least the pain had subsided once he’d morphed back to two legs.
It didn’t hurt to breathe now. Each even inhalation filled his nostrils with sea air and helped his ruffle thoughts to settle.
Nyree had suggested he experiment. Right now, he wanted to learn if his shift to dragon and back had changed anything else apart from his pain levels.
Could these people see him? He scanned the room’s occupants and approached the smaller group who stood closer to an open doorway.
He required an escape route in case the humans panicked.
Tāwera sidled nearer, curious since they chattered like a morning chorus of birds.
They spoke the French language, but he had difficulty understanding every word.
They used their hands in tiny gestures, their faces expressive as they burst into laughter.
Tāwera cleared his throat and yanked a few French words from his rusty mind. “Bonjour.”
The laughter cut off, leaving the room strangely silent.
Tāwera spoke again. “Good morning. How are you today?”
“Was that you, Georges?” a woman asked in a hushed voice. Her eyes were so wide, Tāwera wondered if they might pop out and roll across the smooth wooden floor.
“Not I,” a gangly man said and tugged his right ear.
“Can you hear me?” Tāwera asked, impatient with their astonishment. Why didn’t they answer?
“Y-yes,” one young woman replied. Her face had turned so pale dozens of golden spots on her nose and cheeks became stark and visible.
“What is your name?” Tāwera asked, directing his question to the lady with the face dots.
“J-Julia?” Her name emerged as a question rather than a statement. “Are you playing a joke on us?”