Chapter 7
- Morgan -
The sight of Praxigor vanishes almost immediately behind the canopy, but that doesn't make me feel any better.
For a few seconds I keep staring upward anyway, searching for another glimpse of blue wings through the leaves. I don't find one. The jungle swallows him completely.
Beside me, Vyrathion watches the sky with narrowed eyes.
"Is he following us?" I ask.
"That would imply interest," Vyrathion replies. "Of late, Praxigor rarely displays any."
I glance at him. "You don't sound very fond of him."
"I've never met Praxigor. You’d know if I had, because he would be dead."
"Then how do you know what he's like?"
The dragon snorts and resumes walking. "We’re both old. I know of him, as I do most dragons. And they know of me."
That answer somehow makes sense to him. I’m not sure it makes sense to me, but he is an alien.
I hurry after him as the jungle grows darker around us.
The sun is dropping quickly now, turning the patches of visible sky orange and red.
The air feels heavier than before, and the noises of the jungle are changing.
Daytime creatures are growing quiet while other sounds are taking their place.
Somewhere nearby, something lets out a long, mournful howl. I immediately move a little closer to Vyrathion.
He notices. "You assume I will protect you."
"You keep doing it."
"Protecting my servant? Would you prefer if I didn’t?"
I bend to adjust my sandals. "No, keep doing that. Um. I’m not sure I’m your servant, exactly. But okay."
He fixes me with a gaze that I can’t quite meet. "You’re free to go back to your tribe at any time you may choose. I’m sure they’ll be ecstatic to see you."
"That’s actually not my tribe. Well, not in every sense."
He glances at me. “A tribe-less woman in the jungle. But without the means to protect herself, having to seek the proximity of a dragon. For safety. It’s like a bad riddle.”
I straighten up. “It feels that way to me, too. Sometimes.”
Behind us, I hear a rustling sound. When I look back, the little Plood is still following. The strange creature waddles determinedly through the undergrowth, his uneven gait making the effort look twice as difficult as it should be.
"You know," I say, "he's doing surprisingly well."
"He is doing surprisingly badly," Vyrathion replies. "He should have given up hours ago. If he had any sense."
The Plood trips over a root, disappears briefly into a fern, then pops back up and continues after us.
I can't help smiling. "See? He’s determined."
"Defective, I think is the word you mean."
I shrug. "He can be both. That’s how good he is."
Vyrathion mutters something under his breath that sounds deeply insulting.
The little Plood finally catches up and stops beside me. He raises both hands and proudly presents a collection of bright yellow leaves.
I accept them with as much seriousness as I can manage. "Thank you. Not really what we need, but you’ll get there."
The little creature visibly brightens, and I sense the telepathic wave of joy from him.
Vyrathion folds his arms. "I notice he continues bringing tribute to the wrong person."
"He probably thinks that I’m helping you. Saves him from having his offerings kicked out of his hands."
"In that, at least, he’s not wrong. You are helping."
The admission surprises me enough that I turn around.
Vyrathion glares up at the treetops in the direction Praxigor went, then notices I’m staring.
"What now? More questions, I assume?"
I give him a tight smile. "You just admitted I was helping."
"Yes, I said you were helping the Plood search for gold."
"That's still helping you."
He studies his claws on one hand. "Which would seem to be a low bar for a servant to pass. The absolute minimum, some would say."
The jungle continues darkening around us.
“Can we stay here?” I ask. “I don’t want to walk in the dark. And I need a rest.”
“More rest?” Vyrathion says, exasperated. “Resting is all you ever do!”
“I can’t go on as fast as you can. Sorry.”
“Oh, very well,” he growls. Then he walks right into the jungle and vanishes in the thick greenery.
Damn. Did he decide to go on without me?
I stand there indecisively for a while. The jungle suddenly seems much closer, more threatening.
The trees become difficult to see more than a short distance through, and the shadows beneath them deepen into pools of blackness and movement.
The atmosphere changes with the light. Everything feels more dangerous.
The little Plood presses closer to my side. I can't really blame him. If I had someone to press into, I would absolutely be doing that, too. Say, a dragon of some description.
Then I hear something moving through the brush off to our left. The sound is heavy and deliberate.
A second noise comes from the opposite side. Then another.
The hairs rise on the back of my neck as I back into a thick tree trunk. "Yeah, this is not the time."
“The time for what?” says a smooth voice into my ear.
I squeal and jump with surprise. Two eyes are peering down on me from a dark face.
“Vyrathion! You scared me.”
“That scared you? But being alone in the jungle with only a dragon for company doesn’t? You are the strangest female ever to draw breath.”
I peer into the jungle. “Did you make those noises?”
Vyrathion sighs. “Oh my gold. Don’t tell me you have attracted more of these things? I was hoping they would choose someone else."
There’s another noise from the jungle, and I reach behind me to grab his hand. "Who?"
His hand is warm in mine, but he doesn’t squeeze. “Ah. Hmm. This is new.”
I half turn. “Oh, sorry.” I pull my hand out of his. “Who should choose someone else?”
“That thing there.” He points casually toward the darkness ahead. “And those.”
Three pairs of glowing eyes stare back at us from between the trees. A fourth pair appears moments later. The creatures remain motionless, watching.
My stomach drops. "Shit."
Vyrathion tilts his head to the side. "While I don’t approve of the word choice, I’m inclined to agree.”
The glowing eyes remain where they are. I count four sets at first, then realize there are more. Every time I focus on one patch of darkness, another pair appears somewhere else. They drift between the trees without sound, circling us.
The little Plood presses against my leg hard enough that I nearly lose my balance.
"What are they?" I ask quietly.
Vyrathion studies the jungle with mild interest. "Something with excellent instincts."
"Meaning?"
"They've noticed I'm here and haven't attacked. They must sense how dangerous that would be for them."
That isn't nearly as reassuring as he seems to think it is. One of the creatures finally steps forward. Moonlight catches gray scales and a long narrow snout. It's smaller than the raptor from earlier, though not by much. Its body is lean and muscular, built for speed rather than power.
Then another emerges. And another. The pack is surrounding us.
I swallow. "They're hunting."
Vyrathion sighs. "Everything here is always hunting. It’s remarkably tedious."
"That's not helping."
"I wasn't trying to help, Morgan the servant female. I’m not a helper. And despite your claims to the contrary, neither are you."
The nearest predator lowers its head. The others spread wider through the trees. For several seconds nothing happens.
Then the little Plood unexpectedly marches three steps forward and waves one tiny arm at the dinosaurs.
I stare. The dinosaurs stare. Even Vyrathion stares.
The little Plood stares at the dinos.
One of the predators blinks.
"I believe," Vyrathion says with disbelief, "that your servant is attempting to defend us."
"My servant?"
"He’s plainly a servant. His entire species is nothing but. You acquired him and had him follow you. Therefore he must be yours."
The little Plood stands still.
The lead predator also doesn’t move.
I look from the dinosaur to the Plood and back again. "Is it working?"
"Yes and no," Vyrathion says. "They're mostly confused."
The dragon folds his arms and watches the standoff continue. His complete lack of concern would be comforting if I didn't know exactly how dangerous he is.
The predators continue circling. Eventually one of them loses patience and darts forward in a blur.
I barely register the movement before Vyrathion moves. His hand shoots out, catches the animal by the throat and lifts it completely off the ground.
The entire pack freezes, and so do I. It’s not a big dinosaur, only about the size of a calf, but it must still weigh two hundred pounds.
The captured predator kicks and twists, snapping its fearsome gape with a terrible, hard noise. Vyrathion holds it at arm's length and examines it as though inspecting an unusual insect.
The creature hisses and its tail lashes wildly.
"Hm,” he ponders as if he were reading stock market prices, “I see no gold, and it doesn’t feel like it has any.”
"Gold? Why would you think… no, I can’t imagine that thing has any gold," I state, eyeing the others with great suspicion.
"I also doubt it now. But I am desperate." He gives the animal a small shake. “Can you hear it rattle?”
The predator immediately stops struggling.
“No,” I admit. “Can you?”
“No,” the dragon says. “But I will investigate every chance. Now, go away.” He throws the dinosaur at the rest of the pack, hard. They can’t get out of the way and they all tumble backwards in a chaos of tails and fangs before they furtively stalk off.
Silence settles across the jungle.
"See?" Vyrathion says. "Excellent instincts. Well, eventually.”
I release the breath I’ve been holding. “That was tense.”
“Yes,” Vyrathion says thoughtfully. “It would have been a pleasant surprise if that thing had any gold on it. Or in it. But alas, it was not to be.”
The little Plood turns toward me and radiates smug satisfaction through the strange telepathic connection all Plood seem to share.
"You think you helped," I tell him.
The little creature sends out a telepathic wave of part confidence, part reassurance.