Chapter 12
- Morgan -
The thing surfaces again. For a moment I only see a dark shape rolling through the muddy water beyond the island.
Then lightning flashes across the sky and illuminates the river in stark white.
My stomach tightens. The creature is enormous.
Its back breaks the surface first, covered in ridges that look more like jagged rocks than scales.
The body beneath them stretches far longer than I expected.
By the time the tail appears, the head has already vanished beneath the water again.
The river carries trees. This thing looks capable of carrying the river.
Beside me, Vyrathion's posture changes. Most people wouldn't notice. I only do because I've spent enough time around him to recognize the difference between relaxed arrogance and attentive arrogance.
"Tell me that's normal," I say.
"It is completely normal. Every revolting thing is normal in this jungle.”
I glance up at him. "You looked at it."
"I’ll look at it as long as I please. There’s not much else to look at."
"You’re looking with concern."
He chuckles, a sound like icy water running over big silver bells. "I am physically incapable of concern. That’s how far beneath me I find such an emotion."
The creature surfaces again. This time it's closer.
The head emerges first, pushing through the floodwaters with disturbing ease.
It resembles a crocodile if a crocodile had been designed by someone who felt ordinary crocodiles lacked ambition.
The snout alone is longer than I am tall.
Dark eyes protrude above the waterline, fixed directly on our island.
And on us. The river boils around its body as it turns.
"Oh," I say, pushing into him.
"If you insist,” the dragon rumbles.
For several moments nobody moves. Rain drums against the leaves overhead. Thunder rolls somewhere beyond the jungle. Clyde abandons his leaf arrangement and scurries behind my legs. I don't blame him.
The monster begins circling the island. It never fully leaves the surface. Every few seconds another section of its body appears through the muddy water before slipping beneath again.
It moves with patient confidence, as though it has already decided we're trapped and sees no reason to hurry.
The worst part is that it might be right. The river has become impossible. Water crashes around the island from every direction. Entire trees spin past in the current. Even if the monster wasn't there, I wouldn't voluntarily enter that flood again.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. "We're stuck."
"Temporarily, perhaps." The dragon continues watching the creature. His voice remains calm, though his eyes never leave the water. "Everything is temporary."
"Some things are more temporary than others. Like this island." As if on cue, another chunk of dirt drops into the churning water.
“We shall enjoy this island while it’s here,” the dragon says. “I use the word ‘enjoy’ in the loosest possible sense, of course. No actual enjoyment is taking place.”
Lightning flashes again. The creature has completed half a circle around the island.
I follow it with my eyes. "Can you kill it?"
Vyrathion seems genuinely surprised. "Of course I can kill it."
"Will you do it?"
"If and when it becomes worth the effort. Now kindly cease your questions. It’s unbecoming of a servant to ask about things.”
The monster surfaces near the edge of the island, closer than before.
Its head rises several feet above the waterline while muddy currents rush around its neck.
A long tongue flicks through the rain. The thing is looking at us.
Not generally in our direction, but right at us, like a hunter examining prey.
The realization sends a cold sensation down my spine that has nothing to do with being soaked.
Clyde presses against my ankle.
Vyrathion sighs. The sound contains all the exasperation of a man interrupted while reading the sports pages. "I was hoping it would display better judgment."
The creature suddenly lunges. Water explodes upward. The enormous head surges toward the bank, jaws opening wide enough to swallow a horse. Mud and roots fly through the air as the island shudders beneath the impact.
I stumble backward. Before I can fully react, Vyrathion is already moving.
He crosses the distance in a blur. One moment he's standing beside me. The next he's on the riverbank.
The creature snaps at him in a flash of a hundred teeth the size of my thumbs. Vyrathion catches the upper jaw with one hand.
For an instant everything seems to freeze. The river continues roaring. The rain continues falling. Yet the monster's charge simply stops.
The creature thrashes violently and its tail smashes through the water. Waves crash against the island. Trees spin past in the current.
And yet, Vyrathion doesn't move. He plants his feet in the mud and glares directly into the monster's eyes. "You've made a very poor decision."
The creature roars. The dragon roars back. I don't think I've ever heard him raise his voice like that before. The sound cuts through the storm, and I know that no human throat could make a noise like that.
For a brief second the jungle itself seems to go silent, and even the rain stops hissing.
Then Vyrathion twists. The monster's head slams sideways into the river hard enough to throw up a wall of muddy water. The entire creature disappears beneath the surface. Several enormous shapes roll through the flood. Then nothing remains except churning currents.
Vyrathion brushes mud from one sleeve. "Well. That was disappointing."
I stare at the river. "Is it dead?"
"I doubt it. It’s a tough thing and I didn’t actually try to kill it. "
I like that answer more than if he had tried to kill it. There’s more strength in letting that monster live, when Vyrathion could clearly have killed it. "Will it try again?"
He shrugs. "Why are you asking me about the intentions of these grotesquely inferior creatures? How can I possibly know? And now I shall entertain no more questions."
A minute passes. Then another. The creature doesn't reappear. Rain continues hammering the island. Water continues rising, and still the whole scene manages to feel almost serene.
Eventually I let out a slow breath. "Please tell me that's the end of it."
Vyrathion follows the current downstream with his eyes. “I suspect it's intelligent enough to reconsider. Unfortunately, intelligent enemies tend to become more dangerous after they begin reconsidering."
I groan. The dragon looks around the island, taking stock of the mud, the rain and the steadily shrinking dry ground. For the first time since we arrived, his expression shifts from irritation to reluctant acceptance.
"We require shelter. Well, you do."
I blink. "You know how to build shelter?"
Vyrathion's face takes on the look of a man who has just been deeply insulted. "No! Of course not! Despite this shamefully pitiful body, I am in fact a dragon. I don’t build! I don’t make!
I take what others have made or I command them to make what I need or desire in any particular moment! Never suggest anything else."
I pull back a couple of steps. He’s so easy to make furious! “All right. Sorry. I won’t ask anything else.”
He brushes a leaf off his pants. “See to it that you don’t.” He fixes his silver eyes on me and manages to make them fiery. “And if you ever tell anyone else about this, for as long as you live, I shall murder you with great force and greater relish.”
“I won’t,” I squeak, panic welling up in me.
Then he marches toward the trees as though construction has always been one of his many talents. I watch him go, not sure how to feel. Somehow he worries me almost as much as the monster.
Vyrathion marches into the trees with the determined stride of a man who has never failed at anything in his life and has no intention of beginning now.
I watch him go through the curtain of rain while the river continues roaring around the island. The storm has settled into something relentless. Water drips from every branch, every leaf and every exposed root. The air feels heavy enough to drink.
Clyde settles beside me beneath the broadest tree we could find and folds himself into a compact little bundle. Together we watch the dragon approach a young tree with an expression that suggests he's preparing to negotiate terms of surrender.
The tree appears unwilling to negotiate. For several moments Vyrathion simply studies it. He circles it once, places both hands on the trunk and pulls. Nothing happens. The tree remains exactly where it has always been.
A second attempt produces slightly more movement, though most of it comes from Vyrathion sliding through the mud. I quickly discover that watching a dragon lose an argument with a tree is surprisingly entertaining.
The third attempt ends differently. Roots tear loose beneath the ground with a wet ripping sound and the entire tree suddenly comes free. Mud sprays in every direction.
Vyrathion straightens, examines his victory and then tosses the unfortunate plant aside. "Too small," he announces.
I nod solemnly. "Oh yes, far too small."
The dragon immediately moves on to another target.
This one is considerably larger. He studies it from several angles, muttering to himself while rain runs down his face and through his golden hair.
I can't hear every word over the storm, though I catch fragments about incompetence, disgrace, deliberately hostile terrain and the collapse of civilized standards and everything worth keeping..
Eventually he wraps both arms around the trunk and attempts to bend it. The tree refuses. Vyrathion becomes furious. The tree continues existing.
By the time a loud crack finally echoes across the island, I have become strangely invested in the outcome. The upper half of the tree breaks loose and crashes through the surrounding vegetation.
"There," Vyrathion says with satisfaction.
"It’s perfect!" I call to him, wanting to encourage. “Well done.”