Draka

Some days the bullshit just keeps piling up. I was hungry. I was tired, both from flying all day and night and from not sleeping for far too long. And now I was in pain. My whole body ached, especially my right wing and my left side. This was the second time in one week that I had slammed into something at speed, and this time I hadn’t seen it coming. The wing was bleeding, too. I hoped it was only split skin and not anything worse. Then I’d fallen into the sea, been half drowned and slammed onto the rocks, and now all I wanted was to get back to my hoard and rest.

But, no. There were humans staring at me, no more than ten metres away, and I had to deal with them one way or another. I was still curled up on a large, flat rock by the cliffs that rose above the shore, and I was staring back at the four people, willing them to just go away.

No such luck. Without taking his eyes off me, the oldest of the three men leaned towards the two younger ones. In a different language than the one I’d gotten used to, one full of complicated vowels and repetitions, he told them, “Get the harpoons.”

I hated the sound of that, but I’d give them a chance. Interestingly they were not from the ethnic group that I had identified as the majority here, which Lalia and most of the villagers belonged to. These people all had that vaguely general middle-eastern look about them that reminded me of Garal. I was going to hope that they thought that I was that wyvern people had been talking about, and that they’d either leave or at least leave me alone. I was too tired, too Goddamn fed up with everything, to escalate the situation, but I did not have much energy for patience. I understood that they might be scared. If they wanted those harpoons in case I attacked, everything would be fine. But if they tried to start anything there would be consequences. The dragon was already roused and ready, and she was not happy at all. She already wanted to kill them for owning the boat that we had flown into. Taking responsibility was not in her nature, and holding back was a lot harder than usual considering all the aforementioned bullshit.

The two younger men – boys, really. The older of them couldn’t be sixteen yet – had grabbed two harpoons from some other part of the small boat. The youngest gave his to the older man, who gripped it. He looked nervous, but he also looked like he knew how to use the thing.

“If this is what I think it is, if it is,” he said, keeping his voice low and steady, “there is a full Dragon bounty on it. A full Dragon. What do you think?”

Well, shit.

“I don’t know, Uncle,” said the older of the two boys, who was holding the other harpoon. “What if we only hurt it? What if?”

“And what if you strike true, boy?” said the woman, who had picked up a long oar. “A full Dragon, think about that, think about it! We could pay our debts, patch up the roof, get you boys some new clothes, and have Eagles to spare. To spare! And what do you think that Lina girl would think about the young man who brought home a wyvern?”

So they thought that I was a wyvern. And there was a huge bounty on said wyvern, for whatever reason. Great. There went that cover.

“No sudden movements. Don’t rile it up, do not. Aim for the chest or the belly,” the older man said, readying his harpoon to throw. “Just like a seal, just like that. On three now. One–”

“Don’t even try it. Don’t try,” I growled in their language. The man aborted his count, his mouth hanging open. “If you throw those fucking things, I will make you regret it, I will.”

No point in pretending to be a dumb animal if they were going to do something stupid anyway.

“What is it?” the youngest man said with wonder.

“‘It’ can hear you,” I said, putting my feet under myself painfully. “And ‘it’ wants to be left alone. So put those harpoons away, put them away, before I do something we all will regret!”

The dragon was furious. It had wanted to kill them before they threatened us, and now I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold back. They were close. I might even be able to reach them with my venom. I could almost taste them, and I was so hungry.

I spread my wings threateningly. Maybe that was a mistake. I hissed with pain as I flexed the right one. It was probably not broken, but I couldn’t rule out a sprain or something like that. The middle joint felt like it was on fire, the pain shooting all the way to my shoulder when I moved it. Flying was clearly out of the question, for the near future, at least.

That might have been a good thing, though. It meant I couldn’t just leap across the few metres separating us when the older boy threw his harpoon and my self-control slipped. I couldn’t tell if I didn’t get through to him, or if I scared him, or what. As I was trying to work some of the ache out of my wing he suddenly threw, and he threw hard. I didn’t see it coming. I felt a blow, off-centre on my chest, followed by a sharp sting, and I lost it.

Before I knew it I was scrambling and slipping across the slick stones, hissing furiously, trying to get into the air but only managing abortive jerks. Something terrible was going to happen, and I felt powerless to stop it. Part of my mind was screaming for me to turn and run in the other direction, but the rest of me was no less murderous than the dragon. If I could have flown at that moment, the poor bastards would already be screaming. The last two days had been a mess of anger, disappointment, hunger, exhaustion and pain, and they were going to pay for it, whether they deserved to or not.

The older man recovered from his surprise and drew back to throw as well, but I sprayed, wild and wide across the group, and as the venom hit his eyes his throw went wide. I still felt it hit my back and rattle along my scales, but that was their last chance. The humans fell back into the boat, coughing and screaming as they rubbed at their eyes, as I clumsily made my way up a taller rock near the boat and stretched across to grab the edge – gunwale? – my claws sinking deep into the wood.

The boat was a simple thing, seven or eight metres from end to end with no shelter and spaces for two oars on each side. It had a couple of benches, and the mast, of course, and I the sail hanging slack against it might have been the only reason my wing wasn’t properly broken. It also had a simple wooden grille as a floor, and the space under that was full of fish of various sizes.

The inside of the boat was a mess. Nets and other equipment were strewn everywhere. I must have rocked the boat pretty bad when I hit it. The mess was made worse by the four mostly blinded humans, rolling around, wailing and and coughing and, in one case, puking into the boat. The only one that wasn’t completely incapacitated was the younger of the boys, who was still blinking rapidly and coughing while trying to pour water in the older boy’s eyes.

When he saw me heaving myself over the edge of the boat, teeth bared and growling, he became very still. Well, except for the coughing. He looked at me with utter terror, and the first thing I thought was how easy it would be to pull him out of the boat. He was a scrawny thing, maybe eleven or twelve years old, and pretty short for his age, too. He couldn’t weigh that much.

Luckily for both of us, my slow, clumsy scramble across the rocks had given me time to get myself under control, if only barely. Maybe the fact that he was a kid helped, too. I didn’t give him a face full of venom, or bite his throat out. I didn’t finish off the bastards who had tried to goddamn harpoon me. Instead I squeezed the edge of the boat until my hands hurt, the wood crackling as my claws dug in deeper, trying to channel my rage somewhere.

“I told you,” I growled slowly, “not to try anything. I told you.”

“I… I…” the boy stuttered as the others moaned.

“I told you that I wanted to be left alone.”

Under my weight and strength the boat had drifted towards me, and I could hear it bumping against the stones. I leaned my head in as far as I could without tipping the boat, less than a metre from the terrified boy’s face. His eyes were as green as Garal’s.

“I…” he stuttered again, quivering as he pressed himself into the back of the boat. I was a little impressed that he hadn’t just leapt into the water, leaving the others to their fate.

I could tell who these people were. It was easy enough, based on what they’d said and what they had. They were some poor fisherfolk, probably from some poor fishing village, and a gold Dragon would probably change their lives. I could understand that, somewhere in the back of my mind. And if it was up to me, the rational part of me, then I might be satisfied that I’d taught them their lesson. But the dragon still raged inside me. It was not going to be satisfied with just hurting and terrifying these people. They had threatened us. They had hurt us; The harpoon hadn’t stuck, but they had made us bleed. And they had intended to kill us and sell our carcass, like a goddamn animal. No, the dragon needed something, and a pound of flesh was not going to cut it.

I took a deep breath. I smelled blood and puke and piss and fear, and above everything else, fish. I looked down, and found myself an out, a way to avoid doing something justified, perhaps, but something I might not be able to live with.

“Boy.” I fought to control my voice. “Do you want to live? Do you want it?”

He only coughed and stuttered wordlessly.

“I said, do you want to live?” I growled again, pushing myself that last bit closer, the boat listing as I put my full weight on my arms.

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “Yes! Please!”

“Do you want these people to live? Your family?”

“Yes!”

“Then take those two fish,” I told him carefully. “The big ones. Take them.”

He looked down, seeing what I meant.

My claws gouged the wood as I fought for control. “Lift them out of the boat. Wash them, and bring them to where I was lying. Then help your family, and get the hell out of here. If you do not do exactly what I have told you, I will kill you. I will. Do you understand me?”

“I…”

“Do you understand me?” I repeated, my voice now ice cold and calm.

“Yes!” he squeaked, and rushed to do as I had told him. The fish were each big enough that the scrawny kid could only carry one at a time, but he managed. He hesitated when he had to climb out of the boat past me, but a hard look and an encouraging growl got him moving. He washed the first fish in the waves spraying over the rocks, and put it where I had told him, then returned and did the same with the other.

By the time he had finished the others had mostly stopped coughing. When the woman looked at me, blinking, I snarled at her and she sat back in the front of the boat, pulling the older boy close and away from me.

With the second fish cleaned and delivered, the boy got back in the boat, scrambling past me as fast as he could. “Good,” I told him. “Well done. If you tell anyone about this, I will find you. I will. Now fuck off!”

The gouged wood splintered in my hands as I shoved the boat away and carefully made my way across the rocks towards my prizes. I had no way or intention of making good on my threat, of course, whatever they told anyone. But it was worth a shot. When I looked back the boy had grabbed an oar and was pushing the boat away from the rocks, not making much headway against the waves but clearly determined to put as much distance between me and them as he possibly could.

The dragon was still literally spitting mad. I’d had the bitter taste of venom in my mouth ever since I first saw the boat. But when I tore into the sweet, fatty fish it was at least a little mollified. It still wanted to kill the fisherfolk, but at least they had paid us some tribute, so not all was wrong in the world anymore.

I finished off the first large fish quickly, guts and all. The dragon wanted me to eat the second fish immediately, and my body screamed for me to sleep. But this was not a good spot to pass out, even if it was warm and fairly dry. I couldn’t go south, where the boat had been, because of the inlet. I had no desire to go back in the water. Instead I headed north, picking my way careful across the stones with the second fish gripped securely in my jaws. Having a mouth full of backwards-curving fangs really helped there.

After a fairly long walk I found a spot that would have to do. It looked like a large section of the cliffside had broken off in the distant past and tumbled into the sea, and now a tall, weathered rock stood between the water and the cliff, creating a natural shelter from both the waves and searching eyes. There I settled in and tore into the second fish, relishing the sweetness of the fatty flesh. I would have liked to drink something as well, but I had no idea if my kidneys could handle sea water and decided against it. Instead I curled up against the stone, hoped that no one would see me from the cliff and drop a rock on me, and went to sleep to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.

My last day and a half had been absolutely vile. I felt a deep guilt about not being able to help the rest of the captured villagers, and I was in a lot of pain. Hell, my neck still ached a little where Lalia had hacked me, if I moved it the wrong way. But I hadn’t killed any poor people just trying to survive, and I hadn’t eaten any kids, and at least now, with a belly full of fish and the sound of the sea in my ears, I could sleep.