Voices of Dragons

“Now I’ve lost someone, too,” Artegal said.

“Who—who was he?” she managed to stammer.

“Brother’s mentor.”

It wasn’t quite an uncle. She wondered what the relationship meant to a dragon, how important someone like that would be. She didn’t understand. How could she grieve with him if she didn’t understand? How could they even talk?

“I’m sorry,” she said.

With a sigh, he tipped his nose to the ground. He’d never done that before. He’d brought his head low; he’d looked her in the eye at her level. But she’d never seen him rest his head, as if it were too heavy to hold up.

She wondered if dragons cried.

Hesitating, she touched his face, the narrow ridge of his snout that ran between his eyes. He blinked, left his eyes half closed, and nudged himself closer. Then she was hugging him, wrapping her arms around the narrow part of his neck, behind his head.

“Was this our fault?” she said. “Did they fight because of us?”

His breaths were sighs, like he was tired. “Would have happened. If not now, then later.”

“What are we going to do?”

He shuddered slightly—a shrug, almost. She stepped away so he could look at her more easily. “If we can, we should make something of this. Already too many sacrifices. This will make it worse. Before, it was two warriors shaking their claws at each other. Now, there will be armies. Not skirmishes, but battles.”

She could see it, because the Dracopolis book had pictures of it: a swarm of dragons filling the sky, a tapestry of wings. Below them, a sea of human beings with siege engines. Now, when the humans had jets and bombs, how much worse would it be?

How did you stop such a thing? Too many sacrifices, he’d said.

Artegal looked up, studied the sky, as if he had heard something that she had not. “We should go. Quickly. They’ll find us. Catch us. Can’t let that happen.”

It seemed inevitable at this point. Why fight it? She wanted to throw a tantrum. Stand up and just scream for them to stop it—why couldn’t they all just stop it?

Maybe she ought to try it. What was there to lose? Herself and her mother. A friendship. She undid his harness, helped him pull it off his back, and began coiling it. She had a weird idea.

“Artegal?”

He’d been studying the sky again, but snorted and looked at her. They’d discussed the book. She’d brought translations to share, and he’d told her what he’d been able to translate. They’d studied the extra sheet of paper tucked in the back and tried to understand what it meant—a treasure map, Kay thought; a lost cave of dragons still in hiding, Artegal thought. In Greenland? she wondered. But they hadn’t talked about everything in the book, and so she asked.

“The Dracopolis book talks about virgin sacrifices. About how, in the old days, villages would give virgins to the dragons to make them stop attacking. Did that actually work?”

He tilted his head—a sign of curiosity. “I think it did. It was a sign of what people were willing to give for peace.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Did the dragons actually eat the girls who were sacrificed?”

“I think it depended on the dragon. Some were kept, like pets. At least that’s what our stories say.”

This was grim. She could understand the knights coming after the dragons, willing to fight to stop such a thing. But she could also understand being desperate enough to sacrifice one person to save everyone, to stop a war.

One last question, one that should have occurred to Kay a long time ago. It was the big overriding question of her life, at least according to Tam.

“Why virgins?” she asked Artegal.

He snorted a foggy breath. “I don’t know. That was the humans’ idea. We can’t tell the difference.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, but that didn’t stop the bubble of laughter. It was sharp, too loud in their quiet clearing. Artegal jerked, startled, raised his head, and stared.

We can’t tell the difference. That made the whole question wonderful, didn’t it? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if she was or not.

She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. It’s just—you’re right. It’s not important. But here’s the thing, Artegal. I am one. And if we could, do you think it would work?”

“A sacrifice?” he breathed.

“I mean, you wouldn’t have to eat me. You wouldn’t, would you?”

“Silly. No,” he said.

“It wouldn’t even have to be a real sacrifice. We pretend that it is. We make a big show of it—” And then what? Go back to the way they were? The whole point of a sacrifice was to change everything, to make sure things didn’t stay the same.

“The elders wouldn’t believe it. They trusted humans to keep the border. They were betrayed.”

“That’s why we don’t leave it up to them. Not the elders, not the air force, not anybody. We do it ourselves.”

He thought for a moment—still, unmoving. A great statue of a dragon. “We do this—then what? You can’t return home, for it to be true.”

You can’t offer yourself as a sacrifice and expect to go back to school the next day. Was she willing to do that, to leave home? She’d never been sure about what she wanted to do with her life, except have adventures. Well, this was it.

“East,” she said. “We go to the place on the secret map.”

“May be nothing there.”

“But I think there is,” she said.

“Yes. Me too.”

The rhythmic thumping of helicopters sounded nearby. The world intruded. Fallout from the battle was about to sweep over them.

“We must go,” he said, ducking, his neck curving close.

How were they going to plan this thing, if they really were? She wished he had a cell phone. She wished a cell phone existed that was big enough for him to use.

“How will I talk to you?” she said, her heart pounding.

“The other place, where we met to fly. Your people don’t know of it. Leave notes. I’ll look. Every morning, if I can.”

“Okay, yes.”

“This thing. We should try.” The ridges over his eyes were arced, giving him a fierce look. His eyes shone. It may have been her imagination, but the colors of his scales seemed to shimmer, taking on blacks and reds.

“We’ll think of something. Hey, I need to hide the harness somewhere. It almost got me in trouble this time. They’re watching me. They’ll take it from me if they catch me. Can you hide it? Would you be able to take it?” She pulled off her own climbing harness and clipped it to the ropes, to keep all the gear together.

To answer, he stretched forward a hind foot and closed the claws around the coils of rope. They looked like a tangle of thread in his grip.

“Kay,” he said. “Take care.”

“You too.” She reached out her hand, and he nudged it with his nose. He turned and launched, and the trees around the clearing swayed and rustled at the sudden burst of wind his wings made.

She went south, toward the river.