Voices of Dragons

She pulled the elastic out of her hair, shook her head, and smoothed her hair out anyway. It looked a little better.

A knock came at the door, and Kay’s mother asked, “Honey? Are you okay? We can still call this off if you don’t want to go through with it.”

“No, Mom. I’m fine. I’ll be out in a couple more minutes.” Pacing now, avoiding the mirrors so she wouldn’t keep messing with her hair, she waited for the call. She wouldn’t be able to stall for much longer. What was taking Artegal so long?

Even though she was expecting it, when her phone rang, she still jumped and fumbled when she answered it. “Hello? Tam?”

It was Tam, in a panic. “He’s on his way! Oh my God, Kay, he’s flying so fast.”

Which meant she didn’t have much time. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Kay?” Tam said, when she was about to hang up. “Be careful, okay? Whatever happens, be careful. I want to hear the whole story when this is all over so you have to be there to tell me, okay?”

Kay couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I promise.”

Head up, chin out, copping all the attitude she could muster, she marched to the gym and to the press conference outside. She hadn’t figured out how she was going to explain why she was wearing her homecoming dress for this, so she just wouldn’t explain.

When she entered the gym, where the temporary FBBE offices still resided, the bustle fell still. It wasn’t an immediate thing. Instead, one person noticed her and stared, then another, then a few more who looked up to see what the others were looking at, until the whole room was quiet.

Kay’s mother was waiting by the outside door, where Kay could just make out another waiting crowd.

“Kay?” Mom said, confused. “Kay, what is this? Why are you dressed like that?”

“I wanted to look nice,” she said.

Her mother looked quizzical but didn’t say anything else. As much as Kay tried to act as if this were all normal and nothing were wrong, this was too weird. She wasn’t fooling her mother. She wasn’t fooling herself.

Mom glanced out the door and pressed her lips together in an expression of satisfaction. “Are you ready?”

“I’m ready,” she said, breathing too fast, then marched past her mother and through the door.

On the pavement outside the gym, a podium, microphones sprouting up from it like a spiky mechanical flower, had been set up in front of several rows of folding chairs. Reporters sat in many of them, while many others stood, gathered in clumps, talking.

She went to the podium and tapped on one of the microphones. An echoey thumping noise came from somewhere. She couldn’t see where the speakers were. Reporters looked up, looked at her, and made their way to their seats, murmuring.

“Hi,” Kay said, and winced because it sounded stupid.

Everyone sitting in the two dozen chairs must have raised their hands and shouted at the same time, asking questions before she had a chance to collect herself. Kay stepped back, assaulted by the aggression of it. Mom came up beside her and took charge.

“My daughter has a statement she’d like to read,” Mom said, and the crowd settled.

Her hands shaking, Kay unfolded the paper on which she’d written her statement. Her throat was dry; she had to swallow before she could speak. She glanced at the sky; Artegal wasn’t in view yet, but he would be any minute now. She wanted to do this carefully. She wanted to make sure people heard every word.

“I’m not going to stand here and tell you war is bad or wrong, we shouldn’t do it, and we should work for peace instead, because it would be too easy for people like General Branigan to say I’m naïve, I’m just a kid. To blow me off and act like nothing I say could be important. But if you think about it, I have more right than anyone to talk about what’s going on here, to have an opinion about it. I think if I’m allowed to stand up here and talk at all, then I’m allowed to have an opinion that matters.

“My father died because of a misunderstanding. Because of laws and a border that exist because we couldn’t be bothered to try and get along. I’ve spent the last several months crossing the border and talking to a dragon. I know that dragons and humans can talk to each other.

“I’ve thought, I’ve wondered, if maybe it was my fault.” Here, her mouth grew dry again, and she paused to wet her lips before continuing. “If what happened to my father was my fault. If this whole war was my fault because of what I’ve been doing. If me crossing the border and talking to my friend somehow started this or made it worse, then maybe the same thing can maybe make it better.

“The history of people and dragons goes back thousands of years. There used to be a tradition where human settlements would show they were serious about negotiating for peace by offering a symbol. A sacrifice. A virgin in a white dress.”

“Kay, no,” her mother whispered in a harsh voice. Kay couldn’t look at her, not even a glance.

Somebody screamed and pointed up. Artegal had arrived.

He moved like one of the jets, soundlessly, almost too fast to track. His wings tilted like oars, and he banked into a circle over the school. Half the crowd ducked; the other half ran. More people screamed. A couple of guns fired, then stopped, because there were too many people around.

Kay shouted into the microphone, “Stop it! He isn’t doing anything wrong!”

People looked at her, then looked back at the dragon, as if they were trying to keep both in view at the same time. But Kay was right, and Artegal wasn’t doing anything but circling, dipping a lazy wing to bank his silvery-gray body, keeping one dark eye on the proceedings below. Maybe people would pause to notice that he was beautiful.

Three more dragons approached, flying fast and hard, their wings swept back, their necks stretched forward, heading for Artegal. They’d followed him, or chased him rather. People scattered, leaving news crews with their cameras pointed to the sky and soldiers aiming their rifles.

The dragons weren’t heading for the now-fleeing crowd, the news vans, or the buildings. They were heading for Artegal. Artegal responded, banking sharply, swooping, altering his flight. But they followed his erratic path, made their own swoops and maneuvers to surround him. Artegal was smaller than the others, younger, less experienced. No matter how much he dodged, veered, and changed his course, the others stayed with him. He might have escaped by flying high, straight, fast—away, in any direction. But he wouldn’t leave the area. He was waiting for her.

His pursuers stretched their hind claws forward, bared their razor teeth, and prepared to pounce on him. Then the familiar sounds of jet engines roared overhead: A pair of the F-22s, flying close, swung in a wide arc overhead, as if preparing to attack the dragons. The trio of dragon warriors veered and scattered. The jets looped around them in a circle that seemed to encompass the entire town.

“No!” Kay shouted. This gave her and Artegal even less time. She tried not to be angry at Captain Co

She doubted that the dragons could hear her—the pilots in the jets certainly couldn’t hear her—or that they would even glance at what must have sounded to them like an insect buzzing. But she knew from Artegal that their eyesight was good, and that they had to see her in her blazing white dress. She ran.

Kay’s mother grabbed her arm and yanked her back, like an anchor. Kay nearly fell over.

“What are you doing?” Mom yelled.

Kay turned on her, pleading. “Mom, I have to do this. I have to try.”

“Try what? Kill yourself? Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“No, Mom. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t. We’ve got a plan. We can do this.”

“You want them to take you.” Her mother glared, intense, hard. Her hand bit into Kay’s arm.