Dragon Robs Bank – Film at 11

I haven’t been able to work since that night under the bridge with Domina Death and the weird device that stole 60 years or more from me. Thanks to Vlad teaching me hand-to-hand and sword fighting skills, I’m starting to get used to being a couple inches taller and having my center of gravity suddenly moved on me. I can walk across a smooth floor and not trip over my own scaly feet, anyway. I’m beginning to get to where I don’t accidentally crush things with my far stronger left hand, too. I wear gloves all the time to hide the weirdness, but gloves in Austin in July look damn near as out of place as scales.

Vlad sent a sample of the venom that my claws create into a lab to get tested, but the weird organic chemical breaks down so fast, no one can tell what it actually does. I suppose it’s one of those dragon things I’ll have to learn the hard way. Vlad said that he’s never seen a dragon with claws that injected venom like fangs, so looks like I’m a freak even among dragons. That’s not reassuring. Not even a little.

TakeDown, who also has trouble with bright light, hooked me up with special extra-dark wraparound glasses, so sunlight doesn’t blind me. Vlad said he went through a phase where he couldn’t handle daylight, but he outgrew it. When I asked him how long that took, he said, “Just a century or two.” Peachy.

Flying is the only cool part of this whole situation. My muscles are building up to the point where I can fly higher and longer. My arms and chest constantly feel like they’ve been beaten with hammers, though, and I’ve nearly died 5 or 6 times since that first lesson. I’d hate to think how learning to fly would have gone without help from another dragon.

In any case, with no ability to work for weeks, Ma and I are starting to have some trouble paying bills. I deliberately stashed some money away in a separate account a few years back, where it’s harder to get to, so that I wouldn’t spend it except when we really needed it. I shredded the card for it, and didn’t get any checks. In order to get the money, I’ve got to physically go there and sign something. Ma said she’d take care of it, but I didn’t think ahead enough to put the money in her name, too. So, it had to be me.

I threw on some jeans and a big t-shirt, tucked my messy hair back in a ponytail and drove across town. I’ve been getting pretty lazy about my appearance lately, except at night when I practice with Vlad. When I got to the bank, the door was locked. I checked the hours posted outside the door, and I should have been right in the middle of the normal bank work day, even with their short hours. I tried to look in through the tinted glass, but just saw my own reflection. I did the only thing I could think of, I knocked. After knocking fruitlessly a few times, I knocked harder.

The glass door shattered rather spectacularly.

Oops.

A slender middle-aged lady in a tailored business suit with a tiger-striped neck scarf stood blocking my path.

“Sorry about the door, maam,” I said. “Look, I’ll pay for a replacement, um, eventually. How much does a door like that cost anyway?”

She pointed at a sign that said something about removing glasses, hats and such, before entering.

There were big windows everywhere, though. Even inside, the sun was more than enough to blind me. “I’ve got a … a medical problem with my eyes.” I adjusted the glasses self-consciously.

The woman’s lips pursed into a tight little wrinkled raspberry. “I suppose you have a medical problem with your hands, as well.”

“Actually, yes, I do.”

The woman rolled her eyes, in a ‘yeah, right’ kind of way. “You might as well go rob a different bank. We’ve already called the police. They’ll be here any minute.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Even with the glasses on, being out in daylight was giving me one heck of a pain, but I needed the money in my account here to pay rent. “Look, lady. I don’t care if you called the national guard. Get out of my way.”

There were only a few people in this tiny bank branch, one guy working the outside drive-through lanes in the back who had stopped talking into the little microphone and stared at me. One person stood behind the counter, a teller, no doubt, and the tiger-striped scarf lady, probably some sort of manager, stood aside with her arms crossed and every inch of her screaming, “You’re going to get it later,” as she let me in.

I walked up to the girl behind the counter, whose eyes showed white all around like a spooked horse. She didn’t look any older than I did. She had her brown hair up in a bun to try to look older. “Hello, miss. I’d like to make a withdrawal,” I said politely, with a friendly smile to reassure her.

She opened the cash drawer and started laying bundles of money on the counter.

“Um, hang on a second. I didn’t even tell you how much I need. And shouldn’t I have to fill out a form or something?”

“Please, just take it and go. I don’t want any trouble.”

The money, all laid out on the counter like that, looked really tempting. I’ve never seen that much money in one place in my life.  Sure wouldn’t have to worry about the rent for a while with that kind of cash. But I’ve never stolen anything in my life; well, not since that candy bar when I was seven that made me so sick I thought I was going to puke up my toenails. My dad was furious. Kept going on about family honor and such.

I, very gently, put my left hand on the teller’s wrist to stop her. “Maam, I think you’re misunderstanding me. I have an account. I don’t remember the account number but, the name is um …” What the heck name did I put it under? I created this account like 20 years ago. “Diane Drake, I think. Or, maybe Damson Endriago.” I’d grabbed all my old ID’s before I left the apartment. I lifted my long t-shirt and stuck my right hand in the pocket of my jeans to find the right one, but the minute I stuck my hand in a pocket, everyone went nuts.

The teller squeaked like a stepped on mouse, yanked her wrist loose of my light grip, and ducked behind the counter. The guy working the drive-through lanes was just gone. Don’t know where the heck he went.

Miss tiger-striped scarf jumped on me, like she thought she was doing a flying tackle. Now that my center of balance isn’t so wonky, I’m not all that easy to knock over. I just stood there while she tried. After a few seconds she gave up.

“Are you finished?” I asked.

She looked up at me from the less than lofty height of her sensible heels, and I thought she might bite me.

About that time, 3 guys wearing dark wraparound sunglasses, ball caps, and gloves walked in through the broken glass door.

They walked right under the “Take off your hat and glasses” sign and drew pistols from their waistbands, under their long t-shirts.

I began to see the light. Figuratively speaking anyway.

I picked up the tiger-striped scarf manager lady bodily and dropped her behind the counter next to the trembling teller. “Stay down,” I told them.

There we go. All non-bullet-resistant folks out of harm’s way.

I turned to face the bank robbers and smiled.

“Hey!” the biggest guy said. “We’re robbing this bank!”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

He pointed his gun at me. His two buddies followed suit.

I raised my left arm to protect my head and charged into them. I’d love to say I used all that great martial arts stuff that Vlad taught me, but pretty much I used the subtlety of a bowling ball hitting pins. Some gunshots went off, but ricocheted off my scales. One of the robbers yelped as a ricochet got him in the thigh.

I inelegantly, but gently, punched the other two. They went down after one careful punch each.

I was feeling pretty good about myself as the three police cars pulled up, lights flashing, but sirens silent.

Cops poured out and pointed guns at me through the broken doorway.

I raised my hands and smiled. “Hi, guys. Good timing. These boys are ready to go to jail.”

Miss tiger-striped scarf came up from behind the counter spitting venom. “Put those scum away. That woman assaulted me. She’s the leader of this gang and this is the third branch of our bank they’ve robbed this year.”

“Hey, wait a minute. I didn’t assault or rob anyone.” I looked at the two unconscious guys at my feet, and one guy bleeding from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Well, not anyone who wasn’t shooting at me anyway.”

The cops decided to believe the bank manager in the tailored suit, rather than the scruffy-looking woman in dark glasses and gloves. Go figure.

No one much wanted to hear anything I had to say after that. I went to jail in handcuffs I had to be careful not to accidentally break.

On the way over, I asked the cops if they could contact Officer Flynn or TakeDown, that they knew me, but the cops acted like they’d been struck deaf.

So, yeah.

 They took away my glasses, so I was blind for a fair amount of the process. They weren’t very happy about the lack of fingerprints on my scaly left hand either. I got locked in a special cell for supes that I doubt even Fafnir could have gotten out of. And left there, for a long time. At least they were nice enough to turn the light off for me.

Jails suck, by the way. Just in case you were lucky enough not to know that.

Dee Dragon

Flying Lessons from a Stock Broker

Vlad drove me to a spot just off 360 where he owned some land. A creek that flowed into Lake Austin had cut a steep valley along one edge of a beautiful shady green field, leaving a long drop-off. It was the sort of place that rock climbers loved.

“You say you are physically past your first century now, perhaps even by a few decades?” Vlad asked.

“That weird device Domina Death used on me stole as much as 60 years from regular humans before they died. It stole so much time from me that it blew a gasket. So, I’d guess my body is somewhere between 120 and 160 years old now.”

“Then you need to learn how to fly.”

I barked a surprised laugh. “Vlad, I can barely walk.”

 “Dealing with your changed center of balance is something you will master only with practice. Just keep moving, and it will get easier over time. I will teach you some of the defensive arts of my childhood. That will make you both better prepared to defend yourself, and help you work through the awkwardness of your sudden … growth spurt.” He showed me wooden practice swords he had stashed in a duffel bag.

“Um, Vlad, I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t run into many sword-wielding bad guys in this century.”

Vlad frowned. “Only one. And he remains the most likely person on this continent to take your head, my love.”

“White Knight saved my life a few weeks ago,” I pointed out.

“When that Georgian learns that you are a dragon, he will undoubtedly regret that action.”

“I already regret saving HIS life, the jerk.”

“Your change will make hiding what you are more difficult, and the Georgian will soon become a deadly threat. I intend to make certain that you can defend yourself when that happens. Or, at least, fly away.”

He took me to the edge of the cliff and the shallow creek looked really small down there.

“Flying has many hazards and pitfalls that my father taught me to avoid,” Vlad told me. “Young dragons without that instruction often do not survive.”

“I’m pretty durable with all these scales.” Although I wasn’t sure it would be enough to keep me from dying at the bottom of this cliff.

“Scales will not protect you when a thunderhead sucks you up at incredible speeds to a height where the air is too thin to breathe and ice forms on your wings so that you fall like a stone. Never, under any circumstances fly near the edge of a storm system.”

I swallowed. “Good safety tip. I’ll remember that.” I had spent much of my childhood imagining how much fun it might be to fly in a thunderstorm. That would have been an ugly lesson without Vlad’s knowledge. “So, what else do I need to know, Yoda?”

“Well, young padawan. Fly without wings, you cannot, hmm.” Vlad did a pretty passable impression.

That surprised a laugh out of me. “You’re always so Mister Old World. I didn’t expect you to catch a sci fi movie reference.”

Vlad shrugged. “I prefer the original trilogy, despite the inferior effects. And you, my love, are stalling. Unfurl your wings.”

I stripped off the gloves and started unbuttoning my shirt, very conscious of Vlad’s eyes on me. He didn’t smile, but that dimple in his cheek gave away that he was tempted to. My cheeks got really hot.

I coughed and turned my back to him. I’m not sure what made me more nervous, being all alone with Vlad, half naked on a beautiful starry night, or the cliff he expected me to jump off of.

I set my shirt aside, back still to Vlad, and spread my wings.

Vlad gasped behind me.

Without thinking, I turned around, “What?”

My wing hit Vlad and knocked him off the cliff.

His eyes got really big and he yelped as he went over.

I dove for him, trying to grab his hand, but overbalanced, and in a sort of horrifying slow motion that was nonetheless too fast for me to a damn thing about, I fell off the cliff.

Vlad’s wings extended shredding his nice button down business shirt into rags and his body shifted in the same moment, larger, stronger, and scalier. His expensive Italian shoes didn’t survive the transformation, but he swooped out of my field of vision and I knew he would be fine.

I spread my wings and shifted my weight like I normally would to glide, but it didn’t work right. I overbalanced forward and tumbled in the air. I did about the only thing left to do. I screamed bloody murder as the rocks of the creek bed raced up to meet me.

Powerful clawed black feet grabbed my shoulders and pulled my body up to parallel within a few feet of smashing into unyielding ground. My wings caught the air finally and I lifted my head and angled the back of my wings down, converting the speed of my fall into horizontal speed along the ground, and finally into a bit of lift. I got high enough to skim the top of the trees that lined the mouth of the creek, rather than crashing into them. And the next thing I knew I was gliding over open water. The lake reflected back the light of the moon like a million tiny mirrors. The air rushing under my wings felt like the embrace of an old friend.

Vlad’s grip on my shoulders loosened and finally vanished as I learned how to keep my new body stable in the air.

“Flap,” Vlad shouted. “It’s like swimming. Grab big bites of the air and push them down.”

I gave it a shot, flapping wings that felt like they were weighted with boulders on the ends. And to my utter surprise, it worked. I gained perhaps ten feet of altitude. I did it again and again, and each time I shot upward a bit more. My arms felt like lead, but I didn’t stop. It was unbelievably exhausting, but it was also glorious.

Tears blurred the sparkles on the lake into long rayed stars.

I wasn’t just gliding. I was flying.

When I simply could not flap my wings another time, I spread them wide and glided, panting and sobbing.

Vlad soared next to me, wingtips almost touching mine.

“I did it. I’m doing it. I’m flying!”

Vlad’s bright white teeth and long fangs flashed against his black scaly face as he laughed, sharing one of the most joyous moments of my life with me. He didn’t just share it. He made it possible.

I looked at the magnificent black dragon flying beside me and my heart swelled until it felt like my chest might burst. I realized I’d lied to Vlad when I told him I didn’t love him.

I wobbled in the air as that realization hit me. I lost altitude. I tried to correct, but my wing muscles trembled with exhaustion. I tilted in the air and fell like a stone.

I didn’t scream this time. I wasn’t afraid. I knew, even as I plummeted into the water, that my dark protector would keep me safe.

The black water closed over my head and I sank. I tried to swim a little, I kicked against the water, but my huge wings hampered me. I pulled them in and folded them tight against my body, making me more streamlined, and kicked harder.

I stopped sinking, but was just too tired to get back to the sparkling surface above me.

The surface shattered as a black missile pierced it, and flew, that’s the only word I have for it, through the water to me. Vlad moved through the water with the grace of a manta ray I’d seen on the Discovery channel.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him as he brought us back to the surface.

He held my shaking body close as I gasped for air, and helped me back to shore.

Vlad drove me home, clearly deciding I’d learned enough for one night. I’m not sure we said a single word on the way back, but I held his hand, and tears ran down my face most of the way home.

My world is different now. Changed in a single night.

And I have no idea what I’m going to do about it.

Dee Dragon

Getting Past Cerberus

Getting Past Cerberus

Vlad won’t answer my calls. I left messages, not giving specifics of my problems, but telling him it was urgent that I talk to him. And he still didn’t call back. I only know two other dragons on earth and I can’t seem to get either one of them to talk to me.

I had to wait until dark to go outside. The full light of the sun was just too much for me to function in. Dark sunglasses helped, but I’ll probably have to get something like welding goggles if I’m going to deal with that level of light on a regular basis.

After the sun went down the temperature dropped to a mere 95 degrees, ten degrees cooler than the rest of the July day. The long sleeves, long pants, sunglasses and gloves that I wore earned me some puzzled looks from folks I passed on Congress Ave. Vlad’s office was in a high rise downtown on Congress just north of the river. This time of year, even the stuffy business folks were wearing short sleeves with their ties, and everyone else on the street wore shorts and sandals.

I rode up on the elevator, dark glasses shielding me from the harsh fluorescent lights, and making it somewhat easier to look like I didn’t notice everyone staring at me. Not that there were that many people there at this time of night to stare, but the cleaning crew clearly thought I was a weirdo. The directory in the lobby said that I would find the office of Vladimir Tchovsky on the 14^th floor. Vlad does a lot of trading in the Asian market which doesn’t open until late evening here, so I knew he’d probably be at work. I had no idea where he lived so this seemed like my best bet for finding him.

I pretty much expected the huge waiting area with high dollar original art, real wood furniture and thick carpeting. What I didn’t expect was the pretty receptionist with the tailored business suit and wireless headset who stopped me before I’d hardly stepped out of the elevator, and asked from behind her soccer field-sized desk, “Can I help you?” in a tone that sounded more like, “What the hell do you think you’re doing here, missy?” I immediately got the mental impression from her of a guard dog, jealously guarding the entrance to her master’s domain.

“Um, I’m here to see Vlad,” I told her.

“Mr. Tchovsky does not have any appointments scheduled this evening.” And that seemed to be all there was to that, as far as she was concerned. She went back to what she was doing on her computer screen, like she expected me to turn right around and get back on the elevator.

“Yeah, he’s not expecting me. Just tell him Damson’s here.”

“Mr. Tchovsky has asked that he not be disturbed this evening.” She pursed her lips, starting to get that I wasn’t going to be that easy to get rid of.  “May I ask what this is regarding?”

“It’s personal. Just tell Vlad I’m here.”

“I’m sorry, Miss … Damson, but you’ll have to make an appointment. I’m sure Mr. Tchovsky will see you as soon as it’s convenient.” Translation: “I’m sure my boss will ignore you until you give up and go away.”

I looked around the room. One wall was just a giant window with an awesome view of the Congress Avenue bridge and the river. Two doors on the other side were clearly marked with ADA signs Men and Women, pretty clear what those were. There was a hallway behind Vlad’s guard dog, Miss “You Can’t Come in Here Without an Appointment” with doors on either side, and way down at the end there was a massive solid wood double door in a rich mahogany finish that, based on the layout of the building, undoubtedly led to a corner office. Not hard to figure out which door belonged to the boss, and based on what Vlad had said about his financial situation, I had a pretty good idea who the boss was.

So, I ignored the receptionist, went around her big desk, and started down the hallway.

“Miss! You can’t just walk in.” She ran in front of me and planted herself.

“Mmm, actually, I can.” I took a step to the side, then kept walking.

Her voice gained the snap of authority. “Maam, I’m calling security. Stop where you are.”

“If you like your job, you might want to tell Vlad I’m here before you sic security on me.” I wasn’t too worried about security, anyway. I’d fought supervillains, and that was before I was mostly bulletproof. I wasn’t exactly at the top of my game right now, but I was still pretty durable.

I heard the receptionist talking frantically into her phone and a couple of the doors opened behind me after I passed them. “Stop right there,” barked a male voice.

I sighed and turned to look. Sure enough, some burly guy wearing cowboy boots and a walkie talkie had a gun pointed at my chest. If he’d pointed it at my head, I might have been nervous, but my chest could probably stop a bazooka blast these days. “Back off, cowboy. I’m just a friend of the boss, dropping in for a visit. The OK corral thing is a serious overreaction.” I turned my back on him and kept walking. Damn, this hallway was long. I focused on just walking, one foot in front of the other. Nowadays, that was more of a challenge than you might think.

“Maam, I don’t want to have to shoot you,” the guard said.

“Well, I don’t really feel like getting shot either. It stings,” I half turned and tossed back at him. “Go find something else to do with your …” Remember what I said about walking being more of a challenge these days than it should be? Yeah, walking while giving half my attention to the guy behind me didn’t work out so well. I tripped over a wrinkle in the carpet. At least, that’s my story. I would never admit to just randomly tripping over my own overly large and heavy-scaled feet.

I grabbed at a doorframe to keep from going down on my face. Unfortunately, I grabbed with my left hand, which means I didn’t just catch the wooden door frame, I crushed it to splinters and yanked a chunk of the wall off with it. “Crap. Sorry. I’ll pay for the repairs.” No one heard me, I don’t think.

The receptionist dove under her desk as the security guy opened fire.

I twisted so my left side faced him and covered my head with my left arm. Bullets pinged around the hallway and made holes in several of the office doors and walls.

“I hope no one else is working late,” I said. Vlad is not going to be happy about this.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Vlad stood in one open half of the big mahogany double door, looking really handsome in a Givenchy suit.

“Security breach, sir,” the cowboy-booted goon said. “Get back into your office until we have it contained.”

“Hi, Vlad,” I said, and waved.

“Damson! What in the world …”

“Your receptionist wouldn’t let me see you without an appointment. You have very, um, enthusiastic security.”

“Are you injured?” He jogged down the hallway and extended a hand to help me up.

“No, but …” I held up the chunk of wall I accidentally ripped out. “I think your offices are due for a bit of remodeling.”

Vlad didn’t crack a smile, but that dimple in his cheek appeared and I knew he was suppressing one. “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

“I had to take drastic measures. You haven’t been returning my calls.”

“I apologize. This has been … difficult for me.”

I’ve only dated two men in my whole life, and within a few weeks, I’ve made them both wish they never had anything to do with me. (Jack of All) “I’m sorry.”

Vlad nodded, a smaller version of his usual old world bow.

Vlad gave his receptionist and the security guy the night off and we talked for a while in his office about what happened. Vlad’s office was as big as my apartment, tastefully furnished with modern lamps and art contrasted with very old world mahogany and leather chairs, shelves full of thick books, and a well-stocked bar. The place looked like somewhere that men with long names and obscure titles would wear their silk jackets and cravats while sipping brandy from snifters and smoking expensive cigars. That, combined with the sparkling night view of Austin in the wall of windows behind Vlad, made me feel small and hopelessly out of place. The top of the line Mac with the huge flatscreen monitor was the only thing that seemed more out of place than me.

When Vlad realized that I nearly died the first night he wasn’t there to watch over me, he didn’t take it well. (Death and Her Scythe) His eyes got all red and glowy. “I should have been there. I should not have let bruised emotions keep me from your side.”

Oh, great. If I wasn’t careful, I’d get my stalker back. “Vlad, you’ve saved my bacon more than once, and I appreciate that, but I’m a grownup, even more so now than before. I don’t need you to protect me all the time.”

“What is it that you do need from me, Damson? Why go to all this trouble to tell me about your misfortune if not to show me the consequences of failing to protect you?”

I sighed. “I need you to teach me … how to be a dragon, I guess.” I wanted to get up and pace, but I was afraid I’d trip over air again.

Vlad was quiet for a while and I wondered what he was thinking. “Perhaps Fafnir could …”

“Fafnir’s in California. He told me to ask you.”

“I see.” I never want to play poker with Vlad. He does blank face better than anyone I know. I had no idea how he felt about all this.

“I could really use your help, Vlad. I’m a walking disaster. Just look at your hallway if you don’t believe me. And if I had to fight anyone right now, I’d probably knock myself out.”

“How does your young dragon lord feel about you coming to me?”

I’d already talked to Jack before I came. I knew better this time than to do anything behind Jack’s back. (Defusing Explosive Situations) I may be a bit of a screw-up, especially when it comes to love, but I don’t believe in making the same mistakes twice. I’ll undoubtedly come up with new ones. “Jack gets that I need help from another dragon. He doesn’t like that it’s you, but he understands that I’m pretty low on choices.”

Vlad’s poker face broke a little and he showed surprise, then his brows drew together. “I would have had a hard time being that understanding, were our positions reversed. Your dragon lord is an exceptional man.”

My turn to be surprised. “Did you just say something nice about Jack?”

Vlad looked painfully sad for a second, like he was fighting tears, then he hid it behind that poker face. “I understand why the brave young dragon lord is your chosen mate, Damson. I also know that you will one day regret your choice to love a human.” Before I could ask what he meant by that, he stood up from his desk, and bowed. “Since you will not permit me to be your protector, my lady, permit me to teach you to protect yourself.”

Relief flooded me. I’d been dreading what a mess I’d be in if Vlad just flat said no. “Thank you!” I ran around his desk to hug him, tripped over his garbage can, grabbed for a metal floor lamp reflexively, crushed the neck of it, giving it a 90 degree angle, smashed it into the side of his desk as I flailed, and realized, with horror, that I was stumbling toward the wall of windows with the 14 floor drop to concrete outside it.

Vlad caught my waist before I could crash through the window and plummet to my death. I dropped the broken lamp and hung on to him. He winced where my left hand grabbed his shoulder.

“Sorry.” I did my best to consciously loosen my grip, as my heart pounded in my chest, dealing with my close brush with death, as well as with the firm feel of Vlad's body pressed up against me. Vlad's cologne smelled dizzyingly wonderful, a bit like cinnamon or cardamon or some exotic spice I had no name for that made my mouth water.

His dimple appeared again, and he let the grin show in a twitch of his lips as he looked at the devastation I’d wreaked on his office, just by trying to walk around. “I do believe you’re right. It is about time for some remodeling.”

Dee Dragon

Fafnir Drage, Son of the Red

I snuggled close to my beloved Merlin, the familiar warmth and scent of his lean body, a great comfort after many nights spent alone. Pounding on the thick wooden door made him groan, sit up, and shout, voice gruff from sleep, “What? Come in.”

A servant in the green and white of Arthur’s household burst in, a human boy, no more than twelve. “A dragon has been sighted over the village, flying this way!”

Merlin grunted. “So, make him welcome and wake me when he gets here, boy. We’re expecting a messenger from Eric the Red.” My mate snuggled back into my arms.

“His body is red, but he has wings and breast of black!”

“Black!” Merlin sat up again and I sat up with him. Surely it was too soon for the Black Knight of his vision to come, and he had said the enemy was a fledgling, not yet a flyer. Nor should he have been alone. The vision said he had an army at his back. But visions are notoriously vague and often symbolic, rather than literal.

“It seems unlikely that this is the enemy we feared,” I offered cautiously.

“We’d best be prepared in any case. Go and wake Arthur, and make certain that young Robert is guarded. Run, boy!”

The page sketched a bow and ran.

We hastily dressed in court finery, but with weapons as well. It’s hard to know what to wear when you don’t know if a visitor comes to kill you or dine with you. For my own part, I dressed simply. If I needed to fight, my garments would lie in shreds when I transformed.

Arthur met us as we entered the kill tunnel under the front wall, dressed in a fine surcoat and his golden crown, but with his sword and a dagger belted at his waist, and a fine suit of chain under the surcoat. He left the portcullis raised and the drawbridge down as he would for any honored guest, but Arthur had the guards stand in their places, ready to seal the defenses again if needed.

Such defenses were a joke in any case against a flyer. Only a dragon could properly defend a keep against another dragon. Merlin was too old to take to the sky without first jumping from a high tower, and Arthur was too young. Both were formidable warriors in their own ways, but if it came to combat, I would be the one who faced the enemy in the sky.

We waited in the sheltering shadow of the wall until the stranger landed in the drilling field beyond the moat. That way we were not vulnerable to attack from above. The largest dragon I had ever seen landed before us, wings beating so hard that dust flew in our eyes even fifteen feet away. He was truly magnificent, this dragon of Red and Black, a young dragon in his prime strength, with spikes down his spine and barbing his tail. I hoped he was a friend. For the first time in my life, I faced an opponent that I was not certain I could defeat.

“Hail stranger,” Arthur greeted. “I am Arthur Pendragon. State your name and business here.”

“I am Fafnir Drage, eldest son of Eric the Red. You sent a messenger asking for aid. I am your answer.” The dragon’s voice boomed from a chest two wide to fit through the castle gate. I had no doubt that everyone in the castle heard him.

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “I had hoped Eric would send an army.”

Fafnir turned his head, neck arching almost in an S curve so that he could look at us with one eye, but face to the side. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled with force. Fire so hot it scorched the very air, making it difficult to breathe for a moment, blasted the pounded dirt of the drilling field until the very soil melted and blackened into glass. “I am better than an army.” The huge dragon shifted form, shrinking into a shaggy red-haired man, still bigger than any man I’d seen by a foot at least. “I’m easier to feed than an army, too.”

Arthur laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. This Fafnir was certainly very sure of himself.

“Welcome, Fafnir, son of the Red.” At his words of welcome, servants came forward bearing a tunic and belt of fine cloth for the visiting dragon prince.

We escorted him into the great dining hall where breakfast of eggs and pork waited. While he might be easier to feed than an army, that was only true by a small degree. The man ate a dozen eggs and an entire haunch of roast pig. He requested ale to wash it down and was accommodated.

When our hunger was eased, Arthur spoke to the northman, “Forgive our hesitant welcome. The enemy on our shores is of the Black.”

Fafnir nodded and wiped ale foam from his bushy red beard. “So your message said. My mother is of the Black, youngest daughter of the old Dracul himself, wedded to my father to cement the peace. We have the same truce with Black that we have with Green and Silver.  Eric sends these words...” Fafnir closed his eyes like a schoolboy striving to remember his lessons. “Red will not raid the shores of Black, Green, or Silver, and they will not raid ours. Those are the terms of our truce. Battles between you are not our concern. But if Black truly seeks to conquer Red lands as you say, then my son will remind them why they made the truce in the first place.”

“I see,” Merlin said thoughtfully. “You will require proof of Black’s intention to attack your own shores before you will fight beside us then.”

“How can we prove their intentions?” Arthur objected. “By the time they’re ready to turn against Red, our lands will be in ruins and thousands will be dead.”

I had had enough of this Red prince. I stood and faced Arthur. “If the only aid Eric will send is one arrogant half Black boy who refuses to even fight until the war is done, then it is clear we are on our own. The Silver guard will not fail to protect the land as we have for millennia. We have no need of the Red.”

Merlin caught my hand. “Do not be so quick to judge, my love. Fafnir’s aid may be more valuable than you …

Camelot slipped away in the wailing cry of “Let me Go- oh- oh! You don’t need me, baby. Stop holding on the way you are,” from my cell phone ring tone. I rolled over and answered, brain still half in the dream. “Mm?”

“Hello, fledgling. You wished to speak to me?” Fafnir’s deep voice said through the tiny box by my ear.

“Eric insults us by sending you. We need an army, not a single arrogant boy,” I snapped at him, eyes still closed.

Dead silence on the line.

I opened my eyes to my familiar bedroom, posters of Elvis, the Eagles and various incarnations of Doctor Who on the wall. I blinked a few times in light that seemed bright even though the heavy curtains were pulled closed to block out the daylight.

“Damson?” Fafnir finally spoke after several seconds.

“Fafnir? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for days. Where have you been?”

“Cell reception at the Faire site in California is abysmal. I just received your message and had to drive an hour into town to get a good signal. What was that about Eric and sending an army?”

“Sorry. Weird dream.”

“For a moment, you sounded exactly like Lady Nyneve of Avalon.”

My turn for stunned silence.

“Damson?”

“Uh. Would Lady Nyneve happen to have been my grandmother? Tall lady with ash blonde hair, in love with Merlin, who could turn into a huge silver dragon?”

“I would have described her as a formidable silver dragon who could turn into a tall, slender woman with pale hair. But, yes, that was Lady Nyneve. You remember her well, it seems.”

“How can I remember her at all? I’ve never seen her in my life.”

“That’s because she died centuries before you were born, fledgling.”

I sighed and flopped back into the dubious comfort of my bed. “You’re not helping, Fafnir.”

Fafnir chuckled. “It is said that dragons have long memories. Some of us remember things that happened before we were born. Some of us can even remember things that haven’t happened yet.”

“Like Merlin.”

“Merlin was something of a legend even when I was a fledgling, the most gifted wizard of the Green ever known. You are his granddaughter. It’s not surprising that you have memories older than your lifetime. What surprises me is that you have such a gift so young.”

“That’s why I’ve been trying to get hold of you. I’m not so young anymore. Domina Death stole about 60 years from me.”

“You really should lock your doors.”

“I’m serious, Fafnir. All of a sudden, I’m twice as old as I was before, but I don’t know any more than I did when you left.” I paced around the room, waving my scaly left arm with the clawed hand for emphasis. “I’m almost totally covered in scales, I can’t see outside without super-dark sunglasses, and I can barely walk across the floor without tripping because everything feels off balance and weird. You said dragon puberty was so slow so I’d have time to adjust.” My voice got a bit strident. “I haven’t had time to adjust to squat!”

“What do you expect from me, child? I cannot give you back those stolen years.”

I sat back on my bed. He had a point. Fafnir had become my surrogate dragon father figure, but he couldn’t fix this. “I don’t know how to hide my differences and look human. I don’t know how to deal with the light.”

“You will learn in time.”

“Time is what I don’t have. I don’t know how to be a dragon, and I don’t have decades to learn it on my own anymore. I need a crash course.”

Fafnir sighed. “It has been millennia since I had children as young as you are, and I never had to teach them such things. You would be better off learning from a dragon nearer your own age, one who has had to master the same skills in recent memory.”

“The only other dragon I know is Vlad, and he’s like 700.”

“Perfect. He is young enough that the lessons of the fledgling are still new in his mind.”

Young. Right. “Fafnir, how old are you?”

His rumbling laugh vibrated the phone in my ear. “Only a few thousand years, fledgling. By dragon standards, I am merely middle-aged. But our elders have all been killed or gone so deeply into hiding that even I cannot find them. So, I find myself in the odd position of the eldest and wisest. Most of my life I have been considered the brash, impulsive young fool. Now, the young look to me for guidance. It is good that you have the gift of long memory. Through you, the wisdom of elders like Merlin the Wise and the valiant Lady Nyneve are no longer lost.”

“I don’t feel particularly wise.”

Fafnir laughed again. “You give me hope, fledgling. I thank you for that. The young Black can teach you what you need to know, and will enjoy the chance, I think.”

“Yeah. Um, about that. Vlad is sort of not talking to me.”

“Did you break his heart, little one?”

“Yeah, probably. This dating thing is pretty much a lose, lose game. I can’t do anything without someone getting hurt.”

“There is never love without pain. You will have to swallow your pride and ask for his assistance.”

“Jack is going to love that.”

Fafnir chuckled again. Glad my misery was so amusing to him. “I wish you luck, fledgling.”

“Thanks just bunches.”

He was still laughing when he hung up.

Dee Dragon