Alex Bledsoe - Burn Me Deadly

“Once, the whole world belonged to the dragons. They had tribes, territories, politics and wars, just like men. Only their great reptile hearts could not conceive of the idea of compromise. As a result, they killed each other off, until by the advent of the time of men there were only a few widely scattered dragons left.” He cut his eyes at me to gauge my reaction; I kept my expression neutral.

“Solarian and his consort, Lumina, were two of these few,” he continued. “They once ranged over this whole hemisphere, burning and pillaging as they wished. People at the time didn’t understand much about how the world really worked, so they saw these two immense, powerful beings first as harbingers of the gods, then as gods themselves. They built temples, wrote songs, made sacrifices.”

“Human?”

“Human and otherwise. When a thirty-foot flying lizard’s breathing fire down your pants, you’ll try anything once to calm him down. Finally two great men appeared: Gerard Tempcott, great-great-and-so-forth-grandfather of the man you rescued your friend from, and Charlton the Just, the founder of Muscodia. Both saw in the dragons something they wanted to possess. Tempcott the elder believed they could lead mankind into a better world, and Charlton simply wanted to use them as weapons against his enemies.”

“That would be useful. Except that I imagine dragons aren’t easy to train. Oh, and they aren’t real.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“Because I’m not some backwoods yahoo who believes anything he’s told. Real animals can’t breathe fire; they’d burn themselves up. No animal has four legs and wings. It’s all folklore and mythology.”

His eyes narrowed and looked closely at me. “Where did you get your education?”

“The school of hard parries,” I fired back.

He smiled. “Hell, you’re probably right. I can’t argue with any of that, except to say that maybe conventional wisdom could be wrong. Tempcott supposedly brought Solarian’s skull here with him; have you seen it?”

“Yeah. It’s just some kind of crocodile.”

“But it’s real? The skull of a real animal?”

“As far as I could tell. But if it’s a real animal, then it can’t be a dragon, can it?”

Again he paused for a draw. “Do you want the rest of the story?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Solarian wasn’t interested in a truce or a treaty. Charlton the Just met him for a battle to the death on the plain where Sevlow is today. He couldn’t overpower the dragon, so he built a dummy, studded it with hooks and knives and gave it his shield. When Solarian attacked it, he inadvertently slashed and cut himself to pieces on it. Once he was weak enough, Charlton was able to get in close and deliver the fatal blow.”

“Clever,” I had to admit. “Not exactly sporting, though.”

“No. But the winner writes the history, and it’s considered a great victory. Solarian, mortally injured, flew back here to the Black River Hills for his death throes. He burned every tree from the mountains. He killed every living thing for a hundred miles around. And he accidentally wounded Lumina. When Solarian finally died, his corpse fell into the river and was never seen again. Lumina, gravely injured and distraught, crawled into a cave and disappeared from history.”

“And that’s the end?”

“Of the historical record. The rest is just speculation. Some say Lumina died, too; some say she’s still there sleeping, awaiting the call of the true believers. And some…”

“What?”

He paused for a long, dramatic draw on his pipe. “Some say she still stands guard over the last dragon egg.”

Pretty standard bedtime story,” I said more sarcastically than necessary, looking up at the stars. A few small clouds scudded sneakily over them. “Think I can get some warm milk, too?”

Lockett put his pipe aside. “Sure, it’s easy to mock. But what if it’s not just a story? There are lots of other myths and tales about dragons, including some where men befriended them, or enslaved them. Can you imagine what a modern army, with all its advanced weaponry, could do if it also had a dragon leading the way?”

“Make a mess?” I offered. I was tired, and this was growing progressively sillier.

“No! Just the opposite. It’d be bloodless coup after bloodless coup.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because burns from dragon flames never heal, did you know that? They remain just as fresh and agonizing as the day they were inflicted. What soldier is going to want to face that? What king could expect his army or citizens to stand up to it? Just the threat of it will end the war before it starts.”

“Sure. If dragons were real. And still existed. And could be tamed.”

He retrieved his pipe and blew a thoughtful puff of smoke. Then he looked at me sideways. “So if you don’t believe in dragons, how’d you get a look at Solarian’s skull?”

“I charmed old man Tempcott.”

He laughed in genuine surprise. “That a fact?”

I nodded. “What do you know about him?”

“Tempcott? Let’s see… he first got our notice about a year ago when he showed up out of the blue in Bonduel. There was always a remnant of the old dragon religion there, but it was never more than a few families at best. Then Tempcott arrived waving the skull of Solarian, kicked out the old priest and took over the group. Do you know who the old priest was?”

I shook my head.

“Fellow named Chester Lesperitt.”

I kept the reaction off my face.

“Never heard of him?” Crockett pressed.

I shook my head, all innocence.

“Well, Chester was able to keep his group going all those years because he claimed his daughter had once found the cave in the Black River Hills where Lumina slept with her offspring. When Tempcott arrived, all dragonfire about the ‘true path’ and ‘bringing the flame back to the world,’ old Lesperitt got brushed aside and left in a huff. But not his daughter. She was captivated like everyone else. Still, she was careful not to give away her secret until she was certain Tempcott was sincere.”

Although I knew the answer, I looked blank and said, “So what happened?”

“That’s where it gets fuzzy. Six months ago Gordon Marantz suddenly started bankrolling Tempcott and he collected a gang of rich, aimless young men around him, including Muscodia’s crown prince. They decided to relocate here, close to the Black River Hills, I assume so Laura Lesperitt could take them to the cave with the sacred relics. Somewhere between Bonduel and here, though, she seems to have vanished.”

Or changed her mind about Tempcott, I thought. But I said nothing.

He paused, retrieved his pipe and took a long calming drag. “Then I heard gossip about your little ambush on the Tallega road. I wondered if the girl you tried to save might have been her.”

“I never got her name,” I said with utter sincerity, and added a little faux wistfulness for color.

He looked at me through a fresh puff of smoke. His expression was inscrutable. Finally he asked, “So what will you do now?”

“Make sure the girl inside is okay.”

“And after that?”

“I never think that far ahead.”

“Uh-huh,” he said knowingly.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Mother Mallory said softly from the doorway behind us. She nodded at me and said, “She’s asking for you.”

I looked at Lockett. “Go on,” he said with a wave of his pipe. “She needs your help more than I do. I hope she makes it.”

“Can we talk more later?” If my chain of association was right, he might help me figure out what to do next.

He shook his head. “I have to hit the road. I stopped here on my own time, and I’m behind schedule as it is. If I don’t check in when I’m supposed to, then sad old men in ivory towers get very angry with me.”