Carrie Vaughn - Voices of Dragons

“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.

“Me and Artegal. We want to stop the fighting. No one can ignore this.” She wondered if she should have told her mother. She should have asked for her help—she could make sure no one ignored this. She had to make sure no one ignored this.

“Kay, I don’t want to lose you, too. I can’t lose you both!” She was crying, as anguished as she’d been the night at the hospital.

“Mom, I’ll be okay.”

Her mother studied her, her eyes shining. Then, she let go.

Kay wrapped her arms around her mom and squeezed. For the first time, she realized they were the same size. She and her mother looked alike. She’d never noticed that before. “I love you,” she whispered. “You and Dad both.”

“Kay—”

She ran. Straight across the pavement of the parking lot to the football field, which was dried winter brown and spotted with patches of snow.

Jon waited in the middle, holding her pack. He caught her as she slid to a stop.

“This isn’t working, Kay. This isn’t going to work—”

“Wait, just wait.” She slung the pack over one shoulder, looked up, and waved. She must have glowed against the backdrop of the field.

The dragons, all of them, hesitated.

The three attackers hovered, their wings scooping the air to keep them aloft, and looked down at her, their necks stretched forward and their heads tilted with what Kay thought must be amazement. They must have known what they were seeing. They must have thought they’d never see such a thing again. She could hear the jets, but it took her a moment to catch sight of them. Their path hadn’t changed, their circle bringing them back over the school—maybe they wouldn’t attack this near the town. Or maybe they were waiting to see why the dragons were waiting. Maybe the pilots were watching her, too.

“What’s happening?” Jon asked, his voice low.

“I don’t know.” But she was smiling.

The three dragons surrounded the field now, circling, hovering—keeping their distance, but watching carefully. They growled and grumbled at one another. Meanwhile, Artegal dived, straight toward her.

She stood her ground.

“Kay!” she heard her mother scream from the edge of the field.

Kay looked at Jon one more time. His face was stone, and his hands were clenched into fists. On an impulse, she ran forward, hugged him one more time, remembering how his arms felt around her. She thought that maybe Tam was right and they should have slept together. As Artegal said, no one could tell she was a virgin unless she told them. But there was no sense regretting anything now. Besides, she would see him again. She would. She had to believe that.

“Go,” she murmured. He nodded and ran toward Mom. Quickly, she put on her coat and put the backpack over both shoulders.

Artegal landed beside her. She felt his weight tremble through the ground, he was so close. But so precise, so careful. Despite his size, he would never damage anything by accident. Surely her mother would see that.

She looked up the scaled slope of his body, the sails of his wings that blocked out the sky, his graceful neck and the monstrous head, his shining dark eyes.

“Ready?” he said, his voice rumbling.

“Yes.” Her own voice was fearful.

He reached one hind foot forward, and she grabbed hold of it. His clawed toes wrapped around her, and she hugged his leg.

He launched. She looked down once to see her mother clinging to Jon. She was crying. Jon was just staring at her. Kay dared to let go and wave at them.

Mom waved back. Pulling away from Jon, she waved with both arms.

Then Artegal flew fast, straight up, ahead, and away.

She was throwing off his balance, she could tell. His wing beats felt harder than usual, and he dipped to the left, where he was holding her. She tried to curl up as small and streamlined as she could. She found she was more sheltered here than on his back. She was in a pocket of still air while the wind swept around her. His toes were rigid, holding her as tightly as he could without crushing her. They were both afraid of her falling.

Turning her head, she could look between his toes, past his scaled belly to see what was happening, to see if the two of them were going to be knocked out of the sky for this, either by the dragons or the fighters.

The trio of dragons followed, but only briefly. They circled without turning their gazes from the sight of the girl and dragon racing away. Then, after about a mile, they arced their backs, spread their wings, and went away. Back toward Dragon.

The two jets followed a little longer. Artegal struggled to keep up his speed, despite the awkwardness of holding her. His lack of speed meant the jets could come close, though they stayed behind and to the side. Kay couldn’t see much detail on them, just their silver wings and bright sunlight glaring off the canopies. But after a few minutes the lead jet wagged, rocking back and forth a couple of times, before both planes tipped to their sides and peeled away, roaring back south. She imagined that was Captain Conner flying the lead plane.

They had seen. They’d all seen. They’d understood.

She and Artegal flew north.

As soon as Artegal flew across the border, the requirements of the sacrifice were fulfilled and the dragons would call a truce. Or so she and Artegal hoped. Artegal was confident—he said the dragons had the greatest respect for this ritual. Kay hoped that the human side of the conflict would also respect what she had done and abide by a truce. As her mother had said, what they needed was a chance—a reason—to talk.

Neither could be sure what their people would do.

After entering Dragon, they turned east and landed an hour later so Kay could get warm again. She broke open a pack of hand warmers and put on her winter clothes, then secured their climbing ropes and harness, which Artegal had hidden yesterday. Flying with her clipped into his harness would be more comfortable for both of them. They didn’t stop for long; they didn’t want to be found.

Artegal wanted to avoid dragons entirely. He couldn’t be sure that either of them was safe. So he flew, straight and fast as he could, stopping only for a few minutes at a time, just a few times a day. The rest of the time, he went on, tireless, determined. She stayed strapped in, nibbling on beef jerky and granola bars from her pack, sipping water, watching the sky swirl past above her. She slept on his back, heat radiating from him, helping keep her warm. His heartbeat pounded in her dreams.

Many times, she heard aircraft, but could never be sure where they were. Sometimes she saw specks in the distance or running lights at night. Other times, Artegal would see something that caused him to veer and increase his speed. Dragons, in distant pursuit. But they weren’t caught. Their pursuers almost seemed like escorts.

On the third day, they reached the Atlantic Ocean. They stopped briefly, touching down on the coast, flying a few miles along the shore. Then they touched down again, closer to a town on the horizon, where Kay’s cell phone found reception. Kay sent a text message to her mother: I’M ALL RIGHT. I LOVE YOU. She texted the same message to Jon and Tam.

After that, they left land behind. Then they couldn’t stop at all.

He startled her once by diving. She choked back a scream as she felt him hit the water and saw waves splashing on either side of his body, but a heartbeat later he was beating his wings hard and pulling up. She saw the tail of a huge fish dangling from his mouth before he sucked it in.