Voices of Dragons (14 page)

Kay and her mother drove home from the meeting in silence. Kay didn't know whether to be terrified or furious. The general's threat had been obvious—spying was the only way she'd stay out of jail. At seventeen, she could be tried as an adult and sent to prison. But they were using her. She hated that.

When her mother spoke, she did so softly. “It's almost funny. All that bombing isn't having an effect because they don't know what their targets are. Those bombing runs have been random. They have satellite and infrared photos that show where their dragons may live, but they also think the dragons may be making decoys, setting fires to make some areas look hotter. So they need information. They
need you, Kay. I can't believe they're basing their strategy on what a teenager can tell them,” she muttered.

“What if I don't do it?” Kay said. “I could just not do it.”

“Besides the fact they'll send you to jail? Without specific targets, they'll start using more destructive weapons. Branigan's talking nukes, but he doesn't have that authority. At least not yet.”

He would do that?
Kay thought, disbelieving. Did he think it was okay to destroy that much land, to risk the radiation—to make such a large area unusable for everyone, just on the chance that it might harm the dragons? Did he hate the dragons that much? She didn't understand. Even before she'd met Artegal, she wouldn't have understood wanting to destroy the mountains and forest to get to the dragons, who just kept to themselves, after all.

Kay's mother continued as if speaking were difficult. “I know you think of the dragon as your friend. I know you think of this as betraying him. But, Kay, he doesn't need you to protect him. He can take care of himself. You have to think about
you
. And your family. I can't lose you, Kay. I can't lose you, too.” She shook her head in a slow denial, staring straight ahead over the steering wheel with wide eyes.

Kay and her mother had only each other now. Kay loved her mother, of course, but this felt like a burden. Kay could barely keep her own head on straight; she couldn't keep her mother safe, too.

The next day, she dressed for winter hiking and packed
a backpack of supplies. She was vaguely relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about sneaking around this time. She had official military sanction for what she was doing now.

She found her mother in the living room, curled up with a blanket around her, clutching a mug of steaming coffee. The whole house smelled like fresh coffee. It was a sign of normality—but a little normality made things seem even more surreal. On a usual morning, Mom would have been at work before dawn. Kay would have been getting ready for school, but she hadn't been back since the fire. Her mother was watching TV, but not news. A shopping channel or an infomercial. Something completely neutral. Even more surreal.

Kay stood for a long time wondering what she should say. Maybe she should just leave her mother alone. But she couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that to her mother.

“I'm going,” she said.

Mom looked at her like she hadn't understood.

“He probably won't even be there, so I'll be back in a couple of hours, I think,” Kay continued. “I won't go far, I promise. Just to our usual spot across the border. I wouldn't know where else to go anyway.”

Then Mom started to get up, setting aside coffee mug and blanket. “I should go with you. You shouldn't have to do this alone.”

Kay held up a hand to stop her. “No, Mom. It's okay. I can do this.”

The look of anguish on Mom's face was as bad as Kay
had ever seen it. Like the world was falling apart all over again.

“Mom, I'll be careful.”

“At least let me drive you there.” She went for her coat across the arm of the sofa and her purse on the dining room table.

Kay started to argue, then didn't, because it would be easier just to let her mother drive her. And if it made Mom feel better, well, it didn't cost Kay anything.

 

Kind of nice, Kay thought, not having to worry about hiding the Jeep.

During the drive, the silence between them was delicate, like handling well-packed explosives. As long as they took care, nothing would blow up.

They drove past the trailhead to the dirt service road, until the trees blocked them. Mom stopped the car, but kept her hands on the wheel and stared into the forest.

“I'm almost jealous,” she said, donning a tight smile. “I've always wanted to meet one of them. Your grandfather was part of the delegation that negotiated the Silver River Treaty. Did you know that?”

Kay had, but didn't know much more than that. Rough details, an old black-and-white photo in the family album. It was a group photo taken outside Silver River, with the northern mountains as a backdrop. Her grandfather was one of the young men in a suit standing to the side, in the
crowd surrounding the generals and ambassadors who'd made up the core of the delegation. He'd died when she was too young to really remember him.

“He was just a junior assistant secretary of some sort. But he was there. He met them. And then they were just…gone. I think he's part of why I got into this line of work, just to be close. As close as I could.”

Maybe, if this all worked out, Kay could bring her mother to meet Artegal. Kay hoped she didn't ask for that now. Kay just wanted to get the car ride over with. She wanted to get out to the woods, to their spot, confirm that Artegal wasn't there, and then tell Branigan this wouldn't work.

“I'll try to hurry up so you won't have to wait long,” Kay said.

Mom leaned toward her—fell, almost—and caught Kay up in a tight hug. “Leave your phone on. Call me if you need anything, if anything happens. Though they're probably listening in on our phones now,” she said with a short laugh.

“What?” Kay said in a panic.

“Never mind, don't worry about it.” But Kay couldn't not worry. She couldn't say anything now without thinking about Branigan listening in. Spying on
her
. Mom said, “If you're not back in an hour and you don't call, I'm coming after you.”

Kay wanted to argue, but strangely, the idea comforted her. She couldn't just vanish. “Okay.”

She slid out of the car and started into the woods without looking back. She could feel her mother watching her.

 

Branigan and the others assumed she'd be able to contact Artegal as easily as calling him. That wouldn't work, so she had to come up with another plan. Start a bonfire and send smoke signals? That would attract attention—but probably not Artegal. That was exactly what she needed, to explain herself to a horde of strange dragons.

Even the dragons who'd been coming to the border didn't come to this section, the tumbling stream, the climbing rocks, the narrow glen. So, she was going to leave him a note. She'd already written it out and would tack it to a tree in the place where they'd first met, setting a meeting date for the weekend. She assumed he would come here, if he could. Just to check. She was guessing—hoping—that his people hadn't drafted him for their war or had restricted him or started watching him so he couldn't travel. Any of a million things could happen that would keep him from coming here. Part of her hoped he did stay away.

When the news carried footage of dragons soaring over other cities, racing away like rockets after they'd started fires, she studied them, searching for the lithe, slate gray and silver form of Artegal. She hadn't seen him yet.

She came to the creek and followed it upstream to the place where Artegal had fished her out that first day. The
creek was rimed with melting ice, and the log bridge was still there.

So was Artegal, a gray mound settled among the trees, wings tucked to his side, tail wrapped around him. He faced the creek, his neck raised, so he could watch the forest on the other side with those deep onyx eyes.

She stopped and stared for what seemed like a long time.

He lowered his head and blew a steaming breath.

“I've been waiting,” he said.

She almost hated to cross the border again, now that they knew about her and were watching. But she did, running straight across the log before she could change her mind. Artegal lowered his head so she wouldn't have to crane her neck back to see him. It felt as if years had passed, and she didn't know what to say. She'd
wanted
just to leave the note, like calling someone specifically to leave a message rather than talk to them. But she was so relieved to see him. She had so much to tell him—so much to ask about what had happened, what the dragons were doing. Her throat closed; she could hardly breathe.

“Are you well?” he asked. The first thing he'd ever said to her, months ago. What a strange question now.

“No,” she said, and started crying. Stumbling almost, she sat on the ground and buried her face in her arms. All this week, she hadn't cried. It came out now, all at once. Each time she tried to stop, to pull herself together, to talk to him, she choked, and the crying started all over again.

She felt a warm breeze, air smelling of iron and embers. Artegal hovered over her, a worried purr sounding deep in his throat.

“So much has happened,” she said, blubbering the words.

“Yes.”

She scrubbed her face. They had to talk, and they didn't have much time before her mother started worrying.

“They know about us,” she said. “They—the military—got pictures, and they were looking, and I finally just came out and told them because, because…”

“Because of the attack. The fire,” he said calmly. Not that he was ever anything but calm.

“Are you okay?” she said. She realized she couldn't do it. She couldn't keep secrets anymore, and she couldn't be a spy. The only way she could get the information was to come out and ask him what Branigan wanted to know, and then tell Artegal that the military wanted the information.

He didn't answer right away. Kay's heart sped up. She wondered if things would ever be the same after all this, if they would ever fly again. Already the few times they'd
flown together seemed like a memory from another life.

“Some elders say this was inevitable. That people and dragons could never live together. That war is inevitable.” The words sounded like an avalanche in his throat. “Some want to talk. But they are afraid.”

“I can't imagine you ever being afraid of us,” she said, looking up at him, as large as a bus, so powerful. “That's why the military's doing what it's doing, because it's afraid of
you
. They think they have to do this, before you do.”

Artegal sighed. “I wish dragons had remained in hiding.”

For a fierce, angry moment, so did she. Everything would be normal. She'd be talking with Jon and Tam about prom, college applications, and only one more year 'til graduation, and her father would still be here, and everything would be normal if the dragons hadn't come back. She wouldn't miss the flying because she wouldn't know that she should.

She started crying again.

“You're angry. At me,” he said. This time, she couldn't read the curl on his lip, the arc to his brow. She'd been able to read curious, amused, confused, glad. But not this.

“The fire—my dad.”
Don't say the words
, something in her cried.
Don't say it, don't make it true. Find a different way to tell him
. “I lost my dad.”

He tilted his head—the confused look. After a long silence, though, he lowered his head nearly to the ground. Almost, she was looking down on him.

“Tragedy?” he said, as if confused, seeking confirmation
for the vague way she'd told him.

She hid her face again. He waited for her to collect herself and reemerge.

“It was a warning,” he said. “To show that we are not afraid. The elders did not think your people would be so quick to reply.”

“So you knew about it,” she said. “You knew it was going to happen.”
And you didn't stop it, you didn't warn me, you didn't say anything.

“Not before. After. I almost told them about you. To persuade them not to do it again, if I could.”

“Could you? Would they have listened?” The human military finding out about her and Artegal hadn't stopped the bombings. Branigan was driven; he had plans, or else he wouldn't have wanted to her to spy.

Artegal didn't say anything, so she knew the answer was no. “Now it's too big to stop,” she said.

“And yet, you risked coming here. I hoped you might. I did not think you would.” He tilted his head—glancing up, she realized. He'd been glancing up every minute or so, looking for aircraft or dragons.

She told him, “They want me to spy. They keep bombing, but they don't know where to go. They don't know exactly where you live, and they want me to find out. I'm supposed to spy.”

“Surely they're watching now.”

Scrambling, she stood and looked around, through all
the trees, upward to the crisp blue sky. The forest was very quiet. She only heard Artegal breathing, like a whisper of air through the trees.

They could be anywhere. Soldiers hiding in the trees, waiting to strike. They wouldn't kill him, she quickly thought. They wanted to talk, they wanted contact with them, that was what they'd told her. But they might try to capture him.

And what if they did? Wouldn't everyone say that she was supposed to want revenge? Shouldn't she be feeling angry?

Her father used to say that his job wasn't about catching the bad guys so much as keeping the peace, that he got further by being friends with people than by being a hard-ass, that if the people in his jurisdiction felt like he was their friend, they wouldn't want to break the law. They wouldn't want to disappoint him, not because he was the sheriff, but because he was their friend.

Her mind moved quickly, turning over everything her father had said, any advice he may have given her about this. Also, what her mother said, about taking care of herself rather than worrying about the rest of the world. And what the military said, about staying out of jail and doing her duty. But she kept going back to what her father said about keeping the peace.

And she realized that the military
wanted
to keep her a secret. They hadn't released the photos or news that Kay and
Artegal had flown together because they didn't want anyone to know that a person and a dragon could work together, could be friends. But if people knew, if they saw—

“What are you thinking?” Artegal watched her. She'd frozen, standing still, staring at nothing as she pondered.

“Can you come back tomorrow?” she asked.

“If I am careful, yes.”

“We need to fly again,” she said.

He snorted. His eyes widened, and he raised his head—a gesture of surprise. “It won't stay secret.”

“We don't want it to. We want everyone to see. That means the military can't keep it secret, either. We want everyone to see it. Your people, my people, everyone.”

He thought for a moment. A back claw scratched a furrow in the earth. “Dangerous for us.”

It was. She couldn't pretend that it wouldn't be. She'd get in trouble with her people, he'd get in trouble with his. They may never see each other again. But it seemed worth it, just to show people what they could do.

She felt insane when she grinned and said, “Yeah, but if we don't, we'll always wonder if we could have made a difference.”

He made the curl in his lip that meant he was smiling. “For all their long years, dragons are not so daring.”

“Then you think we shouldn't—”

“I will be here tomorrow. Take care.”

“You too.” He was already backing up, turning his bulk
through the trees as he slipped away. She waited until she couldn't see him before she ran back.

When she reached the clearing where her mother had parked, Kay stopped at the edge of the trees and stared. Her mother was outside the car, leaning on the hood, a strained look in her eyes.

Two more cars—dark sedans with monochrome government plates—had pulled into the space behind her, and a group of men in uniform were milling around. General Branigan was there, leaning on one of the sedans, an echo of her mother. A couple of guys in olive green fatigues carried machine guns and seemed to be patrolling, moving around the fringes of the clearing and looking into the trees.

Artegal was right. They'd followed her. They were keeping track of her.

This was going to be hard. What she should have done was make herself look disappointed. She should have buried all her anticipation, excitement—and fear. She should have trudged back slowly and used the time to think of a story, either that she hadn't seen Artegal at all or that she had, but she couldn't convince him to tell her anything. But she hadn't thought of it, because her mind was racing with a plan. She considered lying to them, telling them that Artegal hadn't been there, she hadn't talked to him, and she would have to try again another time. But she didn't know how far they'd followed her or how much they'd seen and heard. She assumed they'd been too far away to hear, but she couldn't be sure. If
they'd heard the conversation, they'd know they couldn't trust her.

Kay's mother straightened, and her face suddenly shone with relief. “Kay?”

Kay met her and let herself be embraced. But she looked over Mom's shoulder at the military people, who studied her warily.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay?” Mom said.

“It's fine.”

A moment later, Branigan was standing next to them. “Well?”

Her mother stiffened, frowning with a spark of anger. Kay knew she'd protect her if she could. Kay didn't need anyone looking out for her; just the same, it made her feel stronger.

“‘Well' what?” Kay said.

“What happened?” Branigan said, enunciating, clearly frustrated.
Good
, Kay thought.

After a moment, Kay said, “Nothing.”

“Was it there? Did you talk to it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well?” Branigan demanded again. Kay thought that he probably didn't have kids.

She shrugged. “It's going to take time. I can't come out and ask how many dragons there are and where they live. I have to be sneaky about it, right? That's what spying's all about, isn't it?”

He glared. “I thought you said it was your friend.”

“
He
, not
it
,” she said softly. “I just need more time.”

“You don't have more time!” He was done being the nice, benevolent father-figure, which was okay, because Kay had been done with him a while ago. “I'm not going to sit by and let a kid like you play games when the fate of humanity is at stake.”

Was that at stake? The whole fate of humanity? Branigan was wrong, it didn't all depend on her, but the general had lost control of the big picture. All he could do now was harass her. Like her mother's anger, that knowledge made her feel stronger.

“There wouldn't be a problem if you had just left things the way they were,” Kay said.

“As long as those animals exist, humanity's in danger,” he said.

So, he was a bigot. That made dealing with him easier.

“Sir,” she said, because it would appease him, “I'll try again tomorrow. I'm coming back to talk to him then. I'll try again.”

“You're not telling it anything, are you?”

“I don't know anything
to
tell him.”

Branigan seemed satisfied at that. She thought,
What a small-minded man.
He thought he knew what she was thinking.

“I look forward to seeing some progress,” the general said. Kay nodded.

Branigan and his soldiers waited until Kay and Mom had
climbed in the car and began driving away before following them. They were probably being watched all the time now, which meant she'd have to be very careful when she brought the gear out next time.

After a few minutes, Mom said, “You
are
hiding something. What aren't you telling him?”

The general may have been clueless, but not her mother. Kay started to talk, then swallowed and tried again. “Mom, do you think there should be a war? Even after what happened…do you think we should fight them?”

Mom didn't speak right away. The tires hummed in the silence, trees rolled past the window, and Kay thought her mother wasn't going to answer. “I don't know, Kay. They were wrong to go after the town like that. It never should have happened. But then our side was wrong, too. I just don't know. But a war is going to do a lot of damage and hurt a lot more people. I think that would have upset your father.”

It wasn't the best answer Kay could have had. It wasn't a yes or no. This whole situation was muddy gray, and she felt as if she were being selfish, wanting to fly again and trying to justify it.

“I think we can stop it,” Kay said softly. “We want to try.”

“I don't like it,” Mom said, shaking her head. “I don't like the idea of you going off by yourself. I don't like thinking of you with dragons.”

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, but I couldn't.”

Her mother's eyes were red, like she'd been crying, the way they'd been for the last week, ever since the fire. “I'll tell you, though. I like Branigan even less.”

“They're watching us, aren't they? They're going to be watching the house. They'll know every time we leave and wherever we go.”

“That's what happens when you become interesting to them.” After a few more miles of driving, Mom continued, “They don't want to hurt you, Kay. I know they're jerks, and I know you don't like them, but they're following you to protect you. Think about it: If we know who your dragon is, then the dragons know who you are. What's to stop them from coming and taking you? From using you? I don't want you to go to jail, but at least I'd know where you were. The dragons, they could hold you hostage, they could—” The words stopped, and she covered her mouth.