Out of the Ashes
"Quinn! Quinn!"
Quinn Abercromby left off hoeing the spring garden, and turned in time to see Jared staggering towards him. The brown-haired teen looked troubled; he barely made it to Quinn before collapsing with exhaustion.
"Hold on, take it easy for a moment," said Quinn, catching Jared and easing him to the ground. "What's this all about?"
"Dr…dra…dragon," Jared gasped. Quinn made to stand up, but Jared stopped him. "Wait! It's different…pale skin…small…it's been hiding…in a…nearby cave."
"Hiding?"
Jared nodded. He was still breathing raggedly. "Hardly ever leaves. Liam's…seen it once or twice."
"And you said it's albino?" pressed Quinn. The victory in London had been over a year ago, and it had been several months since Northumberland had seen any dragon at all. They'd never had one like this, though.
Jared coughed, and drew a deep, shuddering breath. "'S what Liam said. Like a ghost, almost. But it never goes far from the cave."
"Hmm, sounds like it might be sick. Sick doesn't mean less dangerous, though. When you think you're ready, we'll walk home, grab supplies, and go put it out of its misery."
Within an hour the mission was underway. Between them, Quinn and Jared had a rifle each, a crossbow, the rest of the explosive arrows, and Van Zan's ax. Quinn hoped it would be enough. His past had taught him not to underestimate dragons. Buried in his thoughts, he hardly noticed they'd reached the outcrop, or the wary look Jared shot him.
"What now?"
"We split up," whispered Quinn. "If we stay together, take a hit, we're dead. Over. Done with. But if you stay here and I cross to those rocks, we'll have the two-to-one advantage. Don't lock 'n' load until I reach my destination. If all goes well, it'll never know you were here."
Jared nodded. Quinn prayed the beast wouldn't choose the moment to stroll outside, and bolted across the open space. He was almost there when a white flash appeared in his peripheral vision.
The dragon, maybe half a meter taller than Quinn at the shoulder, came hissing out of the cave. It caught Quinn off guard—startled, he twisted, tripped, and felt an agonizing pain around his left ankle as he went down backwards. The dragon crept closer.
"Quinn!"
Gunfire split the air from Jared's position. The dragon stopped, weighing the two threats. Finally, it decided on Jared. Quinn opened his mouth to yell.
"No! Stop!"
But it was not Quinn who shouted. A teenage girl came bolting out of the cave, and placed herself squarely between Jared and the dragon. To Quinn's utter amazement, the dragon stopped. Had it understood her?
"What do you think you're doing?!" Jared yelled incredulously.
This time Quinn heard it—a quiet, hissing sort of language being exchanged between human and reptile. He thought he'd seen it all. Then a sharp throb from his ankle reminded him that there were other issues as well. He braced for the worst. A jagged gash ran midway up the side of his calf, where a sharp rock had sliced through his trouser leg. He could also feel his ankle swelling rapidly within the boot. A sprain. Suddenly Jared appeared at his side.
"You okay Quinn?" He surveyed the damage, then cast about around them. Meanwhile, the girl marched up to them with her hands on her hips.
"Can I help you? We kept away from your precious hideout, stayed out of your way. And yet you come up here with guns and axes. What did we do to you?" she demanded. Quinn noted her Irish accent.
"I'm sorry; we expected trouble when we spotted the dragon," he explained. "I have a responsibility to protect this community. Sometimes it means one less dragon."
The girl eyed their weapons, the ax in particular, and fixed them with an angry stare. "You're a dragon slayer, aren't you?" she said in a menacing tone. The dragon uttered a low hiss to match.
"I'm not going to kill the dragon, I promise," Quinn assured her. "Now, how'd you end up here in England? Travel of any kind has been too dangerous for years, and your accent is just a little conspicuous."
"Flew," the girl answered simply. "This is Bryne. It's Old English for—"
"Fire," Quinn finished.
"Yes," she said waspishly. "And I'm Nadia. Anyway, it wasn't that difficult, even for a dragon this small. They have amazing stamina under most circumstances."
"Impressive."
"How is it you can talk to her?" asked Jared. "Teach her, or something?"
"Dragons have their own language, I just took the time to learn it," Nadia snapped. "Bryne, being small and albino, was set apart among her kind. So I befriended her. She's grown to like humans, really."
Jared shrugged, and started fiddling with his rifle.
"What are you doing?" asked Quinn.
"Making a splint," the boy replied without looking up. He emptied out the ammunition. "I figured the shoulder straps and my belt should secure it tight enough."
Bryne made a series of hisses and soft guttural sounds.
"She says she could carry you, if you like," Nadia translated. She didn't sound too thrilled.
Quinn found himself staring right into the dragon's eyes. Unlike the other dragons', this one's were a clear green. There was the intelligence he'd feared for over twenty years, hidden from, tried to stamp out. But there was something else he'd never noticed before—emotion. This dragon was concerned for him.
"Yes, I'd like that," he answered, nodding to make sure Bryne understood. She nodded back, and waited patiently for Jared to finish making the splint. Quinn had never seen a dragon stay in one place for so long. A curious thought rose in his mind. "How do you feed her?"
"Fire, of course," said Nadia. She was adjusting some kind of homemade saddle. "She'll start a small one, I cook my own dinner, then she burns the rest down to ash. Safer to sleep in the dark, anyway. Her body keeps me warm enough."
Quinn noticed for the first time that Nadia only had dirty jeans, a very old, long-sleeved shirt, and equally worn Chuck Taylors. How long had this girl survived on her own?
"Bryne's ready when you are."
"Just a moment," said Quinn. He pulled out a battered radio and turned it on. "Alex? Are you still there?"
"Copy that, Quinn," a female voice responded through the static. "What's up?"
"I want everyone inside for a few minutes. Tell them it's a drill, since we haven't seen a dragon in so long."
"Why?"
"I'm bringing one in."
"What?! Are you crazy?!"
"Maybe," muttered Quinn. "But there's a girl as well; she's found some way to tame 'em or talk to 'em or something. I don't think she'll hurt anyone."
"The girl?"
"The dragon, Alex." Quinn was losing patience as his ankle throbbed with increasing intensity. "Just get them downstairs. We're coming in." He snapped the radio off and tucked it away. "Now, let's go."
"There's only room for her to carry you," said Nadia. "I'm more than happy to walk. Are you sure she'll be safe coming in?"
"I'm the one in charge," Quinn replied dryly. He accepted help to mount the unusual steed. "Besides, they should all be underground when we get there. I'll see you two soon."
Nadia coaxed Bryne on with a hiss, and the dragon lifted off the ground effortlessly. It was like nothing Quinn had ever experienced before. Every movement was smooth and graceful—like a bird of prey. He shuddered involuntarily. That metaphor applied all too well.
"Interesting character," Nadia commented as she watched Bryne soar away. "Is he your father?"
"What? Oh, no. He found me in a ruined village when I was little," said Jared. "Sort of been a father to me though, I guess. I'm sorry, we never finished introductions. I'm Jared, and his name was Quinn."
"I gathered that from you and the radio, but it's nice to meet you, Jared. Nice to meet any other humans, really."
"Are there none left in Ireland?"
"I wouldn't know," shrugged Nadia. "Grew up on a farm that was all but completely isolated from the world. Even the dragons didn't find it until I was six, now I'm nearly eighteen. I remember playing with animals near a cave—I've always had this talent with animals—and coming back to find the smoldering ruin that used to be our property. Everyone else had either been in the house or working in the field. Two weeks later I found Bryne, hiding herself in another cave. She'd come off worse in a scrape for food, so she was too tired and rattled to think of me as a threat. I'd never seen a real dragon before then, and it didn't take long to figure out she understood me.
"From then on, we were inseparable. We knew we needed each other to survive, being outcasts of our relative societies. Now our bond has grown so deep that we can practically read each other's thoughts."
"So what brought you over here?"
"Curiosity more than anything. The rise of the dragons could only continue for so long. I wanted to see what was left, especially of London. My gran used to tell stories of living in London. But enough about me. What's your life like?"
Jared shrugged. "Most of us are survivors Quinn and his friends picked up in their travels. We settled in the Northumberland castle because it provided a ready-made shelter. The tunnels underneath were shored up and fitted with water systems, to withstand direct attacks from dragons. It was all about outlasting them, until Van Zan showed up. He was an American dragon slayer, bent on finding and taking out the male dragon. There was only one, you know."
"He hunted dragons? Like they were something to be gotten rid of?" Nadia interrupted. She looked disgusted.
"Yeah." Jared felt really uncomfortable under her fierce gaze. "Died fighting to the last. Personally, I think he was a nutter with a death wish. But he convinced us to do more than just hide. We've been working to make contact with other survivors, bring everyone together. It's been almost a year now."
"So you don't kill dragons anymore?"
"Not since they found the male one in London. That was Quinn's doing—don't get him wrong!" Jared added the last part hastily, throwing his hands up. "It was more a matter of personal revenge. Quinn was the first to see him, you see. He was down in a construction project when it woke the dragon up, and the only survivor. It killed his mum that day. Eventually came and attacked the castle, too. He would never be at peace unless the score was settled."
"I see," Nadia said to the ground. "He did have a sort of haunted look about him."
"Now he's just focused on rebuilding," Jared assured her, "Unless it's a matter of safety for the community. That's the only reason we came up here."
Nadia remained silent, which gave Jared the opportunity to really study her for the first time. She wasn't very tall, dressed in filthy clothes that probably wouldn't last much longer. A chain with a small, black, Celtic cross hung around her neck. Her hair, cut short and rough, was reddish-brown and curly. Then there were her eyes. The late-afternoon light played tricks with them—sometimes they were this amber-brown, other times more hazel. They had yet to fail to light up when she was determined or passionate about something, though. Given the chance to clean up, Jared supposed she would be very pretty. Plus, she had described herself as only a few months younger than he was. As long as he could remember, they'd never come across anyone his age. Anyone alive, that is.