XXVIII
1266 Words
XXVIII
Miri stepped back as Old Dark snapped at his cage. The dragon broke a tooth, and it bounced across the floor.
“What do you mean I’m in the future?” he yelled.
“A lot has changed since your reign,” Miri said. “But some things are the same. That is why we can understand each other.”
This had been, to date, the most exciting day of her career. How many scholars got to interview their favorite historical figures? She resisted the urge to bury her head in her notebook and comment on Dark’s every move. She regretted that she hadn’t set up a camera to record the encounter.
“If this place is the future, then I am its lord,” Dark said.
“No. There are no more dragon lords,” Miri said.
The words hit Dark like an attack. He was out of breath from snapping at the cage, and the exchange was draining him of all the energy he had regained after eating.
He’s not what he used to be, Miri told herself.
Old Dark must have been fearsome in the days of his reign. A big black dragon with a massive wingspan. If you saw those wings flapping in the sky late at night, you were in trouble.
Now, he was the equivalent of an old man. He had missing teeth, dry scales, one of his wings was broken, and he only had one eye.
She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. She wanted to help him recover. But in the back of her mind, all of her research told her, Be careful. He’s not your typical dragon.
“If this is the future, I demand more proof,” Dark said.
Miri walked over to the television screen and turned up the volume. Footage of Governor Grimoire streamed across the screen.
“That is our governor,” she said.
Dark regarded her statement. “A governor ... as in, one who governs? He’s your elder, then.”
The term “elder” made Miri shudder. Elves no longer arranged their society like that. The word made her think of mass suicides and mounds and mounds of bodies.
“He is an elder, but not in the sense that you’re thinking,” Miri said.
“Hmm,” Dark said, watching intently.
The governor shook hands and stood on a platform giving a speech, gesturing bombastically.
“He looks like an elder to me,” Dark said.
“Elves no longer live in villages,” Miri said. “Fifty years after your curse, they gathered in big numbers. They now live in cities.”
“Which are?”
“Really really big villages.”
“So that explains the large metal and glass huts.”
“They’re called high-rises,” Miri said. “Or skyscrapers. But yes. The early cities were comprised of huts. Elves evolved over time. They created new tools and learned from humans how to build stronger buildings.”
“You refer to elves as ‘they.’ You, too, are elven, are you not?”
“I have elven blood, yes, but my mother was a human,” Miri said.
Dark gasped. Then he laughed. “Oh, this is something. Elves lying with humans. Never in my reign did I imagine that. If you have human blood, how in the world do you use magic then, girl?”
The sarcasm in his voice irked her. She didn’t know if he actually believed her.
“I can cast magic,” she said. “But if I have children, they may not be able to. Soon, within the next few decades, no one will be able to use magic.”
“As it should be,” Dark said, scowling.
“Do you believe what I am telling you, or are you testing me?” Miri asked.
Dragon tactics. Sometimes you had to be unpredictably blunt.
She had taught Dragon Communication 101 for ten years. You had to approach them like you approached a wild animal: with compassion. But unlike the case with most animals, you also had to have the willingness to do harm. Otherwise they wouldn’t take you seriously.
Old Dark grinned. “You, my dear, understand dragons far more than any elven woman I’ve ever met.”
“Am I wasting my time trying to help you?”
“Your mythology,” Dark said, “is interesting.”
“It’s not mythology,” Miri said.
“Anything that does not revolve around me is mythology,” Dark said.
“The world no longer revolves around you.”
“Then tell me who is in charge of this so-called future.”
How was she going to explain the concept of democracy? Sometimes she didn’t even understand it.
“No one in particular is in charge,” she said. Everyone lives according to a set of laws. We have leaders, but they aren’t lords.”
Dark laughed again. “What kind of society doesn’t thrive on power? Force! That is the only language you elves understand. And what of dragons? Why haven’t they sorted you out?”
Miri frowned. “Dragons are not the same as they used to be.”
“I demand that you stop being cryptic.”
“They no longer wield control of magic,” Miri said.
Dark blew smoke from his nostrils.
“Explain yourself or I will send you and your friend into flames,” Dark said.
He was bluffing. Dragons could breathe fire, but to do so in such close quarters would mean his own death, too. He wouldn’t be able to escape from the cage if he set the place on fire. He didn’t strike her as a suicidal soul, no matter how angry he was.
“You wouldn’t dare burn me,” she said, taking one step closer to the cage.
At her words, the smoke wafting from his nose stopped. And then a fist-sized flame leapt into his mouth from his throat, and he blew it in her face. The flame stopped just inches in front of her, and she felt the volcano-like warmth, as if someone had brought a furnace next to her face and then turned it off quickly.
Her face tingled and she wanted to feel it to make sure she was okay, but she held her ground and never took her eyes off Dark.
“That is a cruel thing to do to the woman who is helping you,” Miri said.
“I don’t need your cursed help!” Dark shouted.
“Then I’ll be quiet and you can keep wondering what happened to the rest of your race,” Miri said. “Good luck figuring it out from your cage. Come on, Earl.”
Earl gave her a look so as to say “you’re not serious,” but Miri about-faced, slung her purse over her arm and strode to the door.
Earl’s heavy, labored footsteps sounded behind her.
“Uh, Miss, are you sure—”
Miri shushed him.
She walked two hundred feet to a pair of double doors, and had her fingers wrapped around the handle when Dark called out to her.
“Oh oh, aren’t you a fiery one, my girl? Return to me.”
“Under one condition!” Miri shouted, not looking back.
“I am the only one with the authority to set conditions,” Dark said.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
Dark chuckled.
“Are you listening?” Miri asked impatiently.
“I am listening, dear.”
Miri said nothing.
“Were you going to speak?” Dark asked.
“I don’t answer to ‘dear.’ I’m not your subject, and if you think you can treat me like one, I’ll make sure you get nothing else to eat.”
Dark chuckled again. His low-pitched laugh was sarcastic, sinister, and it unsettled her. However hurt he was, his legendary manipulation tactics were still at their height.
“I will tell you everything I know as long as you tell me everything you know,” Miri said.
A long pause.
“What could you possibly want to know about me that isn’t already exalted to the heavens?” Dark asked.
“That’s for me to decide, not you.”
Another long pause.
She pushed on the handle, and a metal clicking reverberated throughout the open factory floor.
“Goodbye, Mr. Dark,” she said.
She had one foot out the door when the dragon yelled for her.
“Return. I accept your terms.”
“Really?” Miri said, trying to project disbelief.
“Yes. I give you my word,” Dark said. “Now, return and tell me what happened to my race before I set this place on fire. I deserve to know.”
Miri turned around and walked back to the cage, grinning.
- Writer
