What's a Dragon? - Chapter 42
Shelter
In Part 4 (Ch. 26-36), Emilie finally told everyone just what she was, and what that meant for the future of the town. More specifically, she let them know that there was a threat of extreme violence hanging over her head. To prepare, she’s been added to the high school’s combat training, while everyone else also gets ready for a fight.
Thankfully, the stadium doors weren’t barricaded or anything, just closed with a pair of guards immediately inside. I might be magically drained, but that’s a different kind of tired than at night or after physical training days. Opening the gym doors wasn’t hard, and I got the guards to go and bring the bear inside. Then I rejoined Shannon and she made me into a lizarkin again.
“Are you okay?” Shannon asks when I sit down instead of returning to my section. I can get my spear back after this.
“I – No.” What’s done is done, but I can’t help but think there must’ve been another way.
“What happened out there? The hole wasn’t big enough to see anything.”
The hole! I move my head enough to see—it’s closed now. Right, transformation spells could close it. That’s one less concern. I refocus on Shannon and realize she’s waiting on an answer. “I—” I breathe out. Taking a deep breath, I continue. “Star magic can do… more than I thought.”
Shannon pulls back and tilts her head, her tail stilling against the floor. “Uh… Weren’t you just supposed to hold him here? What happened?”
I – If I’m going to get help, I’ll need to talk about it. “He—I—I couldn’t move. And then, he—He started choking me. With magic.”
“And then your partner killed him?”
I look away. “I wish.”
Shannon just sits in silence for a few moments, and I wonder if I have to say anything more. I don’t want to. I close my eyes and take a deep breath once more—then immediately let it out all at once as I’m seized in a tight, but comforting, hug. But—Shannon hasn’t moved, so who—?
“Don’t worry,” comes from my captor. I’ve heard her voice before, but where? “You made the right choice.” I blink. The bird embracing me is Shannon’s mom! “I know it doesn’t feel right, but you had to. Him coming here the way he did proved it.”
“Mother?” I hear Shannon say.
The woman ignores her daughter and continues. “I know you must not think well of me.” There’s a short pause where I think she tried to snort. “I haven’t suddenly changed. But I do have experience in this area, and I know it’s hard. And I know you don’t have family who can relate, either. I have looked into my daughter’s friends. So.” She removes herself from me and moves to my front, putting the ends of her wing-arms on my shoulders. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, and I haven’t given you the time of day. But if things get to be too much, you just come over and talk, alright? I’ll listen to whatever you need to say.”
Shannon is looking bewildered, like her mother has never done anything like this before. Or maybe it’s just because it’s with me. Her mother, meanwhile, reminds me of Mom when Jess went to the hospital after giving me the feather that’s in my hand. I don’t know much about Shannon’s parents, but given her dad’s job it’s not hard to imagine her mom having done combat before. I’d rather talk with my family, but, well, it’s nice to know of someone who can relate, at least a little. “Okay,” I agree.
Bird faces are even less expressive than reptile ones, but I think Shannon’s mom is trying to smile at me. “With that done, don’t you think you should sit with your family? If you’re done fighting for today, I’m sure they’ll be glad to know you’re safe.”
I doubt I even have enough magic to shift again. It sure doesn’t feel like I do. “Yes. But I don’t know where they’re actually sitting.”
Shannon immediately brightens up. “I do! Follow me!” She stands and almost drags me to my feet, setting off immediately through the mostly-seated crowd of the space beneath the stands. Now that I think about it, she’s probably spent at least part of the time here with them. I can barely keep up until she finally stops in front of the forms I know to be my family and Jess’s.
“Emilie!” Al exclaims before rushing to embrace me. He’s not fluffy and warm like Shannon’s mom, but he is my brother and I’m very happy to see him, too. I return the hug as he wraps his very long tail around my legs all the way to my waist.
It might’ve been a minute or more before I opened my eyes and released Al. He dropped his arms in return, but his tail is still keeping me in place. “Um, Al?”
He looks at me. “Yes?”
“Your tail?”
“Ask your question first.”
“Question?”
He snorts lightly. “I know you, Emilie. We’re not the only ones you wanted to see.”
I look away. He’s right. And he’s holding me still because… he knows I’m not going to like the answer. I look to Mrs. Chesbrough, who is currently a bear and has pointedly moved next to me. “Is the bear okay?” I ask.
“He’s alive,” she answers in a way that suggests I have another question, which isn’t wrong.
“Who is he?”
“Chris Manning.”
“Coach!” I squirm, but Al holds me fast. “Al, let me go!”
He shakes his head. “You’re not a paramedic. You’re staying here, out of their way.”
“But, but—”
Mrs. Chesbrough plants a paw on my shoulder. “It’s thanks to you that he’s still alive, but right now he needs medical attention, not personal encouragement. You can visit him later.”
Al gives me a real hug again, and I take a few moments to calm down. I probably wouldn’t get very far even without him holding me here, thanks to the multitudes spread across the floor, even in their semi-organized blocks.
Mrs. Chesbrough removes her paw. “Before you ask, he chose this. You’re his student, and he insisted that he could not live with himself if he wasn’t there for you. He wasn’t Dante’s first pick, but he practiced for this fight just as much as you did.” I nod. He definitely was better than me at avoiding injury. Of course, he’s also a lot more experienced, and my injuries were a lot less permanent.
Sensing that part of the conversation is over, Al releases me—tail too, this time—and allows Mom and Dad to hug me in turn. “Now, I do have a question for you,” Mrs. Chesbrough prefaces. “Has anyone asked you about replenishment?”
I’m not sure what she means by that. “Replenishment?”
She sits back. Sometimes I forget bears can sit up like that. “It might not have come up in your lessons yet, but everyone regains their spent entropy at different rates. Does it work that way for Dragons?”
This was one of the first things I found in the Mymoir. I refresh my memory before answering. “Every Dragon replenishes their entropy at the same rate, but some can hold more than others, depending mostly on color.” If you can hold more, you have less range. Even in his large form, Brice could only work with things about half a mile away. But I only take five days to fill up, and he’d take over two weeks.
“Where does red sit on that scale?”
“It can hold more than blue, but less than orange.”
She sits still for a second and I get the distinct feeling that she’s relaying this to someone outside, much like Murphy did for me earlier. “Does that change in your larger form?”
I nod. “It drops to zero.”
“Zero?”
“There are books in the library that wonder how Dragons can live without the ability to eat. Well, inorganic monsters don’t eat, either, and they work in a similar way. The difference is that we don’t constantly lose entropy like they do. It just doesn’t replenish at all, either. If we want to use our magic to do more than just exist, we have to be small from time to time.”
She sits still again, confirming that she’s definitely talking with someone else. “What if you run out?”
Something explodes. Usually your dominant hand, it says, but I don’t want to take that risk. “Bad stuff. Martha won’t.” I’ve actively sought out Dragon records since third grade, and Martha and Brice have written about their tactics at least a little in the Mymoir. I took the opportunity to read about them in the past few months. “If Martha is running out of magic or reasonably believes she’ll lose, she’ll just leave without her army.”
“Without it? But she spent all that time…”
I shake my head. “I don’t know or understand why, but most Dragons despise monsters. Martha calls them ‘reckless’ and ‘expendable.’ She’s lost battles before and done the same thing. Her army is usually completely destroyed a little after she leaves.”
“How close do you think we are to that right now?”
Uh… I have no way to determine that. I haven’t been watching the battle and it’s not like I know how much entropy force spells take. I suppose I can check the public discussion section in the Mymoir?
«Flora: Brice lost.
«Martha: How can you tell from Europe?
«Flora: You should know that without my saying.
«Sven: Do you have any recommended reading?
«Flora: He made notes on Akiko’s lectures. He might have been younger than you or I, but I think he actually had a decent relationship with his father. What he is now, I mean, rather than the king he used to be.»
I resist the urge to read what Flora talked about. I’m looking for information on Martha. I can learn about Brice some other time.
«Steven: How is it going for you, Mom?
«Martha: This town has earned its reputation. They were prepared and I have not been able to contribute much directly.
«Sven: You’ve been fighting?
«Martha: The whelp can read this! Press me elsewhere!»
That’s the last line, so I guess they heeded her words. I open my eyes to answer my friend’s mom. “No idea. She hasn’t even said whether anyone’s fought her. She does seem frustrated by not being able to help much, which… might be a good thing? I’d have to ask Crane.”
“Who’s Crane?”
“A boy from my combat class who’d rather study physics. Red dragons are force dragons and if orange dragons can get rid of the air in your lungs, I worry about what a desperate red dragon could do.”
I feel Shannon move to my side. “Is that what happened? That caused… what you said?” she whispers in my ear, and I nod.
Mrs. Chesbrough’s eyes go wide. “Martha is moving,” is her only explanation.
“Away?” I ask, hopeful.
“No. She’s flying over town.”
Alarmed, I look towards the ceiling. There are bleachers in the way from here, which is good for this little group but not good for the people on top of them. And not good for this little group if whatever Martha plans takes the bleachers into account.
Jess’s mom catches my gaze and understands immediately. “Shields! Now!” she shouts with amplification moments before her words are drowned out by tearing and collapsing metal.