In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2)

In The Lair of the Draca (Book 2) Chapter 34: Tease Not the Draca

"Look at them. Beauties!"

Dijaq cast Luka a sideways glance. He could not tell if the taller boy, who sat carelessly beside him on a large boulder over-looking the creek, was being truthful or sarcastic.

The boulder, a crooked, millenia-aged thing which was the same slate-grey color as Dijaq's troubled eyes, was hidden well by bolberry shrubs and a thick assortment of saplings. The two of them could perch quietly, unnoticed, and enjoy a spectacular view of both the creek and bank, with its assortment of cerulean- and lilac-colored blooms.

Both of them had spotted the Draca at about the same time; each animal was perhaps three times the size of a good, fat bull, and when the wings were fully extended, Dijaq felt as though the breath of life would be sucked right out of his bronchioles. Something distant within remembered those wings; the dreadful whoooshh they'd made as the Beast snatched his terrified mother and carried her away.

All three were the perfect shade of jade (lighter than the leaves which surrounded them). Their scaly, thick yellow talons gripped at the branches the way an owl clung to smaller boughs; star-light sparkled and scintillated off of their scales, in much the same manner as fresh water poured off the slippery bodies of fish that were sometimes netted for special occasions.

But what thrilled Dijaq the most was seeing the creatures this close: although they had perched in trees on the opposite side of Haven's Creek, they were visible only if one knew where to look-- and their heavy skulls, with the double-crested ridges and wide, all-knowing eyes, were enough to render one speechless. Even the birds, who had had ample time to get used to the presence of the Draca, dared not let loose a chirrup-- and fruit birds were rarely afraid of anything.

"'Beauties', you say? Do you think those things are beautiful?"

"They aren't ugly."

"They are Enemies. Enemies of the People. Dragura sends them every ten years to wreak havoc-- one of them might be the same beast that stole my mother. And you say they are 'beautiful'?" Dijaq kicked his legs like a bored little boy and sighed. They had both been sitting on the boulder for hours before the Draca drifted in over the tree tops and made themselves make-shift nests. Tuchek and Ziuta had been reclining on the bank, heads close together as they discussed some trivial affair, but when the monstrous shadows soared overhead, Tuchek had scrunched his shoulders and shivered. Ziuta, for her part, never even blinked.

"There is much on Weema that is beautiful," said Luka thoughtfully. Having brushed his hair with a wooden comb, he'd had time to pull it into a neater tie at the nape of his neck and prevent strands from blowing into his eyes. Now he sat, munching on a handful of old dates, as though observing dangerous dragons were an everyday activity.

"You cannot use 'beauty' and 'danger' in the same sentence," snapped Dijaq. He was beginning to grow tired of this, and he had to relieve himself, besides.

"Can't I?" Luka said, with that same brilliant, irksome smile. "What about your future wife?"

"Don't call her that!"

"Warumachek? Why not? She will find a way to marry you-- that girl always gets what she wants. If you had any sense, you would realize your good fortune and whip your limp man-parts into action. The girl is more beautiful than a frozen lake in the winter... but even a poisonous lizard would run away from her."

Dijaq scowled angrily into the wind. Luka was right, of course. Warumachek was beautiful, no matter how dangerous-- and her beauty was so legendary that it had often been said Waru was some sort of mistake at conception. Only a child from the gods could have been so beautiful, the old midwives would cackle...but the exhortations of her comeliness faded as the true blackness of Waru's heart was recognized. Warumachek's classic beauty bested even that of Ziuta's-- and Ziuta was a stunner-- but there was something about the Star Child that caught Dijaq's breath in his throat. No matter how many times he saw her, the dim flutter of dragonflies tickled his stomach.