Dragon Scales (2 page)

Amantea wriggled, fighting against the grasp of the dragon. The dragon abruptly let him go, and Amantea landed hard in the palm of his other hand. Before Amantea could do more than blink, the dragon caged him with his other hand. The dragon lifted his hands so Amantea was on eye-level with him, giving Amantea an up close look at his pretty red eyes. "Depths take you, I told you to stay."

Crossing his arms, Amantea glared back. His heart was hammering and he was shaking, but hopefully the dragon couldn't tell that. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to die acting like a coward.

"Whelps," the dragon muttered, lowering Amantea. He held Amantea out in front of him, holding him gingerly, and started to walk back to where he'd been when Amantea had shifted. Amantea slumped. He should've stepped into the grass first. Or taken off his shirt first. Then he would've made it.

Each of the dragon's steps jarred Amantea, rattling him hard enough he was sure his teeth were going to shake their way free. The dragon didn't seem to notice, and Amantea eventually had to uncross his arms to brace himself against the dragon's palm. He should've listened to the clan and stayed at home, not dragged himself out to catch a dragon.

Still, it was better than sitting at home, pretending they could fix the problem by talking about it.

The dragon made a soft noise then, distracting Amantea from his thoughts. It was a soft, inquisitive chirrup, and Amantea peered out of his makeshift cage, wondering what had caught the dragon's attention.

He was lifted up again in the next second, and the dragon glared at him. "I'm going to put you down. You'll shift back to your large form. If you don't, I'll step on you."

Amantea crossed his arms and glared again. He'd do it, but only because he didn't want to be squashed. What
was
the dragon going to do with him?

"Say you understand." The dragon shook his hands, rattling Amantea like he was a pair of dice.

"I understand," Amantea spat out, the words sour on his tongue. He yelped when the dragon abruptly knelt, grabbing onto the claw-tipped finger that was closest to him. Then the dragon was gently tipping him onto the lake shore. Amantea tumbled, landing on his hands and knees.

A small, glittering orb a few feet away caught his eye, and Amantea stared at it, enchanted. It was beautiful. Silver and sparkling, it caught the sun with a thousand facets. It was as big as he was in this form, and Amantea had no idea what it was other than gorgeous.

The dragon nudged him with a finger. "Change."

Amantea fell over, startled out of his reverie. Huffing a sigh, he straightened his hat, and with one last glance at the orb, he shifted back to his larger form. He had no wings in this form, so running or shifting again was going to be his only chance at escape. But maybe the orb was worth something? Something enough to save his forest?

"What is it?" Amantea asked, staring at it.

"Dragon blood," the dragon said, and Amantea recoiled. He fell, tripping on the uneven lake shore and landing on his ass again. He was going to have bruises there, he knew it. The dragon heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes. He muttered something under his breath that didn't sound complimentary, but Amantea didn't care. That was dragon's blood?

"Is it yours?" Amantea asked, ignoring the fact that not too long ago he'd been planning to—somehow—kill the dragon.

The dragon looked down at himself—and yes, he was still naked, which was a reminder that Amantea did
not
need—and snorted. "No. Now when I say stay..." He trailed off, looking at Amantea expectantly.

"Fuck you," Amantea replied, which only made the dragon roll his eyes.

"I'll throw you in the lake," the dragon threatened. He glared at Amantea, and Amantea glared back. He didn't want to drown, but he wasn't going to act like the scared nestling the dragon thought he was. The dragon only rolled his eyes, ordering him again, "
Stay.
"

Amantea tugged his cap down when the dragon edged closer to the ball of dragon's blood. Did all dragon's blood do that? Or was there something special about this one? Amantea didn't know, but the dragon was approaching it as though it might explode, so Amantea scrunched up to protect himself if it did prove to be dangerous.

The dragon glanced at him briefly but didn't say anything as he reached it. He muttered something softly under his breath, reaching out one claw-tipped finger—and the orb of dragon's blood shifted, rippling under his touch. It dissipated a second later, like steam from a hot bath.

Amantea rested his chin on his knees, staring at the spot. It was completely gone, as though it had never been. He hadn't known that dragons knew magic of any sort, but that had been magic. So had the dragon busting out of the pocket world Amantea had put him in. How was Amantea going to get out of this when the dragon was obviously older and more experienced than he was and he knew nothing about dragons and what they could do? Maybe he should throw himself through an unanchored portal and hope he came out of it somewhere he could find his way home?

A last resort, Amantea decided, even as the dragon stomped back over to where he sat. With his luck, he'd port himself to the bottom of an ocean or into a volcano like his mother was always telling him his grandfather had done.

"Get up."

Amantea did. He'd keep following orders for now, since it didn't seem like the dragon was going to kill him yet. The dragon would give him another chance to slip away, and then Amantea could figure out what to do next.

"Come on," the dragon muttered, but he didn't wait for Amantea to move. Instead, he reached out, grabbed Amantea by the wrist, and started dragging him further down the lake shore. His grip was tight, but his skin was oddly soft. Amantea stumbled along after him as he continued to round the lake.

There was no more dragon's blood on the shore. They circled the entire lake, the dragon growing more and more angry the further they got. Amantea's wrist and arm ached, but he wasn't stupid enough to complain, given how irate his captor was.

Once they were back to where they had started, the dragon dragged Amantea into the grass, back the way he'd come. He shot Amantea a look, as though daring him to complain, but Amantea only glared back. They passed through the trap circle, and Amantea spotted a few of his mushrooms lurking in the grass, smaller and less vibrant now their spell had been cast.

"Where are you taking me?" Amantea asked as they passed through the trap circle. He didn't know what was past that; he'd come through the woods on the other side of the lake, not from the mountains on the far side.

"Somewhere you can't cause more trouble," the dragon said, which didn't bode well. Amantea debated the merits of trying to escape again—they were in the long grass now, and he could shift rapidly—but the dragon's grip tightened on his wrist suddenly, and the dragon had turned to face him, red eyes blazing. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"You are, though," Amantea said, tugging at his arm, though he had no expectation the dragon would let him go. His heart hammered faster, and Amantea thought it might burst if he had to endure too much more excitement or fear that day.

The dragon dropped his arm as though he'd been burned, a frown curving his lips. He captured Amantea's hand before he could pull it back, lifting it to stare at the shadows of bruises on Amantea's wrist. He exhaled, a long, steady breath. "Fucking Depths, I forget how fragile you flits are."

"I'm not a flit," Amantea snarled, yanking his hand out of the dragon's. "And I'm not fragile."

"You're not a dragon," the dragon retorted. "A dragon wouldn't have bruised. Ergo, you're fragile."

"Fuck you," Amantea said. He needed to come up with a better retort. He curled his bruised wrist close to his chest. How much more could go wrong today? Heavens help him, he wanted to be home, safe, with no threat of his home being destroyed hanging over his head. Not in the company of a dragon who was... what, going to eat him? Amantea didn't know.

"Too young for me," the dragon said, giving Amantea an appraising look. Amantea scowled, both at the insinuation and the idea that he was young. He wasn't
that
young. The dragon threw up his hands, acting as though Amantea was being the unreasonable one. "I have a house. It's over there." He pointed toward the mountain they'd been heading for. "You will come with me, answer questions, and then leave and do whatever you want that's not trapping dragons."

"You're going to let me go," Amantea said, not even trying to hide his disbelief.

"Yes," the dragon hissed, the 's' stretching out several seconds. "I don't eat your kind, and I don't believe in senseless killing."

Amantea hesitated. Would killing him be senseless, given he'd trapped the dragon in a pocket world and had planned to kill
him
?

"Just go," the dragon said, gesturing impatiently. "I have something to fix your fragile skin, too."

"I'm not fragile," Amantea retorted before he could stop himself. He lingered still, but he doubted the dragon would just let him go if he said no. They'd probably be back to the dragging method, and Amantea's wrist was already very sore.

"Thin-skinned," the dragon muttered, watching him suspiciously as he walked toward the mountain. Amantea kept his mouth shut, not wanting to give the dragon any more reason to call him young.

The walk was long, made worse by the thick, long grass they had to fight through. Amantea occasionally thought he could see the tracks of the dragon in his larger form, but mostly he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. The walk took more effort than Amantea thought it should, but then, he
was
used to flying most everywhere.

The dragon occasionally growled or muttered behind Amantea, but Amantea pointedly ignored him. It wasn't difficult, as he kept going back to thoughts of what he could do to raise the money next. He certainly wasn't going dragon hunting again; that had turned out abysmally, and Amantea doubted a second attempt would go any better. It might, in fact, turn out worse, if the next dragon proved to be more murderous.

Not that he was all that assured that this dragon wasn't murderous and he wasn't walking himself right into a trap. Still, it was his best option for the moment. Trying to run would get him squashed. If they got to the dragon's home and the dragon tried anything, Amantea would throw himself into an unanchored portal and hope for the best.

The terrain grew steeper as they drew closer to the mountain, but the dragon never slowed. He occasionally muttered or snarled half-audible words that made no sense. Amantea ignored him, figuring if the dragon had something to say to him, he'd say it, not mutter it.

Amantea was starting to wonder where the dragon's home actually was when they neared a thick copse of trees and the dragon snagged his arm again. Gently, this time, like Amantea was fragile and his arm might snap at the slightest provocation.

"Hold still," the dragon said, a rough grumble in his voice that sent shivers down Amantea's spine. Amantea opened his mouth, but the dragon touched a claw to the center of his forehead and started muttering. It took Amantea a few seconds to realize the dragon wasn't speaking in any language that he recognized. A warm, soft sensation washed over Amantea, and he shivered again, resisting the urge to back away from the dragon.

"Come," the dragon said, shoving him gently toward the copse of trees—which were no longer trees. A stout building of gray stone stood where the trees had been. Behind it, a sheer cliff stretched up, pockmarked with small holes were a few birds were roosting. The house itself was dwarfed by the cliff, but it dwarfed Amantea, stretching upwards to seven or eight times his height.

The tall grass reached almost up to the side of the house, but there were no flowers, no trees, nothing to make it a home instead of a building in the middle of nowhere. There were windows, but they were dressed plainly, with no dangling violets or fuchsia in window boxes in the sills. It looked lonely and sad, and Amantea itched to add color and life—except that wasn't why he was there.

The dragon stepped around him when they neared the front of the house, opening the door and preceding Amantea inside. Amantea briefly debated making a break for it, but he went in, curious to see what the inside of a dragon's house looked like.

It was boring. The entire house was one open room—probably so there was room for the dragon in his larger form. There was smaller furniture set up by the walls, but the center of the room was open. The walls were as gray and boring inside as they were outside, and the furniture was all plain, wooden bits, with no color and nothing to make the house feel alive.

"Sit." The dragon pointed at a bench by the front door, set up in front of a table that held several books and papers.

Amantea did as he was told, looking curiously at the books. The titles were written in strange characters he couldn't interpret, and the papers he picked up were written in the same. Dragon language, probably, though Amantea had never seen it before so he wasn't sure.

"Put that down," the dragon snarled, stomping back across the room rapidly. He'd dressed, sort of, by wrapping a length of fabric around his waist and knotting it at the hip. The fabric was black, embroidered with silver swirls and loops, which contrasted vividly with his bright red scales.

"What is it?" Amantea asked, setting the pages down slowly.

"Nothing," the dragon said, staring at him suspiciously. "What's your name?"

"What's your name?" Amantea countered. He crossed his arms, feeling defensive again. What did the dragon want from him? Would he really let Amantea go after he asked his questions?

"Isaia." He glared at Amantea, as though that had been a painful admission. "What's your name?"

"Amantea."

"Amantea," Isaia repeated, and Amantea didn't like the way he said it, soft and with a bit of growl to his voice, like he anticipated making a snack of Amantea in the very near future. "Why did you try to trap me in a pocket world?"

Amantea shrugged. What was he supposed to say? He doubted Isaia would care that Amantea's entire clan was in danger and catching a dragon was the only way Amantea could afford to save them.