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“Draagon. Oh, yees, I know of dem. Long ago, dey say, draagons rule de world. Before demen came.”
“Demen?”
“De’ men. Demen, dey go in sheeps, of wood and net.” The sea turtle pushed himself a little farther along the sand, building a wave of it in front of him, as if he were some great vessel traveling through the water. “De’ world theirs now.”
“Men don’t rule the world. They live on it, same as the rest of us. They hardly go in the Lower World, and they don’t control the Upper One.”
“Ha! Eveery yeear is moore men. Moore sheeps. Eveen on de’ old draagon isle, amoong the mists. De inlaand oceean is deers now.”
“Inland ocean? What’s that?”
The turtle waved a flipper. It could hardly be called an impatient gesture, slow as it was, but its voice cracked. “Hatchlings! Same with sea turtlees. Queestions. Dis, all dis wateer. Inlaand oceean. I go in heem, follow de summar across de waatar. Demen alwaays, eveen wheere elvees leeved. Draagons, too.” The sea turtle dropped its head, exhausted from long speech.
“Even on this dragon isle?”
Auron had to wait for two more pushes through the sand for an answer.
“Yees, I stay away, no place for eggs, seence long ago. Draagons gone now, just de’ men. You want adveece of old tuurtle, hatchling, you staay far from de’ men. Faar.”
“Where do the dragons live now?”
The sea turtle said nothing; it had reached the point where water flowed up and around it. It went another body-length through the sand, inspired by the waves’ touch.
“Where do dragons live now?” Auron repeated.
“Dis place, seence you here. Not know otheers.”
Auron felt the waves pull at his ankles. The wash of the sea seemed a constant, menacing hiss. His claws sank into the sand. He wanted dry land, mountains, and forests around him, real caves, rather than crannies between piles of rocks. Not an island of birds and fishermen. He watched the sea turtle catch another wave and swim, transformed from a plodding lump of horn to a graceful aquatic. It didn’t so much as say good-bye.
He switched to swimming in the bay. He wanted to find a way east, to the forests and then the mountains. Then he could go south to more familiar lands. Finding Wistala and Father was but a faint hope, but it was the only hope he had. Then there was Hazeleye’s tantalizing story of NooMoahk. What was this great weakness of dragons? Was it why they were dwindling from the world?
If he could find the right sort of river, he could feed himself on fish for much of the journey. There were three rivers flowing into the island—sheltered bays at breaks in the cliffs, all had settlements similar to the one whose garbage he raided when he first arrived.
The group of dolphins who had rescued him came alongside in one of his explorations. He recognized some of the faces from that night, so long ago in the reckoning of a hatchling. They gathered, the males swimming loops around him while the females and their calves kept a respectable distance.
Auron slept at one of the freshwater cascades splashing down the rocky cliffs. There were frogs everywhere in the pools of spray that night. He absently snapped them up as he considered his choices. He would have to climb the cliffs again and go overland as best he could. He’d just hurry to the forests; it couldn’t all be man country from here to the mountains.
The fishing boats were in sight again at dawn, four of them working their nets. He took care to dive deep as he fished for his morning meal, only surfacing for air in masses of floating seaweed. Tiny fish sheltering in the green coils dashed away in all directions as he entered the mass.
As he relaxed with just his nostrils poking up from the seaweed, his ears picked up a strange underwater screaming. It took him a moment to make out the sound of Dolphin speech, so different was it from their usual clicks and squeaks. It came from the fishing boats.
So the men hunted dolphins as well as dragons!
Auron’s nostrils flared, and he ground his loose hatchling teeth, already being replaced by larger ones coming in. It was a hard world. Small fish were eaten by bigger fish, and the bigger fish were in turn eaten by the dolphins. It was not surprising that man ate the dolphins. A hard world.
Auron dived. A hard world for men killing the creatures who saved his life!
His water-lidded eyes made out layers of nets around the dolphins, and the boats around the layers of nets. Perhaps the men had fed the dolphins, tempting to come closer and closer until one day they could use their nets. Or the dolphins had blundered into them. A few males swam outside the nets, circling frantically, and Auron saw a dead dolphin hauled to a ship by its tail, a harpoon projecting from its back. Blood tinted the water pink.
The sight of nets only increased his fury. Ancient—to a hatchling—wrongs gave his slender frame a hot strength. He tore into the nets circling the dolphins, a mad dervish of claw and tooth. He grabbed strand after strand in his jaws and pulled back; his rows of serrated teeth parted even the wet, limp lengths of netting.
The dolphins didn’t know what to make of him. The netted ones shrank away from his thrashings, and it wasn’t until one of the males went through the ever-widening gap and back out again that the rest got the idea.
Auron needed air, and he surfaced within the nets as far from the boats as he could. Shouts sounded across the surface of the bay. A harpoon arced toward him, soaring into the air before nosing over and diving like a kingfisher. Though deadly at a few yards, a harpoon was not a weapon for this kind of work, and it fell impotently into the sea.
He went under again as the men drew in their nets in an attempt to catch him. He swam furiously at the approaching web.
Anger hinders wit, which you will need to prevail, he heard Mother singing. The net was not the enemy; the enemy was the arms of men hauling it toward him. He turned away, but another net seemed to swim up from behind as the men handled their boats to trap him. He dived straight down, and the nets came together in a tangle as his tail brushed the closing weights at the bottom.
