The Dragons of Andromeda Read online

  Sisa heard movement from the trees. Several small humanoids emerged. Each looked like a toadstool, tiny eyes peering out from under a cap of red with white spots. Their arms and legs were short, sprouting from their squat bodies. Like the Katak, they carried spears.

  Sporemen, Sisa thought.

  The froglings chirped excitedly, thrusting their weapons in the air. The sporemen did the same.

  “Alright,” Sisa said. “Everybody calm down.”

  The lead Katak shook his spear at her, then pointed back at the fungus people.

  Sisa formed words in her mind. What do you want from me?

  Translate, he thought back. What do they want?

  Concentrating, Sisa focused on one of the sporemen. As a fungus, his thoughts were difficult to understand at first, but after a few minutes, Sisa began comprehending the situation.

  You’re trespassing, she told the frogling telepathically. They want you to leave.

  No, the leader replied. We must go this way.

  Well, I don’t think they’re going to let you, she thought.

  So be it!

  With one of the froglings guarding Sisa, the others rushed into the trees and attacked the sporemen. The two sides squared off, each lunging with spears. Sisa could feel their fury and fear, mixed with her own. She didn’t understand why any of this was happening, why they kidnapped her, or why this was so important that someone had to die because it. Mostly, Sisa just wanted to be home in bed, the smell of her mother’s hotcakes wafting down the hall from the kitchen.

  The Katak shouted when they died, croaking their last breath, but the fungus people, gentle in their own way, made no sounds at all. They fell quietly, like the morning fog burning off in the sunshine.

  The treetop village was in uproar, the Gowyn townspeople running from one platform to another, looking for their missing Sylvan. From what anyone could tell, only Sisa had been taken. To Silandra, her mother, this made it all the worse.

  “Why would they take my daughter?” she asked the others, but their concerned stares held no answers.

  Bragor arrived with a few of his usual patrons, all armed with blasters.

  “We’ve searched the whole village,” Bragor said. “There’s no sign of her.”

  A foot taller than the others, Sir Golan stood at the back of the crowd. Squire was beside him.

  “I will find her,” the knight announced.

  Everyone turned, their eyes fixed on this stranger that some of them were seeing for the first time. A crescendo of their murmuring voices escalated until Sir Golan spoke again.

  “By my sword,” he said grandly, “I shall return her safely.”

  Bragor’s mouth was forming a question when Silandra interrupted.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said.

  “No,” Bragor said. “I should go.”

  “I can sense her,” Silandra said, shaking her head. “You can’t.”

  Bragor looked at his feet but said nothing.

  Sir Golan and the robot waded through the crowd until they reached the mother. Silandra caught a glimpse of Mel at their heels, her body hidden behind the taller Sylvans.

  “Do you have any idea where they might’ve taken her?” the knight asked.

  “I don’t know,” Silandra replied. “They’ve never attacked us before. Usually, we have good relations with them.”

  “They must have towns somewhere...” Mel said.

  “They have settlements in the swamp to the West,” Bragor said.

  “Alright then,” Sir Golan said. “That’s where we’ll start.”

  “Shouldn’t we send a larger group?” Bragor asked. “Everyone wants to help.”

  “If Sisa is a captive,” Squire replied. “It would be better if we didn’t appear hostile.”

  “Well, I’m going...” Mel said.

  “Why?” Sir Golan asked.

  “Ah, because your robot might need more repairs,” Mel replied. “I’m very serious about my service plan.”

  “Service plan?” Squire said.

  “Your money back, guaranteed!” Mel said. “Also, I threw in a few things and I want to make sure they work okay.”

  “What kind of things?” the robot asked.

  Mel looked off to the side.

  “You know,” she said, “upgrades...”

  They followed the Katak tracks into the thickening woods. Sir Golan, in full armor, led the search party with Squire behind him. Mel and Silandra walked together. The noises from the town faded into the background.

  “Why did you say only you could sense Sisa?” Mel asked.

  “Only Sylvan women are psi sensitive,” Silandra replied. “Mothers and their daughters are especially linked.”

  “Can you feel her now?”

  “Only weakly.”

  “But at least that means she’s alive...” Mel said.

  “Oh, yes,” Silandra smiled. “If I didn’t sense her at all, I don’t know what I’d do right now.”

  “You two must be pretty close,” Mel said.

  “Sisa was always independent,” Silandra said. “She doesn’t like how aware I am of her feelings. She calls it spying.”

  “I never knew my mom.”

  “No?”

  “I was an orphan,” Mel went on. “I never knew either of my parents.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “But Sisa’s father is still around...”

  “Bragor is a good father,” Silandra said. “He loves Sisa very much.”

  “It must drive him crazy knowing he can’t understand her the way you can.”

  Silandra laughed softly until it became a sigh.

  “It’s not always a blessing,” she said. “When she’s happy, I’m happy, but when she’s sad, I can’t help but feel sad too.”

  The search party wound their way between the larger trees, cutting through brush with Sir Golan’s sword. The trail cut by the Katak before them made the going easier and, Mel hoped, faster. The tracks themselves, four-toed feet, slightly webbed, were easy to distinguish from Sisa’s own tiny soles.

  “How far are we from Gowyn?” Mel asked the robot.

  “My GPS says approximately three miles,” Squire replied.

  “Good to hear your satellite tracking is still working.”

  “I must admit that Sir Golan is not well-versed in technology,” Squire said. “My capabilities have often proved useful to him.”

  “Are you saying he can’t use a computer?”

  “It’s not that he can’t. He simply chooses not to.”

  “Why?” Mel asked.

  “He prefers the simplicity of less modern things.”

  “But he has you, doesn’t he?”

  “He’s not a Luddite, Miss Freck.”

  “Sorry,” Mel replied. “I’m sure it’s nice to have you around.”

  “One would hope,” Squire said, “but I faithfully endeavor to be useful whenever I can...”

  Sir Golan stopped suddenly.

  “What’s wrong?” Mel asked.

  “There’s been a battle,” he replied, pointing Rippana, his sword, at several mounds sticking out of the leaves and grass. Drawing closer, Mel recognized some of the shapes as Katak corpses.

  “Sisa!” Silandra started but stopped herself. “No, she’s not here. I can still sense her elsewhere.”

  Among a stand of birch trees, froglings and fungus creatures lay motionless, spears stuck into the ground like poles marking a burial place.

  “These are sporemen,” Silandra said. “This is their territory.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t approve of trespassers,” the knight said grimly.

  Something moved, snapping a fallen branch. Sir Golan was instantly on guard.

  In the midday shadows, a large mound with four trunk-like legs moved toward them. At the end of a long neck, a face like a thick flower with four petals turned in their direction. The petals peeled open, revealing a structure like a starfish full of teeth.

  “Get back!” Sila
ndra shouted. “It’s a Kamal Maut!”

  Sir Golan took a step backwards while Mel hid behind a tree.

  “According to my translation,” Squire said, “that means Death Lotus.”

  “Thanks,” Mel said. “Very helpful.”

  As if ready to roar, the Death Lotus opened its maw wider, but instead of sound, a cloud came pouring out.

  “Spores,” Silandra said. “They’re poisonous if you breathe them in...”

  “I can’t get close without passing through the cloud,” the knight said.

  “Maybe you should’ve brought a gun!” Mel shouted, still behind the tree.

  “Didn’t you mention upgrades to my system?” Squire asked.

  “Of course!” she replied. “Use the displacement field.”

  “I fail to see how that would—” Squire began.

  “Just do it!”

  A dome of blue energy, with Squire at the center, burst into existence, enveloping the party beneath it.

  “Now, walk toward that thing,” Mel said.

  The robot started toward the Death Lotus, while Sir Golan remained in between. As Squire got closer, the toxic spores collected against the outside surface of the dome.

  “Keep going!” Mel urged. “Just don’t let its mouth puncture the dome...”

  The displacement field pushed against the creature, bending inward like a hand pushing against a balloon.

  “You can attack it,” Mel told the knight. “The field is one-way.”

  Sir Golan took a swipe at the Death Lotus, cutting into its mossy hide. Spurts of blood sprayed against the outside of the dome.

  “Now I have you!” the knight shouted, sending his sword through the barrier and into the creature.

  The Death Lotus staggered as its front legs gave out, falling clumsily on its side.

  “Splendid!” Squire said.

  Mel came out, brushing herself off.

  “Yeah, well,” she said, “it works against solid objects as long as their mass isn’t too big. I figured it would work in this case...”

  “But you weren’t sure?” Sir Golan asked, his eyebrow raised.

  “Consider this a field test,” Mel replied.

  Sisa felt sick.

  The froglings had waded into the sporemen, killing them all while losing several of their own. Sisa wanted to throw up, but the head Katak who had survived kept tugging at her bindings, pulling her along.

  The forest floor beneath her feet became damp as the land turned swampy. Also, the daylight began to fade and Sisa found herself tripping over roots lurking in the gloom around her feet, now soaking wet. The noises changed, too, as insects and lesser amphibians filled the air with a cacophony of different cries.

  When Sisa saw the first skull, she didn’t recognize it at first. A series of long stakes, each crowned with a skull, led the way into the Katak village where campfires drew the froglings home like moths. Huts, made from driftwood and held together with mud, were nestled on bits of land surrounded by pools of water.

  The townspeople came out to greet the arriving band of raiders. They gathered around Sisa, peering with wide eyes at her strange appearance. They took her to the center of the village where a large bonfire was burning. On the other side of the flames, from an earthen lodge larger than the surrounding huts, a Katak with black and yellow skin came tottering out. A vest made from dried reeds hung on his chest and he carried a staff with yet another skull on the end. Sisa wondered where they were getting them all.

  He swayed back and forth from one webbed foot to the other until he was next to the girl. He looked her up and down, only then giving a loud, approving croak. His breath smelled so rancid, Sisa nearly choked.

  What do you want from me? she asked, reaching into the old frogling’s mind. Distorted images flooded back to her.

  Sisa screamed.

  “Something’s wrong,” Silandra said.

  “What is it?” Mel asked.

  “I felt Sisa crying out,” Silandra replied. “Her thoughts were of something horrible, grotesque...”

  Sir Golan stopped, both he and Squire looking back.

  “Ladies?” the knight inquired.

  “I think we should hurry,” Mel said.

  “Without question,” Sir Golan replied, “but we’ve lost the trail in this swamp...”

  The forest, and the solid ground from which it grew, had turned to doughy mosses and muddy ponds filled with intractable reeds. The webbed footprints ended at the water’s edge.

  Silandra focused her mind, her brows furrowed as she stared into the deepening twilight. She pointed.

  “That way,” she said.

  The knight started off again with Mel and Silandra following, but Squire remained where he stood.

  “What is it?” Sir Golan asked, stopping.

  “Terribly sorry,” the robot replied. “I appear to be stuck.”

  The robot was in the process of sinking, the mud coming up to his shins and rising.

  “This is quite embarrassing,” Squire said.

  Mel shook her head at him. “The ground’s too soft.”

  “We need to hurry,” Silandra said.

  “Well, we can’t just leave him like this!” Mel replied.

  “Go on without me,” Squire pleaded. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine here... alone in the dark.”

  Sheathing his sword, the knight picked up a fallen branch and wedged it into the muck around the robot’s leg.

  “While I press down,” he said, addressing Mel and Silandra, “you two push until we break the suction of the mud.”

  The two women glanced at each other and then, together, began pushing on Squire as the knight laid his weight on the log. After a few attempts, the wet ground made an unappetizing sound and the robot came free.

  On his back, Squire was emphatically appreciative.

  “Thank you so much!” he said. “I was sure this would be my grave, neck deep in a bog.”

  “Forget it,” Sir Golan said.

  “As you wish. Deleting data file...”

  In the mind of the Katak chief, Sisa saw a face, although it was more skull than alive. The eyes, suspended in the otherwise empty sockets, blazed fiery orange. With no lips, his teeth were bare, grinning a horrific smile. What skin remained was wrapped tightly like paper dried over centuries.

  She heard her screams before realizing she was the one screaming. The chief poked her with his staff and she stopped.

  The chief spoke to his tribe and the Kataks squawked in apparent approval. Sisa wasn’t sure what he said, but she thought it meant something like tribute or maybe gift. Or was it sacrifice? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  The frogling leader who had dragged Sisa halfway from her home to the Katak village became agitated. He grunted and pointed his spear at the girl and then back the way they had come. Sisa got the feeling he wasn’t happy with whatever arrangement had been made. Perhaps the cost of the warriors that died was too high a price to pay, but the chief was having none of it. With his staff, he gestured at Sisa and pointed in the other direction, deeper into the swamp. Eventually, the warrior relented, pulling on her bindings again. Along with two other Katak, he led Sisa away.

  They walked down another trail away from the village. The natural light gone, one of the froglings lit a torch. Hemmed in by darkness and vegetation, Sisa couldn’t see much beyond the bobbing light. She became aware of shapes looming on either side of the trail. Most were about three feet tall but with smooth curves, making them unnatural in a jungle of jagged edges. They also leaned at odd angles as if a disturbance had pushed them up out of the ground. It was only until the frogling with the torch came closer to one that Sisa saw them for what they truly were. Like stone ghosts, they were gravestones that had sunk into the marshy ground. An immense cemetery, countless ages old, that time had flooded and forgotten.

  Behind her, coming from the village, an explosion pierced the darkness.

  Silandra said the Katak were normally peacef
ul, but Squire was finding that hard to believe as spears came flying out of the darkness. Up ahead, the bonfires of a village were visible.

  “Should I use the displacement field?” Squire asked Mel.

  “No!” she said. “It’s too weak. Use your energy shield...”

  “My what now?”

  “The thing in your arm!”

  Surprised, like finding he had an extra elbow, Squire noticed a button on his left arm. He pushed it and a field of translucent energy, three feet tall and two feet wide, materialized. He lifted the shield, deflecting a spear harmlessly into the underbrush.

  “Get behind me,” he said and both Mel and Silandra took cover at his back. Meanwhile, Sir Golan remained at the front, diverting incoming spears with his sword.

  Mel reached into her satchel and removed a spherical object, slightly larger than her tiny hand.

  “What’s that?” Silandra asked.

  “A stun grenade,” she replied. “It creates a blast but it shouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Mel chucked the grenade toward the village. A moment later, one of the bonfires exploded in a shower of burning logs. Several froglings fled in a panic, their bodies covered in flames.

  “Oops...” Mel said, her eyes widening.

  “Let’s go!” Sir Golan shouted, rushing forward.

  By the time Squire and the others reached the knight, Sir Golan had dispatched the defenders and had their chief on the ground, the tip of Rippana at his throat.

  “Don’t kill him!” Silandra cried, gripping the knight’s shoulder.

  Sisa’s mother knelt beside the elder Katak. The chief murmured a low croak, his eyes glazed by age. Silandra remained still, focusing on the frogling.

  “What’s she doing?” Squire asked Mel.

  “Talking with him,” she replied.

  “Telepathy?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Can you upgrade me with that?” Squire wondered.

  “I don’t think robots can use psionics,” Mel said.

  “It would be nice to know what people are thinking.”

  “Maybe...”

  Silandra stood, but the old chief was no longer breathing, his eyes still open but lifeless.

  “What did he say?” Sir Golan asked.