An icy chill cut through Sam, making him shiver deep inside. He dodged the Dragon’s grasp and darted past its lashing tail. It turned and followed.
Questions tumbled through his mind, a mind curiously detached from the racing body that somehow managed to stay ahead of the ravening beast. Had he died and gone to hell? Was he condemned to flee pursuing fiends for eternity? Could he run forever? Did he want to?
In his pocket, the fossil tooth beat the rhythm to which his mind sped. Questions. Questions. He needed answers. He had thought he knew an answer when Dog first spoke to him. What was happening was not real, it was the dream of a dying man. He had no need to run.
As that thought came, the Dragon overtook him and its claws ripped through his body. Sam screamed and tumbled bonelessly to sprawl flat on his face. No dream had ever caused him that kind of pain. On the other hand, he seemed to be intact.
He stood, watching as the Dragon turned and started back toward him. His legs felt too weak to carry him, but he wanted to run. Had Begay felt like this when Tessien had swooped in for the kill?
Pushing back the desire to flee, Sam reached for his gun, only to find that it was not there. The Narcoject and its holster were gone. The only thing on him that approximated a weapon was the tooth. He fished it from his pocket and brandished it at the approaching Dragon.
“Come on, Wizworm. I’m not running anymore. Come and get me, if you can.”
The Dragon swooped low, its jaws open wide. Flame burst forth to wash over Sam. He felt the pressure and smelled the sulfurous foulness of the Dragon’s breath, but he did not burn. Nor did he smell the burning as he had when the sorcerer Rory had fireballed him in the Tir forest.
Halting its forward rush, the Dragon pulled up before him, hovering as it slowly beat its wings. It seemed to be waiting. Sam lowered the tooth.
“What’s the matter?” he jeered. “Can’t hurt me if I face you?”
He got his answer as the beast lashed out with a paw, digging triple furrows of agony across his chest. In reaction, Sam struck the retreating claw with the tooth. The Dragon rose in a booming thunder of wings, and wind tore at Sam, almost knocking him from his feet.
The Dragon began to circle him. With each widening pass, its shape altered, becoming less reptilian and more birdlike. By the fourth revolution, the beast had become a giant eagle, its feathers sparkling in the starlight. Lightnings crackled around the great bird as it circled overhead. It banked toward Sam, dipping its head in acknowledgement, before banking again to turn away. The bird rose higher and higher, dwindling from sight at incredible speed. Sam watched until he lost the dark shape among the stars.
The tooth was heavy in his hand, so he returned it to his pocket. As he did, he saw it was true that he stood within the dreaming circle. Had it all been only a fever dream?
“Good start.”
Sam turned to find Dog sitting at his side. He sat down next to it. If it was a dream, apparently it wasn’t over yet. “Start I thought I was… destined, or something, to die.”
Dog performed his curious canine shrug. “All mortals die, but you’re done with it for a while. You’ve got a life to lead and things to do. You’ve already started down the path.”
“And I suppose you’ll be right there beside me.”
“Let’s just say we won’t be strangers anymore.”
“Or any less.”
Dog cocked his head and stared quizzically at Sam. “Maybe you should hook up with my cousin, instead.”
Sam laughed. Dog seemed to be laughing, too. He put his arm around the animal, who snuggled close, a warm and comforting presence that filled Sam’s nostrils with a familiar doggy smell. Feeling more at ease than he had in more than a year, Sam settled back with his arm still around Dog and was soon fast asleep.
36
As soon as he showed signs of stirring, she put away her meal and bent to check his vital signs. His pulse was steady and much stronger now, and his pupils normal, He winced when she raised his eyelids; that was a good sign. He’d be awake before long. She settled down, out of his immediate line-of-sight. Awakening bandaged and under a sun shade would be disorienting enough without her furry image being the first thing he saw.
It took several minutes, but he did open his eyes, blinking them rapidly in confusion, As he started to sit up, she reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder to force him to lie still.
“Take it easy, dear,” she said in her most soothing tones. “You’ve had a tough time and shouldn’t be moving about yet. You nearly died.”
Without turning to look at her, he said, “I thought I did.”
“You should have, with those wounds.” She moved around where he would be able to see her. To her surprise, his eyes remained placid, his expression calm. Her size was intimidating enough, but most norms reacted to her fangs and talons as though she might eat them on the spot. She had always found that reaction amusing. This man was acting like he was in shock, though her treatment should have removed any physical reason for his detachment. She hoped his spirit hadn’t fled too far to be healed; he was wanted elsewhere. “You’re lucky I found you when I did. If you’d been exposed much longer, even my healing song wouldn’t have helped.”
“Healing song?” he asked weakly.
“Yuh, healing song. It’s what we shamans do when we attend a sick or injured person. You don’t think someone bounces back like you did just from some antibiotics.” She raised one hand, which held a hypodermic. “Though they help. Lie still now and this will only hurt a little.”
He didn’t even quiver as she inserted the needle. He just lay there staring at her, his soft hazel eyes thoughtful and curious but calm as a mountain lake. “He waited until she had stowed the syringe away in her bag before he spoke, his voice stronger now.”
“Who… what are you?”
“Tactful fellow,” she sniffed. “My name’s Jacqueline. I’m what you would probably call a Sasquatch.”
His brow furrowed. “Never heard of a white Sasquatch. Or one that could talk either.”
“My, my, we are parochial. We Sasquatch were certified as a sentient species by the United Nations Advisory Council on Metahumanity in 2042. That august body did not find our inability to use Human languages to be a barrier, and our delegates still did not have even the Perkins-Athabascan, sign language to rely on. Since then, some of us have taken advantage of the benefits of technology.” She pulled back the mane-like fur around her head to reveal a gleaming data-jack. A permanent skillsoft cap protruded and a pair of wires lay against her dark skin and burrowed through the fur in the direction of her neck. “It’s a custom job. A Renraku speech synthesizer linked to a Mitsuhama expert system capable of translation between symbolic concept and verbal expression. The software has got an idiom-handling subprogram that’s a bit idiosyncratic, but it does help smooth out the rough spots. Still, I think that it’s much more socially acceptable to say ‘Pass the vegetables’ instead of ‘Me food want.’ Don’t you agree?