“What is this?” Milord, because that’s all I knew him as, said. “Some kind of parlour trick. Remove this animal instantly.” The secretary was waved over but M stopped him in his tracks.
I’m going to shift, M said.
Like hell, it’s not big enough in here to fit you.
I don’t need to be full-sized, he replied and I saw a familiar shiver run down his spine. The people around the table pushed back their chairs as he began to change, turning into a dragon the size of a large horse.
“What the…?” The question hung in the air as every single one of them looked Miazydar over, unable to believe what they saw. None were prepared to come any closer, people peered at him with craned necks.
“Now, as I was saying, I have something to say about your ‘ruling’. We are not Aravisian citizens, so we are not subject to your law. We came to your country in good faith, to deter those goons you sent through with plasma spears from revealing alien life to the Eartherns. It is only through good sense and personal restraint that I don’t burn the lot of you as you sit.” To emphasise his point he allowed out a thin trickle of flame to play across his muzzle. “Sever the bond? Kill my rider? What idiocy!”
Well, that put the cat amongst the pigeons. The Council erupted, every single one of them yelling and gesticulating wildly.
“How in all the seven hells did a dragon get inside this building!”
“Contact the troops! Get them in here, now!”
“That’s not a dragon, it’s just a clever shifter! Those bloody Damoricans have found a way to ape our beasts!”
“Enough!” Miazydar said, his nails digging into the surface of the table for emphasis, the groan of the timber sufficient to shut them up for a moment. “I am a dragon of the Rozenrrath family, Tess is my rider and we are going.”
“Rozenrrath? That family died out hundreds of years ago,” a woman said, scrabbling around through her scrolls, finally finding one which she looked through. “364 years ago to be exact.”
“I don’t know what the hell you are playing at with this charade, but whoever is pulling your strings has a pretty poor grip on the facts,” another man said.
“C’mon guys, this is stupid. Let’s get home and have a coffee and try to forget this ever happened,” I said, getting to my feet.
“You better have a lot of weaponry hidden in that luggage of yours,” General Grall said with a dark smile. “I can have a wing of riders, real dragon riders on your tail within minutes of take-off. You might have a fire-breather but we have acid and venom spitters, spine shooters and—.”
“Yeah, yeah, I watched How to Train Your Dragon too, y’know,” I said. “Miazydar, make sure these gimps don’t move, or breathe or do anything we don’t want to. We’re going to have a little meeting.”
“Done,” he said, expanding so that he lay along the whole table. He slammed his claws down on the man who thought to surreptitiously reach for his spear, waiting until the man’s cries came in high and screechy like a trapped rabbit’s, before letting him go.
“Fuck off over there,” I said to Jerk, the secretary. He scrambled to obey. “Right,” I said as we huddled together. “Flea, kudos, you were right, this is going to be a shit fight. When am I going to learn that it’s never simple dealing with inter-dimensional governments?” He shrugged like it was nothing. “So what do we do? Miazydar can fly us back, but obviously with the majority of Aravisian dragons on our tail and none of us can fight on dragonback.”
“Shouldn’t you just tell them what happened? Surely they’ll see sense,” Jez said.
I looked over at Flea. “It’ll give us some time to think of an exit strategy,” he said.
“Fine, I hope I don’t regret this.” We turned around and returned to the table, forced to stand to look over M’s bulk. “You have no idea how we ended up with Miazydar, yet you’re assuming we’re Damorican agents here to spy. We’re from Earth, there are no dragons there—”
“No thanks to St George,” Miazydar said with a roll of his eyes.
“—we’re not employed by the Damorican government either. They’re friendly because we, well, accidentall
y killed the Damorican Crown Prince.”
“Accidentally?” Milord said.
“Well, the act itself wasn’t an accident. Look, I need to go back a bit to explain.” With Flea’s help, I quickly outlined our adventures in Damorica, culminating in the death of the prince and the burning of the manor. “So you can see, none of this was a deliberate ploy to destabilise governments or infringe on what appears to be a global monopoly on dragons you have going here. And what is your name, anyway?” I asked Milord.
“Lord Graves.”
“Right, so, my Lord Graves, can we just go back through the portal to Earth where we won’t have any effect on the political situation in Aravisia, without incurring the wrath of the acidy, spitty, venomy dragons?”
He thought about what to say next, his hands moving restively and then replied, “If I could have a moment with the Council?”
“I’ll keep an eye on them, Tess,” M said.