Anthology - The Realms of the Dragons II

Edited by Philip Athans

Or, How Zyx Thwarted a Human Invasion

Erin Tettensor

The Year of the Turret (1360 DR)

Zyx was a nimble dragon. Being only four inches long, his body did not require a great deal of lift to achieve flight, which meant his delicate wings could devote most of their attention to maneuvering. This they did with tireless energy, thrumming at a pace that made them nearly invisible to the naked eye. His tail, meanwhile, was long in proportion to the rest of his body-almost ridiculously so. Acting as an efficient rudder against the air currents, it allowed Zyx to execute sharp changes in direction, darting this way and that with a precision that would make even the most agile hummingbird envious.

All of which was terribly fortunate, for otherwise the yuan-ti would have squashed him like a bug.

"Vermin!" the halfblood hissed, swatting at Zyx with the flat of her scimitar.

"Oops!" sang the faerie dragon merrily as he swept out of the way. "Too slow!"

To drive the insult home, he landed momentarily on the edge of the snakewoman's blade, a taunting smile curling the corners of his mouth.

But his triumph was short-lived. The yuan-ti took another wild swing, and her weapon bit deep into the trunk of a tree. Zyx nearly choked in dismay.

"Clumsy fool!" he cried. He nipped forward and poked the halfblood in the eye. An unimaginative means of attack, perhaps, but the injury to the tree demanded quick retribution. "That yellowwood is several centuries your senior!" he scolded. "Show some respect!"

"I'll show you your own insides, insect!"

She made a grab at the tiny nuisance, but Zyx evaded her with disdainful ease, leaving her clutching empty air.

"Show me, then!" the faerie dragon mocked.

The yuan-ti obligingly charged, and Zyx retreated-but only a short distance. He hovered just out of reach, grinning. And in a sudden flash of inspiration, he winked. It was a master stroke. Enraged beyond all reason, the yuan-ti made a final lunge at her tormentor, crashing through the underbrush with murderous intent.

She never made it. The trap gave way beneath the creature's weight, plunging her through the jungle floor and into the cunningly concealed pit below.

There was a solid thud. Branches and leaves tumbled in like an afterthought. Then, for long moments, all was silent. Zyx hovered over the trap, peering into the gloom to ascertain the fate of his victim.

"I hope she's not dead," he muttered. He could not bear the thought of even a single yuan-ti escaping future harassment.

Presently, however, there came a rustling from the pit, and Zyx breathed a relieved sigh. The snakewoman had righted herself, and resumed spitting and cursing as she tried in vain to claw her way out of the trap.

"Good luck!" Zyx called down to her. "I hope the ants aren't too much of a bother. It's that time of year, you know!"

His last barb safely lodged, Zyx left the yuan-ti to the mercy of the jungle and drifted up into the canopy in search of a quiet place to catch his breath. Pestering the evil snake-men was amusing, to be sure, but it was also thoroughly exhausting.

He alit on a large banana leaf, stretching out in the trough to allow the late afternoon sun to warm his scales. It was a luxury he indulged in when he could, for the rainforest surrendered few unbroken hours of sunlight. Soon his eyelids were drooping lazily, blurring his view over the rolling waves of green before him. Nearby, a hawk circled above the treetops, scanning for prey. Even to the bird's keen eyes, Zyx would appear as nothing more than a sunbathing lizard-an appetizing morsel indeed. But the faerie dragon had little to fear. His bliss-inducing breath weapon was enough to keep him safe from even the most ill-intentioned predators, and he had few qualms about using it. As far as Zyx was concerned, the world could use a little more joy.

Still, it was best to be vigilant. The little dragon blinked in an effort to stay awake, forcing himself to focus on the idle drifting of the hawk. His eyes followed the bird as it wheeled to the west, toward the gorge. There the glistening band of ocher that was the River Olung wound its way toward the distant coast of Chult. But something was amiss with the view. A dark tendril rose ominously against the horizon, weaving and swelling like an angry cobra. Frowning, Zyx twisted to his feet and peered into the distance.

"Smoke," he murmured.

It was an uncommon sight. Fires seldom occurred naturally in such a wet climate, and Zyx was not aware of any intelligent species inhabiting the area. He would treat with unalloyed scorn any suggestion that yuan-ti were "intelligent." Zyx was not the kind of dragon to allow something as crude as evidence to interfere with carefully cultivated prejudice.

Wide awake, Zyx abandoned his leaf. Part of his duty as self-appointed guardian of the forest was to investigate unusual occurrences such as these. Thus far, he had acquitted himself admirably in that regard. Why, only last winter he had thwarted an invasion of wayward butterflies who had become disoriented in their annual migration. If Zyx did not look after these things, no one would.

When he came nearer the smoke, there was no mistaking the smell of fresh wood. The dragon curled his nose in disgust. What kind of savage would fell a living tree when there was plenty of deadwood about? A stray yuan-ti, no doubt, for no other creature capable of building a fire lived within a hundred leagues.

Or so Zyx had believed. But as the leaves gave way before him, he was confronted with a sight that drew him up short-a truly horrific sight, one that every forest creature dreads beyond all others. A tremor of shock ran through the faerie dragon, and he landed clumsily on a branch. It could not be. Not here.

No, Zyx thought desperately, this is quite wrong. It was a human.

He had never seen one before, but he knew it the moment he saw it. The way it stalked about the clearing as though it owned the place, trampling rare grasses and delicate fungus. The way it attacked a rotting log that was home to millions of tiny creatures, picking it aside like a scab to reveal a great wound in the moss beneath. Zyx averted his gaze in sorrow. How many deaths just then? How many generations of work wasted?

The man paused in his destruction to survey the area with narrowed eyes, the kind of eyes that take brutal stock of their surroundings, slotting everything-animal, vegetable, or mineral-into categories: "useful" or "nuisance." Zyx knew that look. It was not the look of a passing traveler.

His darkest suspicions were confirmed a moment later when the man called out and two more of his pernicious kind appeared, axes slung over their shoulders.

"How's it coming?" the first man called.

"Slowly," replied one of his companions. "Reckon it'll take at least a tenday to widen the path enough to let the wagons through."

"Naw," snorted the third man. "Four days, maybe. Once Ivor and the rest get here, it'll go faster."

The first man grunted, casting a squinted look into the sky, and said, "Better get on with it. Be dark soon."

Taking up a hammer and stake, he scanned the ground with an appraising eye. Zyx realized with horror that the man was erecting a tent.