She raised a hand to cover that half of her face.
I reached out and grabbed her hand with my ruined one. I only had three intact fingers, and in trying to clasp her hand and failing, I only seized her fingers.
I was forced to let go, as Peter moved me, trying to prop me up with one arm at his shoulders, standing with me.
“Lighter than you look,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Tiff?” he asked.
Tiff reached my other shoulder.
“My face, and my eye,” I heard Green Eyes murmuring. Not to me. To the faceless woman, ironically enough. “It wasn’t a very good face, but-”
I saw the faceless woman reach down. I didn’t want to say anything, out of concern that a moment’s spite could make the faceless woman do worse.
But she didn’t use her ability to knit flesh.
She helped Green Eyes reposition, and I saw how Green Eyes’ hair had been combed down in front of one side of her face. A curtain of hair so pale it was almost transparent.
She smiled up at me, but it was a little lopsided.
You’re not supposed to be this positive after we’ve both been maimed, I thought.
It took us a moment to find our stride, me supported by two others.
“Dragons are so like they are in video games,” Evan said.
“No,” Tiff said. “Um, in video games, a guy with a sword can kill a dragon. Only way that happens here is if a god intervenes, or you’re drawing on some similar degree of power.”
“We’ve got an in with gods, right?
“Not unless someone wants to hike back to the house,” Peter said.
“Not it,” Roxanne said.
“Not it,” Peter responded, without missing a beat.
“None of us are hiking back right now,” I said.
“You definitely aren’t,” Evan said. “You’ve only got one leg.”
“Yes, Evan. Thank you Evan, for that,” I said. “Tiff, you know something about dragons?”
“A little bit. They were a side note in something else I was researching for Rose. About vestiges, and spirits. For Evan, and for you two.”
“Explain.”
“Dragons are… they’re sometimes called snags, or recursive loops, or um, shoot, can’t remember the word.”
“Problems,” Peter said. “Problematic.”
“Um. Sure. Most are. Some think dragons are what happens when something feeds into itself. Every dragon is different, and some are more elemental, or mostly elemental, or spirit, or deific. Something like a lesser god that worships itself, or an elemental that takes in more than it puts out. They happen only when the stars align right, and attempts to produce them tends to turn out…”
“Problems,” Peter said, again. “That’s what this stuff mostly boils down to, right?”
“Um. Not exactly, I’m not saying you’re wrong, but-”
“I’m right.”
“Yeah,” Tiff said.
“Yeah,” Peter said.
“It went wrong. So they’re rare and they’re unique and they tend to be feral, not always reptilian, but there’s something to be said for memory and the world remembering the dinosaurs or whatever, so it’s more common, as a given snarl needs to find a reference point, but-”
“How do we stop them?” I interrupted.
“Uh. You don’t. Or you don’t easily stop them.”
There was a screech, close by enough that we nearly broke stride and fell, as a group.
Just on the other side of a nearby building.
Tiff’s voice dropped a notch in volume. “Most Others, they have weak points. As Blake just evidenced. He wasn’t even directly hit, and we nearly lost him. Faerie, you hit them with something crude, and they can’t deal, on a lot of levels. Goblins, you hit them with refinement, with cunning ideas and passive means. But Dragons are different. Like I said they’re a snarl.”
“Clarify,” I said. I realized how tense I was, after what had nearly happened to Green Eyes, and added, “Please.”
“There’s no polar opposite. Most are amalgams of elemental and spirit and animal and nightmares, on top of whatever else. You have to beat them at their own game. You get the dragons that are all poison, to the point that one drop of venom can clear out a lake. Then you have to just out-poison them. You get the dragons in some areas of the East that are more spirit and elemental, like dragons of the mountains and… it’s like you have to destroy a mountain by hitting it with a bigger mountain.”
“How do you-” I started. “Nevermind. You’re saying the only way to kill ol’ firebreath there is hotter fire?”
“No,” she said. Her voice dropped to be even quieter, as we approached the end of the street. “There’s another way. Most are violent, killing machines. So… if you’re brave enough, you can try the conventional means. Facing them in battle. Eventually someone succeeds. Usually with the backing of some major power. Usually a god. Which makes them rare.”
“We totally have a god,” Evan said, “don’t we?”
“Fuck,” I said. “What about giants?”
“A hell of a lot simpler,” Tiff said. “Um. Secluded. Big.”
“Basically,” the satyr said.
“They still bleed, though?” I asked.
“They’re endangered,” the maenad told me. “Can’t breed, no gods old or rough-edged enough still around to make more. Except maybe where you’re from, but any that crop up there still aren’t going to be adventurous enough to move. Everyone knows it isn’t right to touch a giant. Or they should know.”
“And if that giant over there comes after us?” I asked.
“Metaphor,” the maenad said. “One of the last elephants in the world charges you, your life is obviously on the line. You going to shoot it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I get your point. I do it, it’s technically okay, but an awful lot of people aren’t going to see things technically.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Got it,” I said. “Question: how the hell did Johannes get these things, and-”
There was a distant yowl.
Suggesting that we weren’t just dealing with a giant and a dragon.
“-and why are they so damn complicated?”
“Everything’s complicated,” Peter said. “And-”
“Problematic,” Evan joined in, as Peter finished the sentence.
“Johannes has them because he offers a sanctuary,” the maenad said. “Just like our High Priest does for us, his followers, except Johannes does it for anything that’s willing to play by the rules. The giants have enemies, just like they have advocates, and even if the advocates vastly outnumber the enemies, there’s people who come after them, and Johannes gives them one more hiding spot, just like this. The dragon, that’s different.”
“It’s not smart,” Tiff said. “It’s an animal, almost.”
“Does this animal have a tamer?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Tiff said.
“That’s something, then,” I said. “But I suspect Johannes will learn from Sandra’s mistake. He’s not going to expose his throat to any attacks. Unless we make him…”