Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

“Good morning.”

“…good morning,” Pryce said, rubbing his eyes.

“You…good?” Fathom asked, peering closely at his face.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Pryce said, giving him a thumbs up. “I am tired, no sleep good,” he explained, setting up his equipment for today.

“This is one kilogram,” Pryce said, holding out a bucket of water that he had weighed earlier. One of the things he skipped yesterday when reading was the average weight of a species. He already read the book while using simple synonyms instead of the textbook-vernacular, but this was something he couldn’t gloss over.

“This is kilogram, no water?” Fathom asked, tilting his head in confusion.

“Yes, this is water,” Pryce confirmed. “Kilogram is mass,” he said, tossing a stone up and down. “Everything have mass, stone have mass, water have mass, tree have mass, dragon have mass.”

“…no understand,” Fathom said, flattening his spines.

“Give me a minute,” Pryce said as he began weighing some rocks.

“…How?”

“What?” Pryce paused in his task to look at Fathom’s puzzled muzzle.

“How do I ‘give’ a minute?” Fathom inquired.

“…‘Give me a minute’ is like ‘wait one minute’,” Pryce explained, and ignored Fathom muttering grumbling something about “…human words.”

“This bucket of water is one kilogram,” Pryce explained when he was done collecting rocks. “This rock is 1 kilogram, this rock is 2 kilograms, this rock is 3 kilograms” he said, sorting them from large to small. “This rock has same mass as this bucket of water, understand now?”

“…yes, understand,” Fathom said.

“Second, minute, hour, meter, kilogram, and liter are units,” Pryce explained. “Second, minute, and hour are units of time. Meter is unit of length. Kilogram is unit of mass. Understand?”

“…” Fathom glanced to the side and seemed to think, so Pryce waited. And waited. And waited. “…no,” the dragon finally admitted.

“Is ok, units is complicated,” Pryce reassured. He spent a few minutes giving more examples and explaining the subject until Fathom grasped the concept, then he went over the conversions between human metric units and draconic units if they existed. It turned out that dragons used their body lengths as a unit, something Pryce called a ‘length’. Fathom proclaimed that he was a large male at 13.5 meters (measured while he was stretched out, from nose to tail-tip), though he said the largest females were about 15 meters long. Because one of their ‘lengths’ was 13.5 meters long, Pryce also taught him the concept of decimal places, which seemed to confuse Fathom until Pryce explained decimal units using fractions.

“So dragon unit of time is ‘beat’, one beat is 12 seconds,” Pryce summarized after an hour of discussion. “Dragon unit of length is one ‘length’, which is about 13.5 meters, and dragons have no unit of mass?”

“No unit of mass,” Fathom confirmed. “Thing is heavy like…small raptor, thing is heavy like big raptor,” he said.

Pryce nodded; it made sense that dragons wouldn’t need a precise unit of mass when comparisons were sufficient enough. “And no units for temperature?”

“No. Dragon have hot, have cold. Human have many thing, many word. Complicated.” Fathom said, with what sounded like a note of complaint in his voice.

“Units are important, humans make shiny things using units,” Pryce said, which predictably made Fathom perk up. “Now you understand units, I can read more of this book,” Pryce said, bringing out the bestiary.

A minute later, Pryce sat cross legged and Fathom sat cat-like behind him, back legs and torso sprawled out to Pryce’s left while his head peered at the pictures from above his head. In the past few days, Pryce would occasionally look at his serrated talons or his powerful forelimbs, and realize that he was next to an incredibly powerful creature that could kill him in an instant, or even by accident, but those moments occurred less often as he spent more time with the dragon.

“Grey wolves range from…1 to 1.6 meters in length, and live in the…northern end of the island,” Pryce read, slurring a little as he rubbed his eyes. It was tedious to abridge what he was reading on the fly, but not difficult. He had started leaning against Fathom’s foreleg some time ago; the scales were tough but surprisingly not uncomfortable against his back, and he was quite content leaning against the dragon while sitting under the warm sun with just enough shade to keep it out of his eyes.

“…they hunt in packs, and…can run up to...60 kilometers per hour…” he mumbled before closing his eyes a bit too long, slumping backwards as he fell asleep.

“…Gharum?” Fathom asked. A few seconds later he decided to blow a puff of air at his head rather than poke him with his sharp talons.

Pryce did not respond, only breathing with a faint wheezing noise.

Then Fathom poked him with a knuckle the same way he spun the globe earlier.

Still nothing.

Fathom stared, bewildered at the human who had fallen asleep against him. What kind of fool fell into a deep-sleep so quickly, and next to a stranger? Fathom had learned much of the human language, but he felt like he was far from fully understanding these strange creatures who not only did not have proper scales, but only had fur in some places of their body.

He still could not understand how something so small could have managed to create something as large as the ship, and with so much metal, all of it purer than anything he had ever seen! They didn’t even have their own fire to melt it with, and tree-fire was far too cold to melt metal, so how could they have done it?

The dragon stared at the completely defenseless human as he snored away. He knew humans slept, all animals did, but the deep-sleep was something dragons did to use their hydrogen pump and make fire-air. Humans didn’t have either of those, so what did they need a deep-sleep for?

Perhaps this was just a normal sleep. Gharum did say he did not sleep well last night, though he did not say why. He still should not have fallen asleep so quickly. Did this strange ‘human’…trust him that much?

Fathom glanced around awkwardly, not sure if he should poke harder until he woke up or to let him rest. In the end he could not bring himself to rouse the silly human, and curled himself around Gharum a little more tightly as he waited for him to awake.

Pryce woke up with a start, and realized the sun was noticeably lower in the sky than he last recalled. He looked around and saw a crescent-shaped wall of dragon at his back, and Fathom’s head lying on the sand in front of him.

The eye facing Pryce blinked, and Fathom lifted his head. “You sleep long time,” Fathom said.

“I sleep three hours and thirty-five minutes,” Pryce said. Then he realized Fathom said ‘long time’, even though he hadn’t taught him that term yet. He supposed it wasn’t unlikely for two distinct languages to describe a concept like time using arbitrary physical attributes, but it was still interesting.

“Yes, you sleep fast. Why?” Fathom asked, tilting his head a little.

“I…I was tired,” Pryce shrugged.

“Why you tired?”

“No sleep yesterday night.”

“Why you no sleep?”

“I…” Pryce began, then trailed off. It wasn’t just the language barrier that stayed his tongue, he wasn’t quite sure how to describe his feelings even to himself. Eventually he retrieved the map, stepping over Fathom’s tail as he left and returned. “When ship here, ship have 40 humans in it here,” he said, tapping on the mainland.

“…This is many humans,” Fathom said, lifting his head to peer at the map and then at the ship. “Number humans in here?” He asked, pointing at the mainland.

“Correction: How many humans are on the mainland?” Pryce said, then paused. He hadn’t taught Fathom ‘millions’ yet. “Hundred is ten tens, thousand is ten hundreds, understand?”

“Yes, you teach two days ago.”

“Million is thousand thousands, understand?”

“…million is very big number, why make this number?” Fathom asked, eyeing with confusion. Of course, dragons probably didn’t have millions of anything, so they never needed to invent words for anything greater than the thousands.

“There are 50 million humans on this island,” Pryce responded drily.

Fathom stared, his jaw hung ajar as he processed this information. Then he dug into the beach and picked out several pebbles the size of Pryce’s fist.

“…This is rock one, rock one is ten rocks, understand?” Fathom asked, pointing at a black rock.

“Yes?” Pryce said, surprised by the statement as Fathom usually wasn’t the one to teach concepts.

“Rock two is ten of rock one, rock three is ten of rock two. Which rock is million?” Fathom asked urgently.

Pryce’s eyes lit up, this was a very clever and intuitive setup, he wished he thought of this method sooner. “Ten. Hundred. Thousand. Ten thousand. Hundred thousand. Million.” He counted as he tapped each rock. “Rock six is one million rocks.”

“Million is this?” Fathom asked, still in disbelief as he sketched ‘100000’ into the sand to check again.

“Ye – no,” Pryce said, adding one more zero. “Is mistake, I correct. Now yes.”

“…yes,” Fathom said, scratching his neck with a wing-thumb. Awkwardness? Or perhaps shame? “This is very very many humans,” he said, sounding as though he meant it as an excuse.

“Is ok, I make mistakes too,” Pryce comforted.

“Two? Where you make two mistakes?” Fathom blinked in confusion.

Pryce sighed. The irony of the situation was not lost on him, though he wasn’t quite sure how to communicate ‘too’ using other words.

“Too is not like two,” he began. “Two is number, too is ‘I do thing like you’,” he explained.

“…hear two is like too, like rock is rock.” Fathom said dubiously.

“Some human words sound same, but not same. Not same is different.”

“Human language complicated,” Fathom huffed, and Pryce got the feeling he’d have used other words if he knew them.

“Yes,” Pryce said helplessly. “I no make human language, I use.” He added, feeling the need to defend himself from the judging gaze. “Mainland have 50 million humans, how many dragons here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“One thousand,” Fathom said succinctly.

Pryce raised an eyebrow, that had to be an estimate, right? “…exactly one thousand? Not one thousand and one, or nine hundred and ninety-nine?”

“I say one thousand,” Fathom said, spines twitching a little in annoyance.

“How do you know that?” Pryce asked incredulously.

“I no that?”

“Know is different from yes no, know is like understand. You know numbers, you know some human words. You know things you learn, understand?”

“…what is different, know, understand?”

Pryce paused at this, wondering if the dragon meant he ‘no understand’ or if he was asking the difference between know and understand. “Understand is…you know why and how thing is, know is know. You can know, but not understand,” He said, aware of how terrible an explanation he was providing.

“…No understand.” Fathom said.

“…I teach you later. Later is some days from now. How you know number of dragons?” Pryce said, tapping his head.

“I…know them?” Fathom said, sounding doubtful, though that may have been because of his attempt at using the new homonym.

“You…know them,” Pryce said in disbelief. “You know all one thousand dragons.”

“Yes,” Fathom said blithely, as if this were normal.

“You know their names?”

“Yes, I know one thousand dragon names.”

“And all dragons know one thousand dragon names.”

“Yes?” Fathom said. “No understand, humans no know 50 million names?”

“Of course n-” Pryce said, then caught himself. “No, humans no know 50 million names.”

“That is many names,” Fathom said as if conceding a point. Pryce supposed it was quite a culture shock to hear about a society of 50 million when yours consisted of a group of one thousand. “You no teach: Why you no sleep?” He asked, sounding a little reproachful.

“Sorry,” Pryce said, smiling sadly.

“What is ‘sorry’?”

“Sorry is…when you make a mistake, you say sorry to human or dragon you wound,” Pryce explained.

“You no wound me,” Fathom snorted.

“You ask question, you want to learn, I no answer, I say sorry,” Pryce tried. “Humans or dragon is ‘person’, You say sorry to person you wound or give pain to,” Pryce explained. “Dragon have this word?”

Fathom glanced to the side, not meeting his eyes. “No…yes…different.”

“How different?”

“Dragons say sorry to dragon you very wound, no say sorry for…this,” he gestured vaguely.

“Dragon sorry is more serious,” Pryce said. “Human say ‘I apologize’ when they are very sorry.”

“…understood.”

“…anyway, to answer your question, I am…healer. Heal is when wound go away, healer is person who make wound go away faster.”

“You use ointment, make ointment?”

“…yes,” Pryce said, since it was close enough to the truth. He had discovered and isolated antibiotics, as well as helped in synthesizing it for mass-production, so it was pretty accurate to say he helped make it.

“You make ointment?” Fathom asked, looking at the wound on his wing.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“…complicated,” Pryce said. “I teach you tomorrow,” he promised before continuing, “I was a healer on the ship, but I get sick. Illness make humans sick, when humans sick, body is hot, body feels cold,” Pryce said, not sure if he would be understood. “Sick person no eat, sleep long time,” he added.

“…Yes, dragon…have sick too,” Fathom said, sounding uncertain, but Pryce felt like there was some other emotion there. “Some sick very very bad, some dragons die.”

“Yes, many humans die from sick too. I find cure for many sick people. Cure is thing that make body heal from sick.” He took a deep, preparatory breath before venturing on. “I go on ship as healer, but I get sick. I no cure people on ship, people on ship get sick.”

Pryce lowered his head, shutting his watering eyes. “Then storm. Storm is big big wind,” he said weakly. “Storm and illness kill humans. No kill me.”

“You know humans in ship names?”

Pryce blinked. “Of course, I knew all of them.”

“Knew?”

“Oh, knew is past of know, I know them in the past.”

“They dead now.”

“…yes.”

“You no dead, this…is good?” Fathom asked, confused by Pryce’s emotions.

Pryce did not answer, and only looked down at the beach.

“Question: Dead humans is your…” Fathom broke off, then took a minute to sketch something in the sand. When Pryce look up, he saw that it was a family tree like the ones they had drawn earlier.

“No, not my family.”

“…I no understand, why you…this?” Fathom asked, uncertain and cautious.

“…I am sad, because…because I heal people, is my responsibility. Fail is big mistake. If people die, I fail. I no heal people on ship, I fail.” Pryce sighed. “People in ship is ‘crew’. Crew were in…pain for many days, and their families do not know they are dead.”

“You know this, why you no sleep yesterday night?” Fathom asked; he still did not understand.

“I…see what books crew have, maybe they have books I can read to you. I see one book. A child’s book – a child is like a hatchling. One of the crew, a healer like me, had her son’s book. I think he gave it to her before she left.” Pryce looked up at Fathom, his eyes reddened. “It make me…feel bad,” he finished lamely, unsure of how to tell him that he ‘remembered’ something, especially when the dragon seemed to almost never forget anything.

“Why you no heal…them?” Fathom asked.

“What?” Pryce said, rubbing his eyes.

“Why you no heal them?” Fathom repeated.

“Because I…I did not know how.”

“If you not know how, then how you heal them in past?”

“I…I understand what you say,” Pryce said slowly, “but the crew was my…responsibility.”

“What is that?”

“Responsibility is…” Pryce scratched his head. “Raptor try to kill me, when you kill raptor, that is you protect me. Dragon have egg, parents…give dragonet food? Protect dragonet? Heal dragonet when it has wound?”

“…Yes,” Fathom said quietly, his wings slumping.

Pryce felt a distant pang of relief; it would be difficult to explain responsibility to creatures who never took care of anything. “My crew was my responsibility. My responsibility to protect them from sick.”

“…no understand why you responsibility,” Fathom said, tossing his head lightly before turning his head to directly face Pryce. “Understand you…sad. You no can protect people you want to protect.”

“Yes. Almost forty people I kill,” Pryce said quietly, as he hung his head.

“…Correction: You no kill humans,” Fathom said, “You want protect but you fail. Different.” He concluded with a dismissive snort.

“…Thank you,” Pryce said, blinking.

Fathom blinked. “I no give you thing.”

“You give me words,” Pryce said, smiling. “You are a good friend.”

“Friend?”

“Friend is…someone – a person you are happy to see. Happy is no sad.”

Fathom tilted his head in thought. “…Dragons is happy to see mate and hatchling.” He looked dubiously down at Pryce. “You no hatchling, and you very not mate?”

Pryce snickered before bursting out into laugher despite his somber mood, causing Fathom to draw his head back in bewilderment.

[JOURNAL ENTRY]

Day 32,

Today was…interesting, Fathom claims that there are exactly one thousand dragons on this island, and that he knows all of their names. After seeing how quickly he memorizes everything, I don’t doubt him. Why do they all know each other? Even the largest close-knit human communities rarely exceed 150, so I doubt Fathom really ‘knows’ a thousand other dragons, it is more likely he knows of them. Perhaps it is simply very important to know who to cross and who to not.

I have also talked to Fathom about my…recent history.

I am not sure if he was trying to be comforting, exactly, but he did make me feel a bit better. He was somewhat insulting, but oddly enough that made it easier to accept his opinion as an unbiased one.

I told Fathom I’d teach him about medicine, so I’ll do that tomorrow. I know my past will likely come up in the conversation, and it will be a difficult one, but it needs to be said.

Wound progress update: The wound is smaller now, perhaps by a centimeter. If this rate of healing persists then the wound will likely be healed in less than 10 days; that is some truly impressive regeneration.