Dragon: Allie's War Book Nine by JC Andrijeski

looking when I’d been there last.
    Of course, my dreams had surround-sound, in addition to the horrifying images. In my dreams I heard air raid sirens, screaming, honking horns as people tried to evacuate in a panic…and eventually I heard faraway impact concussions, too.
    In the foreground of Feigran’s skyline was an image of what had to be a seer.
    He stood at somewhat of an angle, looking backwards towards the two of us.
    I could see part of his face as a result, even though Feigran had drawn it partly in shadow. I could see most of his back, too. Unlike the rest of the seers and humans depicted, his light eyes didn’t focus up at the buildings and falling bombs.
    Instead, he seemed to be glaring at me.
    Truthfully, he looked a little like Revik…but the light signature behind the image, what Feigran had woven into the picture in terms of aleimi, felt nothing like my husband.
    His black hair looked matted, mane-like where it twisted windblown around his neck and shoulders. He wore a strange collar, connected to some kind of armored helmet over his face and wrapping around the back of his dark hair; it included what looked like a metal gag, some kind of restraint over his mouth, nose and jaw. I might have thought it was an elaborate sight-restraint collar but for that strange gag covering most of his lower face.
    He looked…feral. That was the only word for it.
    Like a genetically-designed soldier.
    His clothes hung off him, tattered by burns and cuts apart from the organic helmet and two crossing bands that might have been weapons’ harnesses. He wore military-style boots, but those looked half-destroyed, as well. His skin, where it showed, was filthy, coated in smoke…patterned in dark streaks that might have been dirt, cuts, bruises, dried blood.
    He didn’t have an ounce of spare flesh on him, but the seer’s muscles stood out under his skin in hard cords. I saw his collar bones in the glimpse of his upper chest that Feigran drew, but also a thick bunch of muscle at his shoulders and along his arms.
    The detail kind of blew my mind.
    I could almost feel a presence there. Moreover, something about that presence…assuming, again, that I wasn’t reading way too much into this…felt familiar, too.
    Familiar enough to make me glance to my right, where I knew a one-way window lived outside the cab of the truck. I couldn’t see the window of course, much less through it, but I knew it was there, behind the virtual projection. I also knew a make-shift security booth stood there, along with the interface with Dante’s machines.
    Getting no response from the link I wore or the Barrier, I turned my frown back towards Feigran himself.
    “Why is he wearing that?” I asked, pointing at the muzzle-like device. “Feigran? What is that thing over his mouth?”
    “He is Dragon,” Feigran said, as if that explained it.
    “Yeah. I got that part. What does that mean?”
    Feigran blinked, glancing up at me. “He breathes. Life with words…with his tongue. He breathes life …in and out, in and out. He wants to be free. He wishes only to be free.”
    I settled my weight on my heels, frowning deeper.
    Then I slid closer to him, so that we nearly touched. Reaching out, I laid a hand tentatively on the seer’s narrow shoulder. “Help me out here, Feigran,” I said, soft. “What does that mean, to breath life? Is he some kind of weapon?”
    Feigran leaned into my hand, resting his head on my chest.
    I knew it was virtual, but to say it felt weird was putting it mildly.
    “It’s a small part,” Feigran muttered, tilting his face so he was speaking directly to me, albeit in a low voice. “Very small. But it shines. It shines… he keeps it safe…keeps it hidden. He will not let it go. He will not. In through the out door…out through the in.”
    I froze, staring at Feigran’s downturned head.
    When he didn’t go on, I exhaled, clicking under my breath as I fought to untangle his words. So far on this thread I was