Dragon Island (24 page)

I’ve seen and heard enough.

I do what I do best and high-tail it out of there. The tengu’s bead necklace thumps repeatedly against my chest as I run. I take up a vantage behind what I hope will be the protective wall of an outlying reed house. The Toho quickly follow, leaving Ura and the shobijin alone at the village’s center.

More lightning crashes down to sizzle through Kusanagi into the mad Xenomian. But rather than hurt Ningai, it seems to have the opposite effect upon him. He swells with each strike, his robes stretching tighter and tighter across his body.

The wind picks up speed and force and I hear the horrible roar of the red-eyed daikaiju sound from the swirling storm clouds.

My already fast-beating heart becomes the piston of a racecar doing laps inside my chest.

Huge, black tendrils of cloud spiral down to envelope Ningai in a whirling tornado the size of a skyscraper. The funnel grows in size and strength, chewing up the surrounding village.

I turn and bolt across the river, heading for the tree-line. Once again, the Toho follow. When I feel I’ve reached a safe distance (As if there was such a thing!), I stop and peer through the forest, unable to keep my eyes off the brewing disaster.

I watch along with the Toho surrounding me as arcs of lightning leap from the massive twister. The blasts connect with the remaining reed houses, engulfing them in flame.
 

The Toho scream and cry, out of their minds with fear and loss.

Join the club!

By contrast, the shobijin remain the picture of calm despite being face-to-face with Ningai’s dark magic. In fact, the twin priestesses are singing.

That’s right, singing!

I would not believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes.

The tornado suddenly dissipates, and I realize, despite my previous encounters with monsters and demons here on Dragon Island, I’ve not until this very moment known what true terror is.

Right before my plane crashed, I thought I saw hundreds of writhing shapes among the clouds. And, when I was at the base of Yamanba’s castle, I thought the pairs of monstrous eyes I glimpsed through the fog had to belong to no less than three daikaiju.

I was wrong.

Everything I saw belongs to just one beast—one singularly massive daikaiju!

In the place where Ningai Ura once stood is now a great, three-headed dragon.

The daikaiju is the largest thing I’ve ever seen. Literally! And truthfully, it not only occupies Ningai Ura’s former spot, but that of the entire village now lain to waste beneath its crushing bulk. The only remaining structure is the saucer-ship.

The Toho clansmen nearest me gasps in terror.

“Zo-don!” he says, each syllable coming between sharp, panicked breaths.

Zodon’s hide is the color of deep space, even darker than the night surrounding it. It’s as if each individual scale covering the giant beast is comprised of congealed shadow.

The beast’s six eyes exist in three individual pairs. Each pair is relegated to a monstrous head perched on a long, flexible stalk of neck. The heads are warped abominations of animal visages I know from my own world.

The one on the right resembles a vulture. Its razor-sharp beak repeatedly opens and closes, voicing the high shriek that gives Zodon’s roar its metallic edge.

The left head bears the countenance of a grinning jackal. Its rictus of a muzzle draws back even farther to reveal glistening fangs the size of tree trunks. Drool leaks from its mouth to sear the earth where it lands.

The center head is the largest and most fearsome of the three. It’s the twisted grotesque of a rabid male lion. A thick crust of yellow foam rings its fanged maw. A shaggy, maroon mane encircles its head and runs down its spine to split a pair of leathery, scalloped wings so large they could generate hurricanes.

Two gargantuan tyrannosaur legs extend from Zodon’s center, acting as a fulcrum for its horizontally stretched bulk. An immense tail with a razor-edged pummel of bone at its tip balances out the daikaiju’s upper body.

Simply put, Zodon is the stuff of nightmares. He is the thing every kid fears is living in their closet or under their bed. He is why even grown-ups are sometimes afraid to go at night.

He is what crashed my plane and killed everyone aboard.

He is fear given a face; horror given a name.

And right now, all that stands between him and the rest of us are two little old ladies who think our best defense is to sing a song.

Gryphina, oh, Gryphina

We ask your help

With the god-dragon’s might

Through time

Please answer our prayer

Through space

Hear our cry

Your people believe

Like the sun you’ll rise

Shine our guardian!

Reveal your power!

—
Gryphina’s Song
(translated)

I
want my mom!

I’m tired of being chased by dragons and monsters and mad men bent on conquering the world.

I want to go home!

I want to be in my bed, my dog Bear already asleep beside me.

Heck! At this point, I would even settle to be in
Tokyo
with Dad! He can even stay at work and demolish half the city to pave the way for Neo-Tokyo for all I care! That’s fine! Whatever!

Just so long as I’m there and not here in the dark forest beyond the remains of the Toho village, about to watch a giant, three-headed daikaiju chomp up two little old ladies as though they were nothing more than finger food.

I still cannot believe the nightmare I’m witnessing!

Those of us who stayed behind to witness the carnage peek out from the tree-line as the dragon Zodon unfurls a pair of scalloped, crimson wings that blot out the night sky. Thunder crashes and lightning jumps between the dark clouds above as Zodon roars in challenge at the two singing priestesses before him.

The dragon’s howl shakes the ground and the Toho and I are forced to hug the trees in order to stay on our feet. The roar ends but, to my dismay, the ground continues to shake.

Then I hear an earsplitting trill sound in the distance. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard. Sharp and alien, it’s what I would imagine the sound of time and space being rent in two to be like.

I look around and see that the Toho have all dropped to their knees. They bow repeatedly as a collective, swept up in religious awe.

An explosion sounds and, in the distance, I see a brilliant geyser of flame burst from the volcano home of the shobijin.

Ryuu’s Mouth is erupting!

No, I immediately think, gazing at the Toho surrounding me. It’s more than that.

Gryphina is coming!

Zodon seems to sense it, too.

The dragon takes a backward step as it lifts all three of its ugly heads in the volcano’s direction.

More spouts of flame burst from the volcano.

Then something leaves Ryuu’s Mouth with them—an enormous dark silhouette ablaze with fire and brimstone. It streaks upward like a reverse shooting star to disappear among the clouds.

Zodon howls.

This time, he is answered.

The loud trill reverberates through the air once again, matching the three-headed dragon’s call in volume and ferocity. This noise is joined by another that sounds like the whirling blades of the world’s largest helicopter.

Then I see her.

Gryphina, the Toho’s dragon protector.

How do I know she is female?

I can’t explain it. There are no tell-tale signs on the daikaiju. I simply know without knowing.

Gryphina plunges out of the clouds like a giant, dive-bombing griffin. And I guess that’s what she is, more or less.

Gryphina’s face is that of a horned owl. However, two sets of bulbous, segmented, blue eyes jut from her flat, feathered countenance. They serve as bookends for her sharp, orange beak. And twin antennae rise like horns from the dragon’s forehead in place of an owl’s feathered tufts.

Also, there are her wings. They are not feathered. In fact, they are not the wings of bird, period.

Two pairs more suited to a dragon fly than a griffin extend from beneath the open carapace of spotted, indigo chitin resting on her back. The wings split the sky for nearly a mile from tip to tip.
 
Blues, oranges, and whites dance across their iridescent surfaces, forming dynamic patterns reminiscent of those found on the robes of the Toho.

This color palette continues throughout Gryphina’s body, oscillating in the feathers lining her feline-shaped form before terminating above four feet equipped with talons large and sharp enough to carve riverbeds into the earth.

Gryphina is a creature of lethal majesty. Being too near her would be like flying too close to the sun—you would perish while still gazing in awe at your glorious destroyer.

The guardian daikaiju lands in front of the shobijin in the hurricane of dust stirred up by its massive wings. Zodon retreats several earth-shattering backward steps, giving Gryphina her space. The twin priestesses somehow manage to remain on their feet despite the Earth quaking beneath them.

I can’t help but notice, for all Gryphina’s size, she isn’t as large or as fearsome-looking as her opponent. The realization causes my hammering heart to leap into my throat.

The dragons posture and roar at one another, their cries meeting in the air like warring cyclones.

Then it’s on!

Gryphina strikes the first blow. The dragon pounces, toppling Zodon and pinning him against the mountainside opposite the volcano and sending more boiling clouds of dust into the atmosphere.

The beasts gnash and rake at each other with tooth and claw. Each strike draws rivers of blood. But the beasts are so large and so tough that the wounds amount to little more than minor scrapes and cuts.

The ground beneath our feet quakes as the creatures battle. I hug onto the tree in front of me for dear life. The shobijin stand locked in a trance, their eyes rolled back in their heads, seemingly oblivious to the war of monsters raging directly in front of them.

But that’s not the truth at all.

Zodon slices a claw down the side of Gryphina’s face, opening the daikaiju just below its bottom left eye. I gasp in shock as I see a similar cut appear on the left cheek of either shobijin.

Kitsune told me the shobijin were somehow linked to Gryphina. At the time, I thought she just meant some empathic, spiritual mumbo-jumbo. And that’s probably true enough. But apparently their bond also extends to the physical.

Zodon breaks free of Gryphina’s hold, knocking the she-dragon away with a swipe of his pommeled tail. Zodon launches skyward in a blast of wind and dust, forcing us to hug the trees and shut our eyes.

Gryphina rockets after him, taking to the sky with incredible grace and speed for something so impossibly large. The two dragons meet in the air and tumble and roll as they battle among the thunderheads.

It quickly becomes apparent Zodon has made a grievous error in taking wing. Here, Gryphina’s smaller size proves to be an asset. The Toho guardian is much swifter and maneuvers more easily among the clouds. She uses these traits to their full advantage.

She flies circles around Zodon, opening new wounds on the great, black dragon with each pass.

Sensing Gryphina’s impending victory, the Toho begin to shout and cheer. They are so distracted by the battle they fail to see the black arrow that slices through the air to strike Sister Momoko in the chest.

Gryphina shrieks in pain and begins flying erratically. At first I’m confused as to why. But then I realize the link between Gryphina and the shobijin must run both ways. The daikaiju is feeling the pain of her wounded priestess!

The shobijin snap out of their trance. Both look down in horror at the feathered shaft protruding from Momoko’s chest.

I search the woods with my eyes, frantic to locate the archer. I see nothing.

“Sister!” Mosura whispers in disbelief.

There’s an audible whistling of wind and then a second arrow shoots through the air to pierce Sister Mosura’s chest.

“No!” I scream.

Far too late, I spot the shooter—Bakeneko.

I knew there was something off about her!

She stands at the edge of the tree-line opposite us, her bow still in hand. She cackles and then turns and disappears into the forest with a swirl of robe.

The shobijin fall to the ground, their movements graceful even in this final motion.

Gryphina trills weakly and begins to spiral out of control through the air.

Zodon’s eyes blaze with the realization of its opponent’s felled state. All three of the black dragon’s maws open wide and bolts of brilliant, sizzling lightning leap from the daikaiju’s throats to strike Gryphina full-on. The Toho guardian disintegrates in an explosion of smoke and flame that rocks the Earth and lights the sky for miles around.