Bradley, Marion Zimmer - Brass Dragon

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Marion Zimmer Bradley The Brass Dragon

From the moment Barry wakes up in a strange hospital bed, events take an extraordinary and terrifying

turn. Suffering from total amnesia - the only clues to his past are a pair of overalls and a brass dragon - he

begins to retrace his steps. The story unfolds in gripping intensity as he learns how he was captured by an

alien race and abandoned on Mars with his fellow Galactic citizens - hunted by the dikri, the shape-

changers, whose dragon-like appearance terrifies anyone who sees them. ...

First published in Great Britain 1978 by Methuen Children's Books Ltd

11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE

Published by arrangement with Charter Communications Inc

Printed in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd,

London, Reading and Fakenham

ISBN 0 416 86370 1

Contents

PART 1

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

PART 2

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

PART 3

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

'No, Rellin!'

The scream crashed through the silence, and I woke up.

I sat up, blinking, and pain thundered through my head like the scream. My

head felt huge, as if it were something balanced precariously on my

shoulders. I eased the clumsy thing back down to the pillow, and cautiously

slitted my eyes open again.

People screaming all over the place! Might as well be in the nut house.

Instead of - I blinked again and came all the way awake:

This wasn't my bedroom!

The walls were white, and the window was white, too, and not curtained.

There were Venetian blinds, and thick sunlight made streaks through them

and lay, in yellow barred glare, on the wall. The glare hurt my eyes, and I

shut them again. Where was I? And why were people screaming all over

the place, so loud that it might as well be right in the-

For God's sake, it was right in the room!

I had screamed.

I put my hands up to my face. Where was I, and what was going on? I

touched my face, and then I had the second shock:

My face was rough. I had a beard.

A beard? At my age? I'd shaved about twice in my life. That wasn't bad, for

seventeen, but here I was with my chin rough and scratchy with a full-grown

beard. Where was I? What had happened?

The door opened, and a nurse came into the room. and things suddenly

clicked and fell into place.

Accident. I had had an accident, and I was in a hospital. Maybe a car had

hit me on my way home from school-

The nurse was dressed in white, like most nurses. She was dark, and

pretty, and smiling. 'Is something wrong?' she asked.

Wrong? Was anything right?

'I heard you cry out again - that was you, wasn't it?'

'Oh. Oh, yes, that was me.'

'Have you been dreaming again?' She sounded concerned.

Again? What was that supposed to mean? 'I'm sorry. I'm feeling pretty dim

just now. Have I been screaming before this?'

She nodded. 'Yes. Don't you remember? Last night you woke up three

times, shouting something about a railing. Can you remember now what it

was? Did you fall through a railing, perhaps?'

'I don't know,' I said slowly. 'I assume I'm in a hospital. Is this Herrick?'

She nodded, smiling. 'Yes, this is Hendrick Hospital. So you know where

you are? That's wonderful. Perhaps you'll remember, in a little while, what

happened, and what all this is about railings.'

I frowned, and wished I hadn't: it hurt. It didn't sound like me. I didn't have

nightmares, and I hadn't screamed since I was thirteen and slammed my

fingernail in the car door. Why could I remember that, and not anything

closer? Railings? I racked my brain, trying to remember what it was that I'd

screamed - or dreamed. I couldn't remember, but for some strange reason I

was sure it had nothing to do with a railing.

'Dr Bannon said he wanted to see you when you woke up,' the nurse said.

'I'll call him,' she added as she went out.

Dr Bannon? I'd never heard the name. I rubbed my hand against that

strange wrongness of my face again, mostly because it kept me from

thinking. Somewhere at the back of my mind I was beginning to get scared.

There was something wrong. Something I halfway knew about, and didn't

dare think about yet. I knew that if I let myself think about it, that vague little

bit of fear at the back of my mind would come roaring out like a tiger and I'd

start screaming the place down again.

After a while, the door swung quietly open again, and a man stood in the

door.

I'd never seen the man before, but I knew by his white coat that he was a

doctor. He was youngish, with grey eyes and dark hair, and he frowned a

little as he looked at me. Was I hurt as badly as all that?

'Miss Taylor tells me you've decided to wake up,' he said pleasantly, but his

eyes stayed fixed right on me. 'How do you feel now?'

Experimentally, I moved. No casts, nothing seriously damaged or out of

place, though there was something stiff and rustly on the calf of my leg that

felt like a bandage, and my elbow felt queer. 'My head aches a bit. Apart

from that, I guess I'm okay. What happened, anyway? An accident?'

*We were hoping you could tell us that,' he said slowly. *We don't know; a

policeman found you lying in the street and brought you to the emergency

room. We took X-rays to make sure your skull wasn't fractured; otherwise

you're not badly hurt except for something like a burn on your leg and one

temple. Frankly, I can't quite imagine what sort of accident - but no, you're

not badly hurt. You should be all right in a day or two.'

"That's good,' I said, but unease was building up inside me again. I wasn't

hurt badly, maybe, but there was something -

'But now that you're awake and can talk sensibly, maybe you can tell us,' Dr

Bannon said. 'What happened?'

I tried thinking back. but it was like trying to remember what I'd screamed.

There was a curious, fuzzy sense of fear. and a great crash that seemed to

fill the sky...

'There was a crash,' I said slowly, 'and - and something must have hit me -

but I can't remember. I can't remember!'

'Easy, easy,' the doctor said hastily. 'Don't get excited. It will come back to

you. With a head injury, sometimes there's a memory lapse. Suppose we

get the rest straight first. There was no identification on you, you know, so

we haven't even been able to notify your family. First of all - who are you?'

And then it crashed in on me, and I knew what it was that I hadn't wanted to

feel. Why I'd kept my mind busy with so many unimportant questions. And

why I'd held so many questions back.

Who are you?

A simple enough question. The first thing they always ask. There was

nothing wrong with the question, just with the answer.

I didn't know who I was.

/ didn't know my own name!

I guess my face must have done something I didn't know about. Because

the next thing I knew the nurse was there with a little paper cup of

something that smelled funny, and Dr Bannon was saying 'Hey, hey, take it

easy, kid!'

I just lay there, feeling stunned and sick. The nurse held the paper cup

insistently to my mouth and I swallowed without arguing. Arguing wouldn't

do any good, anyhow.

"That, that - I mean - I've got to know.' I stammered. 'It doesn't make sense-

'Don't worry about it,' Bannon repeated. 'Above all, don't get excited. It

happens sometimes with a head injury. I'm sure you'll remember -'

A word flickered in my mind. 'Amnesia,' I said, interrupting the doctor's flow

of words. 'Have I got amnesia? But I thought people forgot everything, so if

I've forgotten my own name how do I know what amnesia is?'

He smiled. It made him look human, and likeable. 'Oh, there are different

forms of amnesia,' he said. 'So you've heard the word, though? That's

interesting. And you know what it means. Well, maybe you should know

enough not to worry, then. Sometimes people forget just the things

connected with their accident. Sometimes -'

But I didn't listen, because I knew what he was doing. He was just talking to

keep me from panicking, from yelling and screaming like a little kid.

What was the matter? Who was I?

I said helplessly, 'Why can't I remember my name?' and heard my voice

crack.

'What can you remember?' The doctor sounded calm and soothing. 'Miss

Taylor said you knew where you were.'

I'm in a hospital. Is it Herrick Hospital?'

Now he looked at me, startled. 'No,' he said, 'it's Hendrick hospital. Do you

know where that is?'

'Hendrick? I never heard of it,' I said, confused. 'Herrick is in Berkeley.' I

added, after a minute, 'Berkeley, California. Is this hospital in San

Francisco?*

Dr Bannon nodded. 'Now we're getting somewhere,' he said. 'Do you live in

California? Or - isn't Berkeley where the university is? Are you a student

there?'

'No,' I said, 'I'm not in college. Please, where is this?'

'Take it easy,' Dr Bannon said. 'Hendrick Hospital is in Abilene, Texas.'

Abilene, Texas! I lay back, feeling a little sick. I'd never been in Texas in my

life.

'I must have lost some time,' I said. 'What day is it?'

'What day do you think it ought to be?'

'June 4th, 1967 -' I shook my head, forgetting the bandage, and winced

again. 'Did I miss my - what day is it?'

Dr Bannon went out into the hall. He returned immediately with a

newspaper in his hand. The Abilene Daily News. He pointed, silently, to the

date:

September 2. 1968.

A year and three months!

'And when was I brought in here?'

It's Saturday now. They brought you in Wednesday night.' He smiled.

'What's the last thing you remember?'

Off in a corner of my mind there was something white, like - 'An albino

dwarf,' I said. 'No, that doesn't make sense - Nothing. I'm sorry.'

'Nothing to be sorry about.' Bannon was soothing me again, calming me

down, and I wished he wouldn't; I wanted to take this seriously.

'We've done some checking,' he said. 'You're not from me Army or the Air

Force, and you weren't wearing any military dog tag, so I don't imagine the

Navy or the Marines will claim you either; but it was worth checking.

Missing Persons in Texas had nothing on any boy near your age. We have

two leads. Give me that thing out on the desk,' he said to the nurse. When

she went out to get it, he said, 'So you're from California. Have you lived

there long? We can check with Missing Persons there, you know.'

The nurse came back with a long yellow sheet.

'It's routine, when we get anyone unidentified, to check with military AWOL

lists, and Missing Persons,' he said. The police teletypes send out bulletins.

Now, there are dozens of juveniles reported missing every month, but we

could eliminate quite a number of them right away. And remember anything

later than '67- Let me see - Portland, Maine, white male, blond, sixteen

years old. Nels Angstrom - I think we can rule him out. You're not blond.'

I frowned. 'I don't think - Nels Angstrom didn't sound right.'

'From Los Angeles, wanted for armed robbery, Pedro Menendez - no,

you're not Mexican, and I doubt if you're as much as twenty. From Seattle,

Lloyd Sanderson, age eighteen, white, male, American, brown hair, dark

eyes - that might be you; reported missing two months ago. We've wired

the juvenile authorities in Seattle. Let me see - Berkeley, California, Barry

Francis Cowan, age seventeen, missing from May '67, five-foot-eight - well,

you could have grown an inch. We wired Mr Cowan, and he said he would

fly in tonight just on the chance, but he said he'd made four flights already,

to New York, and a couple of other places, to identify someone claiming to

be his son. So if you're Cowan or Sanderson-*

'I don't know,' I said, and felt like crying. 'Juvenile authorities?'

'It's routine when someone turns up missing,' the doctor said quickly; 'it

doesn't mean you've committed a crime.'

'Did I have anything at all on me when I came in? I mean - no wallet, keys,

money?'

'Just the clothes you had on, and a couple of pieces of junk in the pockets,'

Dr Bannon said.

'Can I see the clothes?'

'Get his clothes,' Bannon said to the nurse, and she went to a locker at one

end of the room. She took out a brown coverall, and laid it across the bed. I

eased my head up and took it in my hands.

It was rough and brown, woven of something like denim. Pants and shirt

were all in one piece, and it zipped up the front. He said, 'It looks as if

something had been ripped off the arm. That's why we checked the Army

and Air Force.'

I turned it over in my hands. The rough looking material felt curiously soft to

the touch. Without quite knowing why, I turned it over to the breast pocket,

and frowned. Something had been ripped from that, too. It was a large

irregular patch of lightish fabric. The nurse said, 'Oh, yes. It could be an

eagle or something.'

I shook my head. 'I was wearing this?'

'You don't recognise it?'

'Sorry. Where did it come from?'

'I don't know,' Bannon confessed. 'As I say, I thought it might be uniform

stuff - that material's amazingly strong and light, so of course I thought of

the Armed Forces. But they said no. It might have been made overseas, of

course. And of course, with all the new synthetics - ' He shrugged.

'What about the pockets?' I demanded impatiently.

He opened a drawer in the night table beside the bed, and took out a small

object.

'Eighty cents in silver - it's downstairs in an envelope - and this thing.'

He handed it to me. It was about the size of a rabbit's foot, brass, and it

was a little dragon. About two inches long, but a dragon, a brass dragon -

With a sharp intake of breath, I dropped the trinket on the bedclothes and

grabbed up the coverall again. Examining the darkish ripped patch, I held it

against the brass dragon. Yes. The patch was clearly dragon-shaped. Not

an eagle. A dragon. I turned out the inside of the shirt with trembling

fingers. There were still threads on the inner side, and the material showed

signs of weakening there.

Why had the emblem been ripped off?

I picked up the Brass Dragon - strange, how I capitalised it in my mind - and

examined it, with a feeling of horror. I didn't like touching it.

It was about two inches long. There was a small slot-shaped extrusion at

the bottom, and I looked carefully at it, squinting my eyes, for anything that

might say Made in USA or Made in Japan or anything of the usual kind.

There was nothing. I rubbed my finger over the slot. Something had been

broken from it, too; there was a rough spot there. And the dragon...

It seemed to grow, to fill the whole room - Without thinking, I screamed. And

screamed again.

'No! Rellin, no!'

And everything went a lovely velvet black.

CHAPTER TWO

When I woke up the next time, there were rails around the bed. I examined

them for a minute, then lay back and decided I deserved it. If I was going to

act like a nut, they'd have to treat me like one. What had got into me, to fly

off the handle that way? I felt like a loaded gun with the safety catch off;

anything might happen at any time. I didn't like the feeling one bit.

'Awake again?' A very young nurse popped her head in the door. This one

had red hair, cut short enough so that only two or three stray curls peeked

out under the cap; and instead of a full uniform she had on something like a

blue-and-white striped bib apron. The little pin on the front of the apron said

Lisa Barnard. 'Are you feeling better? I'm sorry, I don't know your name-'

'Neither do I,' I said, grinning for the first time since this had started, and her

face turned so red that the freckles looked pink.

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