Free Brechalon by Wesley Allison Page A

sitting down.
    He took a bite of sandwich and they were both
quiet for a moment.
    “ That’s your problem, you know,”
Yuah said quietly. “You never worry about anything.”
    “ You’re overstepping yourself,
little maid. It’s not your job to worry about what my problem is.”
He drained the milk bottle and set it down, hard, on the
table.
    “ Somebody has to. You’re hiding out
somewhere poisoning yourself, aren’t you?”
    “ Shut the hell up,” he said,
getting to his feet.
    “ You’re not taking care of yourself
and nobody else it either. I nursed you when you were little, but
who’s looking after you now?”
    “ And just who did you think you
were, when you were nursing me? My sister or my mother?”
    Yuah flushed.
    “ I see,” Terrence stepped close and
leaned down to look her in the face. “You thought you were my
woman. Well, you’re not.”
    Yuah felt tears flooding unbidden down her
cheeks. She wanted to scream that she wouldn’t marry an idiot like
him in a million years, but all that came out was “I hate
you!”
    “ Yeah, welcome to the club.” He
stood up and tossed the sandwich onto the table, where it fell
apart and scattered.
    Yuah jumped to her feet and rushed toward the
doorway, pausing just long enough to yell once more at Terrence.
She wanted to tell him that he hated himself so much that he would
never be able to love anyone else, but all that came out was “You
can’t have me.”
    “ Why would I want a skinny little
bint like you?” shouted Terrence after her.
    * * * * *
    “ What do you suppose this is
supposed to be?” asked Arthur McTeague.
    “ I suppose it was a city a long
time ago,” replied Augie Dechantagne, with an emphasis on the
second word.
    The two lieutenants and the full platoon of
soldiers were standing on a smooth surface of stone slabs that had
been fitted together. There were steps here and there, breaking the
area up into several terraces of varying heights. In a few places
there were piles of stone that might have indicated that a wall had
once stood there, but there were no buildings. On the far side of
the clearing were a series of seven large stones. Each stood about
eight feet tall and they were roughly oval in shape. At either end
of the row were the remains of other similar stones that had once
stood in the line, but had long ago crumbled, either from exposure
to the elements or from ancient vandalism. Though those that
remained were weathered and worn, one could see that each had been
carved long ago to represent a dragon.
    A loud squawk announced the arrival of eight or
ten creatures that burst out of the trees and ran across the
ancient stones. They were only slightly larger than the average
chicken and were covered in hairy feathers, though their faces
looked all too reptilian and their mouths were full of needle sharp
teeth.
    “ Now, are those birds or
dinosaurs?” asked McTeague.
    Augie shrugged, but pulled out a book from his
tunic.
    “ And what’s that?”
    “ That my friend is called a book.
People, not artillery officers mind, but other people, sometimes
read them.”
    McTeague gave him a withering look. “What book
is it, you great tosser.”
    “ It's Colonel Mormont's journal. My
brother sent it to me.”
    “ Yes, I’ve heard of the chap. He
was here in Birmisia a few years ago, right?”
    Augie didn’t reply. He was busy flipping
through the pages.
    “ What does he say about those
little buggers?”
    “ Hold on a minute. I’m
looking.”
    McTeague folded his arms and waited. Several of
the men were chasing the small creatures around the edge of the
clearing.
    “ Here it is. Here it is. I knew I
recognized them.” Augie held up the open page to a drawing that did
indeed bear a strong resemblance to the creatures in
question.
    “ Buitreraptors,” McTeague read.
“Why do you suppose they all have to have such strange
names?
    “ You know how these naturalist
types are. Besides, if you just went with