Dragons vs. Drones by Wesley King

had to.
    After all, it was Dree who started the fire.
    When the cover of darkness finally fell, Lourdvang slipped out from under the overhanging ledge and glided through the valleys, staying at the base of the Teeth, where the deepest shadows could hide them. The night air was bitingly cold, and Dree dug her fingers into Lourdvang’s scales for warmth, icy tears streaming from her eyes and across numbed cheeks.
    They glided for what seemed like hours in and out of thejagged mountains, listening for the sounds of pursuers from above. It was terrifying—waiting for a dark eclipse against the night sky. But it was silent in the Teeth, other than the echoing calls of the few animals brave enough to live there. It was a long and eerie flight, and when they finally emerged from the Flames’ realm, back to where the mountains were fuller and squatter and covered with some greenery, they both relaxed. As Lourdvang gained altitude and headed back to the secret cave near the city, Dree finally had to ask.
    â€œIs something wrong?”
    Lourdvang paused for a long time. “What was that weapon?”
    Dree immediately understood.
    â€œSomething I created,” she said softly.
    â€œIn the shop?”
    â€œYes,” she replied, feeling a little defensive. “Just something I did on my own.”
    â€œA weapon to kill dragons.”
    Dree scowled. “A weapon, period. You know I don’t want to kill any dragons. Though I wouldn’t have complained if that one took out Helvath.”
    â€œIt’s powerful,” Lourdvang said. “Do any other humans have it?”
    â€œOf course not! I didn’t share anything useful with Wilhelm. Swords, spears, and axes were all I made for him.”
    Again, Lourdvang was silent for a moment. “If humans had the weapon you used today, they could probably wipe out the dragons once and for all. They would have mastered fire.”
    â€œThey won’t get it from me,” Dree said coolly, insulted that Lourdvang could ever think she would put the dragons in danger.
    Lourdvang didn’t reply, and they flew back to his cave in silence. Dree climbed off his back, nodded farewell, and stormed off toward the city, tired and cold and angry. She made the long walk down the mountain as quickly as she dared, stepping over divots and holes and then setting off across the meadow. The tall grass reached almost to her waist, and in the darkness her legs seemed to disappear into it. Dree jogged through the city outskirts toward the docks, and she heard the slurred shouts from drunks in the taverns. The wealthy Draconians, the ones with the fanged earrings and half-shaven heads and elaborate flame-resistant armor, strolled along the city streets, laughing and letting their leather boots clomp off the stones. They didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
    And why should they? They lived in stone manors and drank wine from the south and never worried about whether they could afford to put food on the table.
    They didn’t have to live on the docks.
    Dree soon arrived at her home, nestled in the sprawling, dirty splotch of wooden shacks perched on the edge of the lake. There were too many people for too small of a place: The little huts were basically built against one another, their ragged curtains pulled tight to afford what little privacy was possible. The roads were tired stone, cracked and worn, and everything smelled like fish. It was a tough place, but it was home.
    Dree eased her front door open, sneaking in like a strayshadow. The smells of charred wood from the fireplace and goat stew wafted over her nose. Her mother had probably left some in the pot for her, hardening now to congealed paste. She made it right through the small main room and into her bedroom, relieved she hadn’t woken her parents. They had probably just assumed Master Wilhelm kept her working late, which wouldn’t have been a first. She didn’t have the energy to