by Susan Harris
Donnie made sure that he cast his eyes over the far reaches of the wood, waiting for some kind of nasty to leap out and attack them. The mist seemed to swirl around him, as if it was sentient, and perhaps it was, for the mist kept grazing his face, his arms. The shock of ice cold on his skin felt like a burn.
They walked deeper still into the forest until Donnie heard a rush of water, the only sound he had heard apart from the ones they made themselves. He jerked his head toward it, motioning for Ricky to follow him as Donnie veered off to the right, toward the sound of water, doing so when the compass flickered in the direction of where the water sounded.
The compass in his hand began to heat, searing his skin, but he could not let the thing go. Instead, Donnie gritted his teeth and broke into a jog, trying to reach the water quicker.
The dark of the forest suddenly had a sliver of light toward the end, and Donnie broke through the ashen mist and fog and ground to a halt before a quantity of bubbling water.
Ricky stumbled over his stop and would have gone into the spring had Donnie not grabbed the collar of his jacket, snatching him back from the water’s edge. A bubble drifted toward Donnie, popping in his face, and the water stung the skin on his cheek.
“Well, that seems out of place,” Ricky said as he leaned forward and tried to get a closer look. The water itself was as gray and white as the fog and mist, and while the water appeared to be hot enough to burn, there was no hint of that, no steam, no obvious heat identifiers.
“This whole forest seems out of place.”
The compass flared in Donnie’s palm as he spoke, pushing him in the direction of the opposite side of the bubbling water. Donnie nudged Ricky forward, his friend humming the melody to R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It.” Donnie shook his head with a smile tugging at his lips.
That smile began to fall as his eyes fell on a point of reentry into the forest and what sat in front of it, with eyes the color of the darkest black.
“Is that what I think it is, or am I fucking hallucinating?” Ricky asked softly, a slight waver in his tone.
“Naw, mate. It’s exactly what you think it is.”
A fucking dragon … a massive, black, scaled dragon blocked their path, its eyes trained on them, and as Donnie swore, he could have sworn that the dragon smiled.
Well, its lips curved to reveal teeth as sharp as blades, as white as the finest ivory.
The dragon lifted up off the ground, rising to almost fifteen feet high, its scales rippling as it shook itself out, and the ground shifted underneath Donnie’s feet. Donnie’s first thought was that the dragon was beautiful in a lethal sort of way. Its body was sleek, probably armored scales and flesh. Its feet were the size of a truck, and those claws looked like they could gut Donnie without much effort.
“I don’t have enough bullets for this,” Ricky muttered beside him.
Donnie clasped him on the shoulder as he replied, “I don’t think our puny guns would do anything but piss it off, Ricky.”
They glanced toward the dragon, who snorted, a stream of steam coming out of its nostrils.
“The nightwalker is correct. The bullets will only piss me off, and it has been many millennia since I have dined on beings such as yours. Come, join me a moment, and I will aid you on your quest.” The dragon’s voice boomed across the lake, sending a shiver down Donnie’s spine.
When neither Donnie nor Ricky made an attempt to move, the dragon shook itself out and its scales rippled, the scent of magic in the air. Its massive body began to shrink before their eyes until a woman with hair of obsidian stood naked on the other side of the lake. She pulled a bearskin cloak over her shoulders, covering her skin and the scales of black that still lingered on flesh that appeared human and was not.
Ricky sucked in a breath, then began to walk around the bubbling water and toward the dragon. She sucked in breath herself and unleashed a blast of flames from her lips, lighting a fire and holding her hands over the flame.
The warlock was the first to reach the dragon and the fire, and he did as the dragon did, putting his hands close to the fire. His face instantly relaxed as the heat hit his skin, and he let loose a sigh, then glanced at the dragon.
“It is okay, Firestarter. It is disconcerting to be free of your magic when it is a considerable part of who you are.”
Ricky flashed the dragon an apologetic smile. “I used to want it gone, the magic, but ya, I understand what you mean.”
Donnie saw the dragon smile as if the two were sharing a secret, but then the dragon turned her focus on Donnie. “Come closer, night stalker.”
Knowing better than to disobey what was obviously an order, Donnie stepped closer to the dragon, who lifted Donnie’s palm and flicked her tongue over the blood staining his hand.
“Yes, yes, Tyr chose right. This quest is true. Once your resolve is tested, then the weapon you desire is yours.”
Donnie slowly took his hand back. “Can you tell us about why Tyr would have sent us here?”
The dragon smiled, a feral gesture that reminded Donnie of death. “This world was one of the first two realms ever created, not by Odin and his brothers, but from Ginnungagap, the great and yawning emptiness that existed before the time of the gods and monsters. In the beginning, there was nothing but darkness, and thus, Niflheim came to be.”
Listening to the tale from the dragon made Donnie feel like he should have done more research on the mythology surrounding Ever and her father, yet there was something utterly magical about hearing the story told, by a fucking dragon nonetheless, that had Donnie keeping his lips clamped shut as the fire crackled.
“I am Níðhöggr or in your Midgardian tongue, Nidhug, the guardian of the spring Hvergelmir, which is the source of all the eleven rivers. Hvergelmir is the origin of all that is living and the place where every living being will go back. It is also said that from the rivers, Yggdrasil took root and Hvergelmir is one of its sources.”
Ricky rubbed his hands together, then frowned. “Isn’t Niflheim the closest to Hel?”
The dragon smiled, and it was all teeth. “It is. Hel was created in the shadow of the darkest realm. One does not venture here unless they must.”
Nidhug gestured toward the forest. “You must decide if you wish to take this quest upon you, and I am responsible for conveying the consequences of failure. To be deemed worthy to pass through to the other side of the realm, to find what it is that you seek, each of you will step into the forest alone, each on their own path.”
The dragon ran her dark gaze over Ricky. “However, I promise to return you to your own world if you forgo this quest and lay with me. It has been an age since I was in flesh, and you are not hideous.”
Donnie nearly laughed and would have done so had it not been for the serious expression on the dragon’s face. Ricky grinned at her with that charming smile of his, then let his face appear sad.
“In another space and time, I would have taken you up on that offer. But I have a mate at home that I adore, and I would never cheat. I’m flattered you think I’m not hideous, but I have to decline.”
The dragon nodded as if that was all she needed. “Each of you must pass the test to come out the other side of the forest, and when you do, the weapon you need will be within reach. But the path must be walked alone.”
The dragon waved her hand, and the foliage shifted, revealing a second pathway. Donnie and Ricky glanced at one another, then Ricky rolled back his shoulders. “So we walk in and just walk out again? What’s the catch?”
Nidhug mouth widened displaying teeth.. “This realm is the realm of darkness, of mist and fog, of ice. But mostly darkness. Every being carries darkness within them, the capacity to allow the darkness to take over and let it control them.” The dragon glanced at Ricky. “You once succumbed to the darkness, and it was the light of love and family that roused you from it.”
“That darkness will always be a part of me. I can’t change what happened to me. But it do
es not define me.”
Donnie glanced at his friend, knowing exactly how dark Ricky’s mind had gotten and how they almost lost him. Donnie was proud of the fact that Ricky had gotten the help he needed, and now, he was a much better father and mate for it.
Ignoring Ricky’s fighting words, the dragon edged closer to the forest, which seemed to grow darker the closer she got. “Each of you must choose to follow the path yourself. Alone. If you do not pass the test of the realm, then, like all living things that are created here, you will be trapped here for all eternity, never to leave.”
Donnie suppressed a shiver, trying to push down the nerves in his stomach as he considered her words. Sure, he could turn back now and the world could end anyways. He thought of his Cait, his reason for being. They had traveled a rocky path to get to where they were now, and he would be damned if a god would stop him from his forever. One such person, a vampire who thought himself a god, had tried to take away their forever once before, and Donnie was a stubborn SOB.
“Let’s do this.”
The compass fizzled and turned to ash in his palm.
“The compass has led you here, completed its purpose. It is no longer needed.”
Donnie eyed the dragon as Ricky strode up to the forest entrance and took a quick look inside. Taking a step back with his lips curved up, he held out his fist for Donnie to tap.
“Why the hell are you grinning?”
“This shit will make us legends. Whatever happens when we step inside, you and me will fight to the death to get to the other side of it. Failure is not an option. You don’t come out, and I don’t go back. We ride together. We die together.”
“Bad boys for life.” The last part they said together, an easy smile on each of their faces after years of shared memories, of triumph and loses. There was a truth in the way people said that blood doesn’t always mean family, and Ricky and him were brothers in all the ways that mattered.
“Don’t be getting sentimental on me now, Donnie. I’ll see you on the other side.”
Before Donnie could say anything more, Ricky rolled his shoulders and marched into the forest. He had barely gone a few feet when the mist and fog engulfed him and Donnie could no longer see his friend.
Donnie peered over his shoulder at the dragon, her scales shimmering as she shifted her naked flesh under the heavy bearskin. Donnie wished for a minute that his heart still beat, for he didn’t trust the eerie calm that settled in his bones, the resolve that steadied his nerves and straightened his spine. He stepped closer to the mouth of the forest, thought he could hear whispers on the wind.
A sane man would feel fear. A sane man would not feel the simmering excitement that felt like a rush of blood to his head. He had spent his human life running headfirst into situations that heightened his emotions, whether that was on the field, in a bar, or life in general. He had sought death or oblivion before with the same calm as he felt now, and Donnie wondered why he wasn’t more terrified of not succeeding.
“Failure is not an option. You know you must succeed. In your human life, it was the calm rage in you that meant winning or losing. The field is different, but the outcome is the same. If you waver, then Odin may well win. If you succeed, then crowds will rejoice and the sun will rise once more on your Midgard.”
Donnie swallowed hard, not wanting to return to the shell of a man he had been before Caitlyn had saved him, but the dragon spoke the truth. Failure was unthinkable. He would succeed. He would play his part and help save the world.
“You step on that field, O’Carroll, and erase all the thoughts from your mind that tell you that you can’t win. You pray to whatever god you want, and once you put your boots on that grass, you play as if the blood of gods runs through your veins, because on the field, you are a machine and a god all rolled into one. Fear cannot win.”
The words of his former coach played in his head as Donnie nodded at the dragon, whose eyes gleamed as Donnie muttered, “Fear cannot win.”
He repeated the mantra over and over like he once did, when his heart beat and blood quickened his pulse. He strode into the mist and fog with his head held high, let the sharp coldness wash over him as it seemed to seep into his veins, his bones and then his heart, piercing him like a shard of a blade as he gritted his teeth together and let himself be dragged farther into darkness.
Ricky
* * *
Ricky felt the frigid cold of the mist in his veins, felt it as completely unnatural to him, considering the fire that usually simmered under his skin. Then it had an iron grip on his heart that had him squeezing his eyes shut and sucking in a sharp breath against the pain of it.
“Are you still a wimp, boy?”
Ricky’s eyes sprang open at the sound of a voice that had haunted him for years, and he took an involuntary step back. Xavier Moore stood in front of him, the same black hair, the same scowl on his face as he had worn throughout Ricky’s life. His eyes were the same green as Ricky’s.
“You look frightened, boy. Are you not happy to see me?”
“Looks like not even death meant I was free of you,” Ricky snarled as he took in his surrounds.
They stood on the landing in his childhood home, where many an argument had taken place. He’d been standing there the first time Xavier had lashed out at him, when he had tried to deflect his father’s anger from Killian. The first time Xavier had lamped him square in the jaw, Ricky had lost some teeth. He’d been eight years old at the time.
Ricky shook his head and made to descend the stairs when his father called after him. “Still running away from things, I see. Always such a disappointment, boy. And now even more so.”
Ricky ignored Xavier and went downstairs until his feet took him to the fridge, and he took a beer from the fridge. He was already drinking it when Xavier walked inside with him.
“Don’t you dare run away from me, boy. We have things to discuss so I can be free of you.”
Ricky lifted his beer in a mock salute. “Xavier, I don’t have time to listen to your BS. You’re dead. I’ve made peace with how I feel about you, and because of you, I know what kind of a father not to be.”
“I warned you about the cat a long time ago. Now you have an offspring who is neither warlock nor shifter. He defies the nature of who we are.”
Ricky’s anger coursed through his veins as he set his beer down on the counter. “Now I know you didn’t insinuate that my kid was an abomination, right? Wanna know what it feels like to get sucker-punched?”
Xavier laughed as he smirked at Ricky. “You have me here now, boy. Now is the time to say everything that you want to say to me. You sullied yourself with drugs and alcohol so that you would not be like me. Now, you are a leech that preys on others’ magic to survive. You have become the son I always wanted. Does that twist you up inside? Tell me, boy, now that you are even more powerful than I could have dreamed of, what say you?”
“I think you talk too much, Da. I’m nothing like you.”
Xavier smiled back at him. “If you truly thought that, then I would not be the one here testing you.”
Quicker than possible for his father, Xavier launched himself at Ricky and clasped his head at the base of his neck, slamming his head down on the counter and into one of Ricky’s painful memories.
Ricky sat at the kitchen table; his fingers clenched together on the wood as his mother fixed a pot of tea while they awaited his da. Unlike any other family he knew, Ricky had to schedule this meeting with his parents over a week ago, his da’s work commitments and social obligations meaning any important conversations had to be held at a time that suited his da’s hectic day.
Now he could have had this conversation with just his mam, have her give his da the news, but if his da was going to have a meltdown over his decision, then he might as well have his mam for back up. Watching his mam bustle about, fixing tea for the ten minutes Xavier Moore had allocated his eldest son, Ricky felt sad that his mam seemed perfectly happy to be an armpiece whe
n needed.
Xavier Moore came into the house a few seconds later, and Ricky listened as his da completed his home time ritual. Keys pinged as they were set down into the glass bowl on the side. Shoes set down on the hardwood floor before his da slid his briefcase into the closet under the stairs. Ricky could hear Xavier tapping away at his tablet as he strode into the kitchen, pausing to kiss his wife’s cheek before he sat down across the table from Ricky.
Only when his da had taken a drink of his tea and set down his tablet organizer on the table did he lift his eyes to look at Ricky. Settling back into the chair, Xavier checked his watch before he spoke.
“I have ten minutes until I have to answer a conference call from an American warlock. Get started, boy.”
Boy … it was always boy ...
“I’ve made a decision about college, sir.”
Xavier’s brow quirked at the “sir,” knowing full well that his son would rather choke then call his da sir. His mam squeezed his shoulder as she sat down alongside Ricky, and Ricky hesitated with his next words, waiting for his da to question him. A smack to the mouth the last time Ricky had spoken out of turn had given him a split lip.
“I’m glad you have finally been man enough to make an informed decision. I assume business and magical politics will be your main areas of study?”
Ricky swallowed hard. “No, sir.”
Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing together in a firm line. “Well, boy ... what will you be studying?”
Ricky’s mam fidgeted with the lace tablecloth, nervous as to how this was all going to turn out. Ricky squared his shoulders and looked his da dead in the eyes. If he was man enough to make an educated decision about his future, then he would sure as hell tell his da the truth.
“I’ve decided not to go to college at all, sir. I’ve signed up to join the Gardaí. I’m off to Templemore in two weeks.”
His mam covered her shock with a hand over her mouth while his da simply glared at him, expression void of any indication that Ricky’s words had affected him. Not a word was spoken for several heartbeats, and Ricky counted them, because he certainly could hear each one like a drum in his ear.
