One faery was too slow. Her claws squeezed his arms and wings, ripping him off the back of his manticore as she swooped upwards out of reach of any arrows. He screamed defiantly, twisting as he tried to free his sword. They were supposed to capture, not kill, but his blade nicked her torso. Pain shocked her and she reflexively opened her claw. His screams of defiance mutated to wails of fear as his large, round eyes opened wide and he grappled futilely to hold onto her. She could not take her eyes from his terrified face as he tumbled, watching until he crashed onto the distant floor of the clearing, broken and unmoving. She wondered how badly Ao Shun would scold her.
The roar in her ears dissipated as she returned to the battle. Veering upwards, she banked, then hurtled back down for another pass. Her second fireball was less enthusiastic; they were only meant to frighten Finaarva’s forces, not destroy them. Ao Shun had drilled into them that Oberon wanted to reunite all the faeries, that the only enemy was Finaarva.
As she banked a third time, the tree tops beyond the vale waved as if alive and the forest rumbled. She halted, her wings beating the air so she could hover, but others in her hong continued their plunge. Suddenly, just as those dragons reached the trees, a dozen giants burst out of the woods. Bare chested save for golden torcs on their upper arms and swirling tattoos on their chests, they each carried spears thick as tree trunks with long, iron heads. All wore plaid kilts and knee-high woolen boots. They were just enough shorter than the trees that their presence had remained hidden.
The lead dragon of those who had not held back was immediately pierced by three spears and tumbled, crashing into the ground. The other dragons tried to bank sharply, beating their wings hard enough that the gusts slowed the giants’ progress. The two closest to the giants, however, both found massive hands clutching their legs. Spears pierced their wings and bodies while additional hands grappled their bodies, tackling the pair to the earth where monstrous fists pummeled them until they lay still.
She threw her head back and roared, her brothers doing the same on either side. Drawing wings tight against her body, she plummeted, her belly glowing so brightly that it cast its own light. The giants barely had time to glance up before three fireballs detonated in their midst. The explosion was deafening. Arms, legs, and heads flew and the nearest trees burst into flame.
As the debris settled, not a single giant remained and the Sluagh Sidhe fled back into the Ath Dara, the ogres tromping close behind. Goblins cowered, their weapons cast aside, as they squealed, pleading for their lives to be spared. Trees smoldered, their needles singed away, and acrid smoke plumed upward.
It was over. Her first battle had lasted no more than a few minutes and victory was theirs, but she felt only sorrow as she stared at the remains of the three dragons of her hong who had perished. Then a loud, high-pitched roar from one of Ao Shun’s hong ordered the dragons to regroup. She wasn’t surprised, as it was apparent King mac Lir’s army could easily deal with the survivors.
As she soared upward, Wu Zhao abruptly realized only a single rainbow lingered. She frowned, glancing about for Ao Shun and his hong.
The rainbow’s eye ridges were pinched in anger. “Ao Shun has asked me to express that you have all done well. The Daoine Sidhe are victorious this day and all faeries now know whom the dragons support. However, not all is well. You must follow me. We fly to the Cavern of the Ascendants.”
♦ ♦ ♦
At the sight of the Cavern’s devastation, she wept. Scorch marks remained where perches along the sea cliffs had once been. She had sat there for hours when she was young, watching with wide eyes as her father dove in a spin or a pirouette, disappearing for a bit before bursting out of the water with a silver fish clasped in his jaw. She would shriek with delight as he’d toss it onto the perch, then land, gently wrapping a wing around her while she ate.
Now the perches were rubble at the cliff base. The body of a blue dragon sprawled across the wreckage in a position that was impossible except in death. Waves lapped, moving the body slightly back and forth in a mockery of life and another dragon behind her sobbed.
“How could this happen?” Wu Fei whispered as they glided over the rocky beach towards the cavern’s mouth. Neither she nor Wu Tian answered. All the colors who had fought in the morning’s battle soared like silent phantoms alongside, eyes scouring the horrific vista as they followed the rainbow who led them.
No one was prepared for the sight of the entrance. The left half had collapsed, boulders and debris clogging the wide opening. Tendrils of smoke twisted upwards like ghosts escaping a grave. A trio of bodies lay in a clump as if they were no more than discarded trash. Her heart sank, and fear ensnared her. If it’s this bad here, she thought, what will we see inside?
“Did anyone even try to fight?” a nearby red asked, but the rainbow did not answer.
To enter the cavern, they had to form two rows, but entry became jumbled as each dragon halted at the horrific scene and the terrible cloying stench of death that greeted them.
The bodies of the mature ones and elders lay in ordered lines, but that was the only neatness in the cavern. Every neck had been severed and many of the bodies had been ripped open. Rivulets of blood ran to the center, winding among the remains of the Three Pools of Renewal, outlining the rubble in dark red.
Mercifully, most of the bodies in this area had been burned. Not scorched with a fireball’s sudden, fierce heat, but blackened as if an intense flame had been carefully applied. No dragon was responsible, then. Only faery magic could burn like that. She glanced hesitatingly towards where she’d last seen her parents near the ruins of the Three Pools. The bodies were smoking husks.
As the initial shock turned to numbness and then a rumble of anger, the air at the back of the cavern rippled, revealing a broad, bulky shape stepping away from the wall.
“I am very sorry for your loss,” said Ao Shun, his voice deep and mournful as he trudged towards them. He stood alone, his shoulders slouched. “By the time we realized Finaarva’s attack of Tir-nam-beo was a diversion, it was too late. The mistake is wholly mine, and if you need vengeance, I will no more resist than your parents did. I ask only for enough time to help you understand what happened.”
As Ao Shun’s words sunk in, she realized the Great Ones, the elders, and the mature ones—even her parents—had willingly allowed themselves to be executed. Their sin had been atoned with their deaths, as they had expected, but they had been slaughtered like cattle and their bodies desecrated, a sin too great for any dragon to forgive.
“Finaarva somehow learned the path the Great Ones chose. When we fought at Tir-nam-beo and I realized that none of his changelings were there, I sent a phalanx of my rainbows, my greatest hong. They caught the last of the changelings leaving and destroyed them, but already the elders and your parents were dead.”
“But why?” asked Wu Fei. “I thought they had honored their promise to Finaarva to not enter the war. Why would he care?”
“Honor their promise, your parents did. Finaarva may have simply wished to dishearten those of us who fight. He knew the day would come when the dragons would enter the war and turn the tide. For the first time, King mac Lir and the Daoine Sidhe are winning. However, I think it more likely that evil is so deep within the hearts of the Sluagh Sidhe, especially the changelings, that they could not resist the chance to spill dragon blood.”
“They did more than spill blood,” Wu Fei muttered loudly, rage in his eyes and a glow in his gullet. The other dragons nodded as they stared at the desecrated bodies.
“Yes, they did,” hissed Wu Tian. Wu Zhao watched her brother’s eyes darken, no longer with sadness, but with bitter ferocity. “They have taken the hearts to eat.” He spat out the last sentence with a venom she had never heard from a dragon.
The colors roared with anger, their faces burning with a mad fury that would not be easily quenched. Several spewed fireballs at the ceiling and, where they struck, the roof smoldered. Some approached Ao Shun with a mur
derous gleam, her brothers at the forefront.
“Did you not foresee this?” Wu Tian snarled. “You are supposed to be wise!”
“It’s Ao Shun’s fault!” Wu Fei howled, and others took up his cry, crowding closer to the ancient dragon.
True to his word, the First Ascendant made no move to defend himself and might have died at that moment had she hesitated.
Anger had not consumed her heart, not like it had her brothers. Ao Shun had not told them all of what he knew or suspected, but he seemed to understand the rage of a mob. His willingness to die for the crime of others who were not even dragon was too great a sacrifice. She could not allow him to pay an unwarranted price.
The eyes of those closest to her gleamed with desired vengeance and she knew what she must do. Instantly, her gullet warmed, glowing like a warning beacon to her brothers and those beside them. They ignored her, continuing to press forward. She glared, then blew a fireball that singed the noses of the seething mass.
They halted, startled. She leaped in front, spreading her wings to block the path to Ao Shun.
“No!” she cried. “Cease this madness!”
“We must have vengeance!” shouted a white. “He’s the one responsible! He must die!”
“Death to Ao Shun!” several began chanting.
She grew desperate. They could wreck their vengeance on the Sluagh Sidhe if this could be stopped, but should dragon slay dragon, the madness would never end, and they would descend into the same evil entwining Finaarva and his changelings.
“No!” she screamed again, beating her wings and creating a gale that pushed back against the seething throng. “It is Finaarva who must die! It is the Sluagh Sidhe whose blood must spill!” Sense returned to her brothers’ eyes. They stopped pressing and the crowd around them was forced to pause as well.
She wasted no time. “Ao Shun is the one who leads us. Without him, we would have fallen to the sin of the Great Ones.” No dragon pressed now. “It was Finaarva who seduced the Great Ones, whose lies twisted their thoughts. It was those who served him who spilled dragon blood. It was they who took the hearts of our families to gorge upon. Death there must be, but let it be death of the Sluagh Sidhe!”
There was utter silence save for the echo of her words. Then Wu Fei shouted out, “Death to Finaarva!” Quickly, the chant was taken up and she sighed, relieved but shaken. Trembling, she glanced over her shoulder at Ao Shun, sensing his eyes upon her. His gaze was stern, but not angry. He studied her, measured her. As their eyes met, he nodded slightly, then turned to face the throng.
“Dragons! Dragons!” he shouted, loudly and forcefully. He called twice more before their chant died away. Once he had their attention, he spoke again, his voice full of absolute authority.
“Retribution we will have. The sin of the Great Ones was terrible, but the murder of dragons and the desecration of their bodies is an evil beyond forgiveness.” The dragons roared deafeningly.
When they had quieted, Ao Shun paced, his long tail swishing across the stone floor and his eyes gleaming. “Four months ago, all of you chose to return to your true path of destiny and travel the stars. All of you were chosen for this morning’s battle because you have ascended, which is the first step of the Enlightened Paths. You are free of the chains the Great Ones placed on you.”
She could not roar with the rest of the dragons, not with the bodies of her parents lying so close, but pride at his words still swelled within her.
“All these months I have studied each of you, contemplating, seeking one of your own to lead you, the colors.” He paused briefly, then resumed his pacing.
“Today, some of you hesitated.”
He did not look at Wu Tian, but her brother was near enough she could feel his heat of embarrassment.
“Today, many of you followed.” He swept one wing expansively, taking in all within the Cavern. Then he halted his pacing directly in front of her, and their eyes locked.
“Today, one of you led,” he said softly, but she was certain his whisper carried. He returned his gaze to the multitude. “We have all seen who destiny has touched. Wu Zhao, come forth and become the First Ascendant of the Colors.”
The shock on her brothers’ faces was nothing compared to what she felt in her heart. Joy and honor washed over her, quickly overshadowed by the sudden trepidation she had not heard correctly, that she was the wrong choice entirely. Nevertheless, the colors roared their approval. Wu Fei slapped her back, heartily congratulating his sister, while her older brother simply nodded, a weak smile on his face.
Then Ao Shun wrapped a wing about her and whispered, “You will be my protégé, Wu Zhao. Do not think my choice is random. This is your fate, your next step on the Enlightened Paths.”
“Thank you,” she whispered back, uncertain of what else to say. She glanced at the throng of dragons pressing towards her, their eyes full of expectation, and found her mind blank.
“I think they expect you to address them,” Ao Shun murmured.
Fear gripped her. She was no good speaking to so many. The older dragon must have sensed this, for he added, “Maybe if you suggest we go after Finaarva…”
His words strengthened her resolve. She breathed in deeply, then spoke as loudly as her nerves would allow, “Let us go destroy those who did this.” She swept her wings out towards the bodies. The cavern reverberated with the approval of the colors. Emboldened, she shouted, “Death to Finaarva! Vengeance will be ours!”
Shouts of “Death to Finaarva!” and roars of acclamation filled the cavern.
“Let us end this, then,” Ao Shun said privately to her. “Lead the way out, First Ascendant of the Colors.”
Chapter 10
The Dragon
“D
rive them back!” Wu Zhao shouted to her hong. “Drive them to the river!”
The dragons swooped low, fireballs blasting towards the Sluagh Sidhe lines. The faeries staggered, another futile attempt to not break, but a pair of warriors at the edge of their magic shield cartwheeled backwards several yards and did not rise, their glassy green armor now black. By the time she and her hong had circled back for another attack, the Daoine Sidhe had charged, their superior numbers too great for the remaining enemy forces. Most of the Sluagh Sidhe who had not yet fled to the Cathaoir River that marked the border of Finaarva’s glen were quickly overwhelmed, either captured or killed before they could slip through their king’s dome of magic at the river’s far edge and into the safety of Bruagh-na-Boyne.
The dragons had decimated Finaarva’s vast goblin army, while the ogres and giants had abandoned the war as soon as the tide had turned. When Wu Zhao plunged for a final pass at the front of her hong, she could glimpse only the handful of changelings still guarding the near side of the river. Their dark armor fluctuated in harmony with their surroundings, as fluid as water. At times, their arrogant faces were all that could be seen. The faeries aimed their black staves towards the dragons, magic crackling like purple lightning at the tips, as the dragons readied for the next attack.
Racing at the line of changelings, her gullet flared as a fireball raced up her throat. She aimed it at the center of the line, firing, then she quickly arced up and over as the rest of her hong followed, blasting flashes of fire like a meteor shower.
The changelings were too quick, however, their magic erupting in another purple shield of sizzling light that popped and buzzed as it instantly spread wide enough to protect not only the changelings, but the fleeing warriors behind them. The fireballs struck, boiling and blistering on the shield, and the changeling line staggered, but held.
On the far side of the Cathaoir River, near a wide inlet, the last of the Sluagh Sidhe swam across. A faint white light sparked as each crossed a point near the edge of Bruagh-na-Boyne.
“Arc Three!” she cried, and her hong’s V formation instantly obeyed, splitting apart into three groups, each angling in a different direction, their gullets glowing as they readied fireballs. In the month sin
ce being handed command of the colored dragons, she had learned how deadly the changelings were. Ao Shun had told her the shape shifters were rare among faeries, which was fortunate because their magic was potent. Always, they were the last to retreat, the only faeries who dared to stand against the might of the dragons.
Missiles of magic exploded in front of her, blossoming into glittering, deadly flowers of purple, red, and green. She veered to avoid the bolt’s fiery debris, colliding into Wu Fei. Her younger brother somersaulted, scattering the hong. They both righted quickly, but that was enough for the changelings to escape once more.
“Sorry, sister,” Wu Fei said with a chagrined smirk, although both of his whiskers twirled mischievously.
She shook her head as she swallowed her flame. “We wouldn’t have done anything more than scorch Finaarva’s dome.”
He nodded as her hong regrouped, circling above the river and the inlet below as they studied Finaarva’s magic. In the morning light, the dome that protected his glen barely twinkled, a faint hint of pink crystal above the trees. Like Oberon, the king of the Sluagh Sidhe had created a magic powerful enough to prevent even dragons from entering his glen.
“Have we won?” asked another dragon. She glanced down. There was no sign of any Sluagh Sidhe walking freely on either side of the Cathaoir River. Those who had not escaped to the safety of Bruagh-na-Boyne had been captured or slain.
“We will not have triumphed so long as the murderers of our kin remain alive.” Her words hissed like grease dripping on flames.
“Wu Zhao is right,” her brother responded as the hong continued to circle above the inlet. “They might be trapped, but we cannot reach them.”
The other dragons roared, their rage echoing hers. She knew they should regroup with Ao Shun, that the might of the dragons was not enough to overcome Finaarva’s dome without Oberon’s magic. Resentment burned inside her almost as strongly as a growing fireball. The changelings had slaughtered her parents and the other matures, and the revenge of the colors was already growing into legend. She doubted Finaarva had expected such ferocity.
Blood of the Dragon Page 10
