by Ann Gimpel
“Did you ever reach within the dragons to do away with the larvae siphoning their power?” Katya asked.
Nikolai shook his head. “As you discovered, each dragon contained many larvae. We weren’t certain of the exact number. Nor were we clear what would happen if we bombarded our friends with lethal power.”
Katya looked away. They should have at least tried. Six dragons lay encased in sorcery-laden ice. They could have experimented on one of them… A thin tongue of guilt stabbed her. She’d always been too judgmental for her own good. If it had been her friends in the ice, could she have chosen a sacrificial sheep?
Probably not.
Easy to cast blame. Harder to put herself in someone else’s position.
“I can answer the how-many question,” Johan said. “Twenty-four cells per dragon. Those serpents are organized fuckers. Although at the time, I had no idea the cells I was destroying were embedded in dragon bodies.” He angled a look Kayta’s way. “Did you?”
She nodded. “Not until my dragon pointed it out, though.” She carefully avoided questioning why Johan’s dragon didn’t figure things out. Or maybe he had but was so intent on being a rebel, the significance of frozen dragons buried in layers of magic didn’t compute.
“That dragon needs a stern talking to,” her bondmate muttered. Ashy smoke puffed from Katya’s mouth.
“Later.” Katya put steel behind her command. “We have more important things to attend to.”
Her twin’s form took on a liquid aspect, and she understood he was shifting. She intuited what he wanted to try and opened the channels within herself to shift back to her dragon form. She’d be tired when this endless day drew to a close, weary to her bones, but it couldn’t be helped.
More dragons rose into the silver sky streaked with teal and violet. For the first time, she noticed an oblong sun hanging low on a distant horizon. Nikolai was golden like her, except his scales shaded more copper in spots. Erin’s red was airborne.
“What are we doing?” Johan asked, followed by, “Do you need me?”
“Kon is going to attempt to revive the dragons. Absent the parasites that were sucking the very spirit from them, we may meet with success.”
“Is that even possible?” Johan’s question brimmed with hope and excitement. Her annoyance at his dragon fell away.
“He saved you, didn’t he? To answer your other question. You needn’t shift. Regain your strength so you can help with the spell breaking once we’ve moved the dragons away from the ice.”
“I hope I didn’t hurt them. I wasn’t being careful.”
“Neither was I.” Katya clamped her jaws tightly together. It was tempting to blame her dragon for not telling her they were blasting destruction into other dragons until the deeds were done, but they were in uncharted territory. Dragons were ancient beings with extensive memories. Perhaps her bondmate had taken a while to understand what the embryos were embedded in.
That it hadn’t reacted with horror spoke well for it. Her dragon could just as easily have turned into a rage-ridden beast ripping up the skies with fire.
None of this was anyone’s fault, and she focused all her energy on helping her twin. If they could only rescue one dragon, it would be a victory. Better to keep her goals modest to avoid soul-crushing disappointment. Fire shot from dragon jaws as everyone worked together to finish cutting the dragons’ bodies from their icy crypts.
The remaining ice broke up far more easily than she would have expected, but they shot the equivalent of a hundred blowtorches at its uneven surface. Plus, the top layer had already been shattered when they killed the hatchlings. Eight dragons, including her and Konstantin, worked fast. Soon, the half dozen buried dragons lay atop the ice. Their wounds from removing the hatchings smote her. Blood welled, staining the snow-streaked ground.
Her twin swooped low enough to grab a red dragon with his powerful hind legs. He carried it to a spot near where Nikolai and his flight had emerged from the cliffs. Katya’s jaws parted in approval. The flight probably had a dwelling carved out of the inside of the crags. Dragon magic would be strong there, and it was just the thing to coax their kin back from whatever dark places they wandered.
She snatched up a dragon—careful not to make its injuries any worse—and flew after her brother. After placing the comatose wyrm gently next to the red, she summoned her next shift. Shapeshifters were never meant to execute so many transformations in a short time. She was panting and wheezing by the time she was human again.
All six dragons lay next to the bottom of the cliff. Ice was chipping off the rocks and clattering onto scales. Between killing the hatchlings and freeing the dragons, she assumed the last of the sea-serpent sorcery had departed. At least this borderworld would thaw out.
Konstantin, Erin, Nikolai, and the rest of his flight formed a half circle around the fallen dragons. Everyone else had reclaimed their human body. Nikolai speared Konstantin with a gaze like burning coals, if coals were ever golden. He bowed his head slightly. “Guide us, my liege. We cannot afford to make a mistake.”
“Your confidence in me is appreciated.” Konstantin’s words held a formal note. “Much of magic is intuitive. You knew these dragons far better than I do, so you must take the lead. You will recognize their energy and can fine-tune your magic to encourage it to return.”
“Once we settle on a spell,” the silver-haired woman said, “we will each focus it on the dragon we knew best.” A tear formed in one eye and clattered to the ground as a shiny, violet gemstone. “I will do my best to coax Loran back.”
Sadness slammed into Katya. “By the goddess. He was your mate.”
The woman nodded, tears still welling from her eyes. “I am Auta. Loran will always be my mate.”
“We will mix the drawing spell with a cleansing incantation,” Konstantin said. “Before you begin, though, you must be aware it is possible the serpents poisoned these dragons beyond redemption.” He blew out a strained breath. “They did not fight back. It means they were either snared so deeply, they knew nothing, or that they became willing participants.”
A chorus of hisses and snarls rose, punctuated by fire, ash, and smoke. “Not possible” was overlaid with “You’re mistaken.”
Kon held his hands up, palms outward. “You may not fancy my message, but you must attend to it. If at any time, you—or your dragon—senses the shifter you are working on has been corrupted, call me.”
“What will you do?” Auta asked.
“Call on Y Ddraigh Goch to destroy them.” Pain streamed from her twin in gray sheets. She wanted to ease his torment but couldn’t offer anything. Except maybe killing them herself, and she wasn’t at all certain she knew how to accomplish that. The six shifters were deep in stasis, but dragons were still immortal. She had no idea how to smash their comas and edge them into permanent nothingness.
“We cannot leave them like this,” Konstantin went on. “Surely, you understand why we must act. The serpents will realize their pets have been destroyed. They’ll return and start the same process all over again so long as their breeding vessels are intact.”
“We understand,” issued from many mouths. It sounded like a dirge and broke Katya’s heart.
Johan edged next to her, not touching but offering silent support. The shifters formed small groups around each fallen dragon. Auta was by herself next to her mate. The other five dragons had two shifters crouching next to them. Kon placed himself a little bit apart and gestured to her, Erin, and Johan to join him.
The characteristic smells of dragon castings—sunbaked clay and herbs—wafted through the air, growing thicker by the moment. Katya wanted to ask her brother what their odds were, but someone might hear his answer and lose heart. She didn’t see how this could meet with success. The dragons had been checked out for too long… Understanding washed through her. Konstantin didn’t believe this would work any more than she did, but it was kinder than simply calling in Y Ddraigh Goch and having him do away with the fa
llen dragons.
“Do not give up hope.” Her dragon’s voice was stern. “It is all that remains. Once it departs, we shall have no chance at all.”
She extended her hands to the sides, clasping her brother’s and Johan’s. Erin grasped Kon’s hand. When they were joined, she sent positive energy spiraling outward, hoping to augment and strengthen the dragon shifters’ efforts as they fought to call the others back from dark corridors.
Strong magic flickered at the edges of her vision. She blinked to bring it into focus and wasn’t surprised when the dragon god formed out of motes of brilliance. He rarely came when summoned, but Kon’s message must have broken through. Nothing like six dragons trapped in the maw of wickedness to attract Y Ddraigh Goch. Particularly when these dragons had been snatched by sea-serpents. Beings banished by the dragon god for treachery.
Hope jabbed her below her breastbone. If anyone could salvage these dragons, it would be the dragon god. She cautioned herself to temper her expectations. He was fully justified to be furious his children had allowed themselves to be trapped in the first place. Y Ddraigh Goch was capable of compassion, but he also had high expectations of his dragons.
He would expect better of them than to be snared in serpent chicanery.
A golden dragon with two shifters chanting over it stirred, bugling weakly. “That’s it, Leona,” one urged.
“Return to us,” a russet-haired man leaning over the fallen dragon commanded.
Katya took a step closer. Konstantin closed a hand around her arm, warning her not to get in the way. “But she’s waking up,” Katya protested.
Kon shook his head and angled his chin at the dragon god who’d trudged to Leona’s thrashing form. He laid a taloned foreleg on her head, chanting low. Power flared blue-white around all the dragons in that group.
Y Ddraigh Goch lifted his foreleg. Angling a talon, he drew it down Leona’s scaled forehead, leaving a shiny, scarlet track. “Fly,” he shouted.
Leona shook herself, spread her wings, and made her wobbly way into the air. Her flight path stabilized after a short time, and she bugled. Joy, delight, and thanks rang through her trumpeting.
Katya was grinning like a fool, but she couldn’t rein in her happiness. Somewhere a million years ago, she’d told herself if they could save one dragon, it would be a victory.
One dragon had been saved.
Over the next half hour, four more took to the skies. Sven, a blue-gold combo, took longer than the others to get his aerial balance back, but after a couple of false starts, he winged his way through skies that were growing dark with the other newly-resurrected dragons amid a riot of bugles, trumpets, steam, and smoke.
Even the dour dragon god looked pleased with himself.
Only Loran remained with Auta keening over him. “Help me.” She angled a glance at Konstantin and the dragon god. “Please. I feel Loran. He’s close, but then he slips away.”
Y Ddraigh Goch focused his spinning eyes on Auta. “Move over, Daughter. I will see what I can do.”
“Do I have to let go of him?” she cried. “I just got him back. He is my mate, and—”
“Do you wish my help or no?” the god thundered.
Auta looked away and moved back from her mate. A steady stream of tears formed precious gems as they fell around her.
Konstantin must have sensed something because he flanked the god, hands raised and power arcing between them.
Y Ddraigh Goch raised his forelegs. A multihued shroud formed around Loran. It pulsed and vibrated as if something wanted out, but Katya couldn’t see through its opaque surface. At least whatever lay within was moving.
The other dragon shifters had moved before they reanimated. Surely, it was a good sign.
A quick look at Y Ddraigh Goch disabused her of that notion. The god’s visage had darkened into a thundercloud. He was chanting faster, and magic whirled around Loran in a black vortex.
Her brother might be a black dragon, but it wasn’t ever one of the power colors used by dragon shifters.
The next part happened so fast, she didn’t trust the sequence of events. A foreleg punched through the shroud, followed by a sharp wingtip. Loran bellowed. Y Ddraigh Goch bellowed back.
The shrouding sheeted away, followed by the vortex spinning itself out. Auta shrieked, “My love. You’re whole again.” She started to race toward her mate, but Y Ddraigh Goch held her in place with magic.
“He is corrupt. You must not go to him.”
She twisted and barred her teeth at the god. “Everyone else was fine. My mate is too. You are mistaken.”
Katya swallowed shock at her impertinence. Auta might be distraught, but it didn’t excuse her insolence.
“I will release my hold on you,” the god went on. “If you go to Loran, you will be lost along with him.”
“What will you do?” Maybe his words had penetrated. At least Auta had stopped snarling long enough to ask a question.
“What must be done. He has been corrupted by the serpents. I cannot allow him to live.” The god’s words were implacable, yet not unkind. A magical being taking on a distasteful task out of necessity.
“Nooooo!” Auta wailed, a long keening tone, and lurched toward where Loran stood, fire streaming from his open jaws.
Magic flared around Auta, gold, silver, and russet. Her dragon rose from her body. Wings spread, it hovered off to one side. Katya bit back alarm. The god had broken the bond. Could this get any worse? Would he punish the dragon as well?
“Fly free, Daughter,” he told the beast. Return to your world and heal.”
“Thank you for sparing me,” she bugled in dragonspeak. More power flashed around her, and she vanished.
Auta flung herself against Loran’s scaled chest, sobbing in earnest except her tears no longer formed gemstones. Y Ddraigh Goch barked a word that hurt Katya’s ears. And her heart. And her dragon’s soul.
When she opened eyes she didn’t realize she’d clamped shut, Loran and Auta were gone. Where they’d stood was a blackened splotch standing vigil against the rocky cliffs.
Nikolai fell to his knees in front of the god. “Thank you for purging my flight.”
Y Ddraigh Goch replied, “Thank you for recognizing the necessity of my actions,” just before he vanished in a blaze of blue-white illumination.
Johan wrapped an arm around Katya’s shoulders. Not saying anything, but there for her if she needed him. She reminded herself of the five dragons they’d saved, but it didn’t make up for Loran.
Dragon justice was swift. Cruel. Necessary.
“To me,” Kon bellowed. “Today was an unexpected accomplishment, but we can’t rest on our laurels. We have a war to plan.” He waited while the five who were flying about landed and shifted into their human bodies.
Katya blew out a weary breath. A war. The fucking war. It was why they were here, but she was heartily sick of bloodshed. And the war hadn’t even begun.
“We are DRAGONS!” her bondmate reminded her.
Something inside Katya snapped. She didn’t bother with telepathy. So what if everyone heard and it shamed her dragon? “Stuff it. You abandoned me. For years. Do not tell me what it means to be a dragon. Not until you’ve figured it out for yourself.”
Damn. Damn. Damn.
That was the problem with anger. It felt so good to give in to it. And so crappy afterward. When she sent a tentative tongue of magic inward, seeking her dragon, she wasn’t surprised to find it gone.
“Fine. Be that way,” she shouted after it. The beast probably wouldn’t hear, but this was one instance where Katya wanted the last word.
Chapter 9
I heard Katya talking. At first, I figured her words were aimed at me since I was right next to her, but when I recognized the anguish laced into what came after stuff it, I knew she was upbraiding her dragon. What had passed between them? I started to ask—until I got a look at the closed-off expression on her face.
It was a tender subject, and I’d only fi
nd out if she wanted to confide in me. I’m far from an expert on women, but even I know when not to pick scabs off wounds.
I trotted to the circle of shifters around Konstantin. Katya followed, but not right away. Today’s events had turned out reasonably well, all in all. Despite Loran’s defection—or whatever had happened to him—and Auta’s inability to lead with her head, we’d gained fifteen dragon shifters who should willingly sign on to fight the sea-serpents. They’d be grateful to Konstantin for his intervention, and they should be furious with the serpents for tricking them into giving up their independence and becoming breeding farms for evil.
My assessment was right on the money. Everyone was promising aid. Kon looked pleased, but stern. Would fifteen plus the four of us be enough? Or was our search to build our ranks not done yet? I smothered a wry smile. Erin and I were scarcely substitutes for fully vetted dragon shifters. Between the two of us, we might count for one.
Maybe.
“What happened to the dragon shifters on the dinosaurs’ world?” Katya asked. She wasn’t standing next to me, or anyone else. I tried not to stare at her, but she looked unyielding, reminding me of a latter-day Joan of Arc. Determined to power through, no matter what it cost her on a personal level.
What the hell had happened between her and her dragon? I’d just made peace with mine—at least I hoped I had. Maybe it was more temporary than I imagined it to be.
“We moved here,” Nikolai answered her question.
“A very long time ago,” a silver-haired woman added.
“Are there other dragons in the Fleisher system?” Konstantin asked.
Several shifters nodded. “We split up when we left the first world,” Nikolai clarified. “Most of us came here, but about ten are on the sixth world. We haven’t heard from them, but we have no reason to assume they aren’t doing fine.”
“Did you try to raise them to help with the six ensorcelled dragons?” Katya asked.
