by Ann Gimpel
Keep up with her at www.anngimpel.com or http://anngimpel.blogspot.com
If you enjoyed what you read, get in line for special offers and pre-release special reads. Newsletter Signup!
Primal Ice, Dragon Time
Konstantin’s dragon here, folks. We’re two-thirds of the way through what is, essentially, my story. Yet none of you know me at all. I’m about to correct that. Not to be outdone, Katya’s dragon wants a voice as well.
“What about us?” Johan and Erin’s dragons bugled from where they’d just broken through into the dragons’ borderworld.
The “us” took on echoes as dragons appeared from every quadrant and moved closer. Worse than a pack of hyenas scenting a feast, everyone wanted a piece of the action, but it was impossible.
For a whole lot of very good reasons.
“Are any of you part of the serpent battle?” I demanded, blowing fire. I swear, these insurrections can spiral out of hand if you don’t get a jump on them right away. Dragons are born warriors, though, so the possibility of battle has more allure than a fresh, bloody carcass.
“We could be part of it.” A beefy dark red male lumbered closer, his golden eyes spinning like pinwheels.
“Seems to me, you’d welcome more help,” a white dragon bugled. White is rare among our kind. This particular female is only the third white dragon I’ve seen during my rather lengthy life.
I stood taller and asked her, “How do you envision that working?”
She shrugged amid the rattling of scales. “We show up and fight.”
If I’d been in Konstantin’s body, I’d have dipped my head into my hands. All we needed were a bunch of mateless dragons steeped in bloodlust. Lacking a human bondmate’s cooler head, they’d become impossible to control in short order.
Katya’s dragon nudged me. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea as all that,” she hissed in shielded mindspeech.
I chose to ignore her. Turns out it was a mistake because she fanned her golden wings and clacked her double rows of teeth together to get everyone’s attention. “The thing about battles,” she said, punctuating her words with ash and smoke, “is there are always leaders. When Y Ddraigh Goch gathers his minions for an undertaking, they do as he orders them.”
“Aye, but he’s a god,” a blue dragon pointed out dryly. “The rest of us have equal standing.”
Cries of, “We are dragonkind. We answer to no one,” filled the air.
I wondered if our god, Y Ddraigh Goch, was listening. If not, he ought to be. He’d swoop down and disabuse this crowd of their notions of independence damned fast.
I bumped Katya’s dragon to make certain she heeded my words. “Good place to stop,” I muttered, not bothering with telepathy.
“But I never even got to the part about asking them if they could see their way clear to following you.” She turned her whirling gaze my way but not for long.
Facing the growing crowd of dragons again, she said, “This is precisely why those of you who are not bonded with humans cannot help us fight the serpents. Battles are choreographed, planned ahead of time. Yet they oftentimes slew sideways. Whoever commands the action must make decisions that impact everyone. You would be expected—nay, required—to do precisely as you were ordered.”
Grumbling and fire filled the air, along with more, “We answer to no ones.”
I stared at the assemblage, willing them to disperse. I knew better than to try for an out-and-out command. Me telling them to find something else to do would make things worse. They’d never leave then.
Done glaring at my brethren, I scanned rock-studded sand. Our borderworld is a barren place, marked by a string of active volcanoes. At any given time, one or more are erupting. They keep the place hot and ashy, but it’s our home, and we love it. Several subterranean caverns house underground springs. Water makes it possible for us to raise game animals, but most of us prefer to travel to neighboring worlds where there’s always been exceptional hunting.
Magical creatures enjoy eating, but we can go for long periods without food. Unless we select a human to bond with. Dragon shifters require a lot of calories, so it gives us an excuse to hunt.
Dragon ire was increasing. The smoke eddying about me thickened. I felt like thumping Katya’s dragon soundly. She’d made it appear the topic of the upcoming war was up for discussion. It wasn’t.
“Silence!” I bellowed and followed the single word with judiciously applied shots of magic into the center of the crowd.
Once the dragons had quieted some, I said, “I appreciate your warriors’ hearts, but shy of talking Y Ddraigh Goch into leading a troop of dragons against the serpents, you’d be more trouble than help. Each dragon would have its own plan, and many of them would run counter to the common good.”
“We’d all be there killing serpents,” the red explained. “How could that not shorten the—”
“How would we kill them? They’re immortal. You know, like us,” another dragon, this one green, spoke over him.
Eyes whirled faster. Scales rattled. Bugles and trumpets nearly deafened me. The crux of the problem with the serpent war had hit home. We couldn’t kill them. Worse, a few renegade dragons had jumped ship and now worked alongside the serpents.
It made them ridiculously strong since they could blend serpent power with our own brand of magic. From what we’d seen so far, it also allowed them to hide themselves behind powerful illusion.
“Sorry I got them stirred up,” Katya’s dragon mumbled.
I didn’t answer. Dragons are hot-headed by nature. Nothing I could say would alter that tendency to shoot from the hip and think about it later. As quickly as they’d formed a crowd, the dragons drifted away.
Soon only the four of us remained.
Good.
Perhaps we can get through introductions—which should have happened far earlier in this tale. The only reason I have a spot of time on my hands is because Konstantin is in wait mode. The shifters who volunteered to help with the serpents are maximizing their magic, so when we launch our first strike it gives our enemy something to think about.
I chafed at any delays at all. They offered the serpents time to shore up their own magic, but I could see Kon’s side of things too. If we lost too badly during the initial skirmish, it would be all that much harder to recapture lost ground. Beyond that, none of us has any true idea how many dragons are part of the serpents’ cadre.
Konstantin and I made certain Y Ddraigh Goch knew we harbored turncoats in our midst. While we can’t kill serpents or dragons, our god is capable of doing away with them. If we only had serpents to deal with—and not our own kind—we might have a chance. I’m off on a bit of a tangent here, but if I were running the show, I’d leave the serpents to do whatever with Earth. Once they’d killed off everyone, we could appeal to other gods—the ones who manage all universes—to ensure Earth meets the same fate as Mu.
Blown up, and then sucked into magnetic holes deep in space.
But it’s not my call. Konstantin rarely explains himself to me. He doesn’t have to because I can read his mind. Not that he harbors any fondness for Earth, but Erin, the dragon shifter he’s almost, almost mated to, used to be human. Earth was her home, and she would be sad to leave it.
I believe he’s taking on the serpents to protect Erin’s home, but that might only be part of it. He’s never been one to walk away from a challenge, or to allow evil free rein. It’s one of the reasons I bonded with him before he was born. I saw his strength, his potential. And I knew he would be a solid bondmate for me.
Sometimes, a mateless dragon will ask why I shackled myself to a human. There are downsides, but my human half exerts a modulating effect. My life is far richer for sharing it with Konstantin. I had no idea he would grow to be the dragons’ princeling, but even if that hadn’t happened, I would still be satisfied with my choice.
Those days—when dragons eagerly chose human bondmates—are long behind us. Not many new dragon shifters are born
anymore. I’m not certain why that is, but I bet it has something to do with men no longer believing in magic. Science has displaced it, and not to anyone’s betterment.
When you stop believing in the impossible, your world grows far smaller, duller, less exciting. People’s days are filled with drudgery rather than possibilities. I have no clue why they settle for so little, but that’s another story, and truly a digression. Not at all what I planned for my special time with you, our readers.
“I want to talk about Katya,” her dragon spoke up.
“Yes, and I can tell them about Erin,” the red dragon offered. “Not that I know her well, but they should know why I agreed to bond with her.”
“Same for Johan.” The green dragon bobbed his head.
“Lead out,” I invited. Saving Konstantin for last was a good idea. He was the closest thing dragon shifters had to royalty, mostly because of his link to the land, but more about that neat piece of magic later.
Katya’s golden dragon flared her wings. Tongues of flame shot from her nostrils. “Katya is unique among women,” the dragon began. “Of course, I may be prejudiced because she is mine, but I fell in love with her when she was but a seedling in her mother’s womb. A space she and Konstantin shared, although not without the occasional squabble.
“I used to worry we would never have a mate of our own, but we do now.” Smoke curled from her nostrils and open mouth. “My only two complaints were no mate and our long tenure on Earth. From what I’ve seen, it’s not a good place for dragons or anything magical. Men are steeped in phony science. Phony because they dredge up arguments to line their pockets with worthless money. No one cares about learning anything.
“I left Katya for a while because I couldn’t pry her away from Earth. Luckily, we got past that. She has no idea why I returned. The bare truth is Konstantin’s dragon rounded me up. We exchanged a few harsh words, but he was right that my place was with Katya.”
She turned toward the green dragon, newly bonded to Johan. “Your turn. As our new mate, your tale should dovetail with mine.”
The green dragon stood taller. His gaze slid across our small group. “I never thought to bond with anyone, but one day our god showed up. He didn’t force me by any means. Merely told me he thought I would make a good bondmate for a worthy human.”
The dragon shook his head until his scales rattled. “I tell you, if I’d had any idea how horrible Johan’s first shift would be—how little he knew—I’d not have been so quick to agree. Katya showed up in the nick of time. Without her and her dragon, Johan would have died. And left me feeling like a miserable failure. I admit, I was angry with him even after he finessed that first shift.
“It made no sense, and it was unconscionable of me to blame him for being what he was—human. It took us a while to find common ground after that little incident.” He puffed smoke and ash. “I readily acknowledge I am young for a dragon, but it doesn’t excuse my behavior. After my faux pas with Johan, I made an unforgivable error—defied a direct command from Konstantin—and nearly ended both myself and Johan.”
“Humility is the beginning of wisdom,” I muttered, wincing as I remembered that incident. We’d nearly lost Johan. It had taken all Konstantin’s skill to bring him back.
Johan’s dragon blatted laughter, laced with smoke. “Humility and dragon don’t belong in the same bunch of words.”
I chuckled and then laughed. “Right you are.” I clapped him on the back and looked at the red dragon bonded with Erin.
“One more thing.” Johan’s dragon aimed his next words at Katya’s dragon. “I am very much anticipating our mating flight.”
She puffed steam until it billowed around both her and Johan’s green. He added more to the mix. Before they decided on their own mating flight, absent their human counterparts, I pushed my body between them murmuring, “I’m certain it will happen soon.”
“Not until we have a better handle on the serpent problem,” Katya’s dragon said resolutely.
“That could take a while.” Johan’s dragon sounded resigned, and not especially pleased about his mate’s position.
I understood the unhappy part. While Erin was almost promised to us, she and Konstantin had yet to make love in either form. Until that happened, she could still change her mind. “Your turn,” I nodded toward Erin’s dragon. I longed to tell her how beautiful she was, but perhaps she’d be as skittish as her bondmate.
She tilted her head. “I’m not certain what I can add. Erin had just as hard a time with her first shift as Johan. I feared she wouldn’t survive, yet I wouldn’t have blamed myself.”
“Why not?” I was curious after what Johan’s dragon had disclosed.
“Y Ddraigh Goch was there. I assumed if the human woman died, it was his will.”
I recalled the scene on the borderworld all too well. Konstantin’s desolation and his certainty it would be his fault if Erin perished. Yet she’d figured things out, and I’d been relieved and grateful—two very undragonlike emotions. Kon would have ripped the world apart if Erin died, and I’d have been there every step of the way trying to mitigate his grief and guilt.
Getting back on an even keel would have taken centuries. Our opportunity to take on the serpents would have gone by the wayside.
“Anyway,” the red dragon went on, “I like Erin Ryan. She has pluck, grit, and a spark that shines from within. No one takes advantage of her, not without her dressing them down. She and I are well mated.” Lashes brushed her scaled cheeks. “It is my hope one day you and I will be mates as well,” she told me.
Surprise ratcheted through me. I hadn’t expected her to acknowledge the almost-complete mating ritual. I bowed before her and took care to puff steam. “Such is my hope as well.” I sounded horribly formal, but tucked away where no one could see it, my cock swelled and curved against my scaled belly.
To divert my attention away from jumping skyward and dragging Erin’s dragon with me—a forbidden act since our humans had yet to formalize their troth—I let a purifying blast of fire escape my jaws. Unbonded dragons could have all the sex they wished, but once we joined our lives with a dragon shifter, that aspect of our free will dissolved.
“I would tell you of my bondmate, Konstantin,” I began. “His link to the land is poorly understood, so I will start there. All worlds hold untold power within their core. Many of them began as flaming balls of heat that turned to primal ice as they cooled. Over eons the ice ceded to a rich diversity of living creatures. From time to time, ice returned. It is a world’s way of cleansing itself of taint.”
I blew out more fire. “Konstantin can merge his mind with the land’s deep knowledge. Watching him work his land-linked magic is fascinating—and humbling. He has infinite patience. Many a time, we have sat for months waiting for a stubborn world to notice us. Mu was like that. It did not reveal its secrets easily, nor did it trust Kon’s intent. Probably because he did not truly believe he possessed land-linked power.”
“He doubted himself,” Katya’s dragon concurred. “It was us—me and my bondmate—who convinced him to keep trying.”
I scowled, but she spoke true. Dragons could lie, but it wasn’t easy. “A needed boost,” I murmured. “And one we are forever grateful for.”
“Pfft.” Katya’s dragon puffed smoke and ash and fire. “Dragons are rarely grateful. It’s not part of who we are.”
I kept my mouth shut. It might not be part of who we claimed to be, or the image we projected, but I’d experienced my share of gratitude. Like when Erin hadn’t died on the borderworld where she met her dragon.
“Konstantin should be establishing a link with Earth,” I went on. “By the time we return, it may well be intact. It is one element that could work in our favor—”
“We need you back here now!” Kon’s voice blasted into my mind.
The other dragons’ heads shot up. Clearly, they’d either received a similar summons from their bondmates. Or they’d heard Konstantin.
“Did we accomplish enough?” Katya’s dragon asked me.
“I believe so,” I replied and shaped magic to return us to the grotto deep beneath the ice sheet covering the southern end of Earth. As I worked, I thought about humans. And dragons. We’re good for one another. Dragons encourage their humans to reach for the stars. Humans are good for selecting which stars are most likely to yield fruit.
On that whimsical note, I shall cede my centerstage spot to Konstantin. If I can finagle my way back to talk with you again, I shall. Dragons do like to have the last word. And now, I have battles to plan, enemies to slay, and a world to conquer.
Draping the edges of my spell around the other dragons, I headed all of us toward our bondmates. I can’t speak for my companions, but merging with Konstantin fills me with joy. Every single time. No matter how bad a mood he’s in or how out of sorts. I love him. He is mine, and I am his.
It’s the miracle of the shifter mate bond.
