by Mandy Rosko
A black cloud of ants scattered as the head lolled, revealing another long gash just under the jaw. It had damn near been beheaded. She could see inside the neck, the white of bone and thick mucus where the blood had clotted. Suddenly, the scent of its blood no longer called to her. There was no way she would ever have degraded herself by sucking on a snake, but everything about this creature’s death brought a whole new level of disgusting to the table that could almost make her go on a blood diet. Almost.
But then she saw the small, glittering something that stuck out from the edge of the wound.
“What’s that?”
“I see it.” Aaron reached out, grabbed it, and pulled, revealing a long sword. It had been caught, and the golden hilt had been pressed so deep into the rotting, bug-crawling flesh that it had nearly disappeared inside of it.
Ugh. “That’s so gross.”
Aaron hardly seemed to mind the insects and slime as he held the blade, turning it about and examining it. It was decorated and jeweled. Definitely the weapon of royalty.
“Is that your father’s?” she asked.
“Aye.” Aaron bent down and wiped the blood and gore into the grass. “I can no longer assume the bite marks were put there by a scavenger.”
“From your father’s rescuer, the dragon,” Kehn confirmed. “He was in beast form when he attacked.”
“Wait.” Dawn looked at one of the chunks of flesh missing from the giant serpent. It was the size of a beach ball. “A dragon made those?”
Aaron nodded and stared down at the creature. “They were both lucky to have faced such an old creature. Its slow attacks and bad eyesight were what saved their lives.”
“Seriously?” Dawn asked, surveying the carnage. The snake’s blood was everywhere, and trees that she’d assumed had fallen with age and weather, she now knew had come down when the monster crashed into them. “I guess you don’t think the dragons killed him anymore, right? Your father, I mean,” she asked.
Aaron narrowed his eyes. “He was rescued by a dragon, but they are keeping him for reasons unknown to us. For that, we are to continue with caution.”
“Very wise, Highness,” Kehn said.
“Great,” Dawn said. “So how do we let the others know we found the snake?”
The three elves stared at her, confused, like they didn’t understand her question.
“The other search parties,” she clarified, “the other people who were sent out to find your king.”
“There is no one else,” Aaron said.
“What?” Dawn staggered. “How can there be no one else? Why isn’t your whole kingdom out here looking for him? He’s your king.”
“Because the whole kingdom is searching the palace and cities to be certain he isn’t hidden within the walls or streets, dead from a vampire attack,” Kehn said.
“You—”
“Princess,” Aaron interrupted, halting the string of insults she had ready, “as mentioned before, the language of the trees is not exact. We were the only group given leave to search the forest, and only because I requested it.”
Which meant that Blake and Nox owed Aaron their lives a lot more than Dawn originally thought. If what he said was true, then pretty much everyone in the Blue City thought their king was already dead. Hell, they were probably having a funeral for him right now, and this whole search thing was just designed to keep the vampire princess from sullying it.
“But this proves…Bell was correct with her translations. He’s probably alive and in the mountain somewhere.”
“A courier will be sent to inform Prince Aelson,” said Bell, her tone softer now that Dawn had given the elf woman her dues. “But we will still be required to act on our own.”
“All right, why?” Dawn asked.
“Would ye find traveling onto neighboring land with an army behind ye wise?” Aaron asked.
He had her there. “No.”
The flap of bird wings homing in on them did not startle her. She heard it before they did. She did jump when the bird, the owl from before, appeared in front of her face, frantically flapping its long wings in irritation.
She thought the owl meant to perch, so she raised her arm.
Hooting indignantly, the bird dropped what it had been struggling to carry. Something she hadn’t noticed until its claws released and the fury thing fell.
Dawn’s quick hands reached out and snatched it before it could touch the bloody ground.
A rabbit. A dead one. Warm from the fresh kill, the blood inside had yet to go cold. Its scent teased the neurons in the back of her nose deliciously.
She shot her eyes to Aaron. He looked away from her. “Bell, tie a message to our friend’s leg. He will be our courier. Now we move on.”
Chapter Six
There was no other activity during the night that required Dawn’s special awareness of the dark. Despite Kehn’s claim that he could go for days without sleeping, they made camp in the trees, picking thick branches to sleep on.
Dawn had never been more uncomfortable. The rough tree bark couldn’t be softened even when she made a pillow out of her jacket, and resting by moonlight was new to her. But she needed to do it if she wanted her body to be full of energy for their hike into Blue Mountain. She was exhausted and wide awake at the same time, her eyes occasionally darting to Aaron, who slept in the branch next to hers, looking as comfortable as though he’d done it a thousand times before.
He barely took any clothes off while he slept. In fact, when he did remove a layer, there was another beneath, more of that golden-colored cloth. He had a thin sheet of it that he folded over the branch he used. It was ridiculous. It made him look like an exotic statue, laying there in all that gold. It was weird how she wanted to take it all off him.
Eventually, after about forty-five minutes of sleep and a neck so stiff she could’ve had rigor mortis, they woke for their day, and Dawn had to put on her leathers and helmet again before the sun could come awake, too.
The elves breakfasted on berries Bell had gathered, and Aaron called another of his owl friends to retrieve another rabbit for Dawn to feed on. She would never admit it, but she really could get used to someone doing her hunting for her.
“We will not be traveling through Titanboa territory,” Aaron announced, “but more could have left the safety of their nests. We will proceed with caution.”
“Agreed,” Dawn said. She never wanted to see a live one of those things. Period. Kehn could give her dirty looks for being a coward all he wanted. She didn’t care.
It hadn’t mattered. Despite their efforts to move quickly and quietly, they were attacked an hour later.
Dawn hadn’t heard it coming. The stupid helmet over her ears was barely a hindrance, but the creature was deathly silent in its approach, and it pounced like a whip from between a pair of thick shrubs, an emerald and lime diamond pattern along its body. It snapped at the person closest to it. Aaron.
The fangs of the serpent had only caught his robes, shredding long pieces away from both layers he wore and exposing his perfect torso. The three elves flew back, landing on their feet like cats, their weapons out in a flash.
Dawn turned her attention to the monster. It slithered closer in a fluid motion, forked tongue flicking from a narrow mouth, and lifted itself until it stood eight feet high, and that wasn’t counting the rest of its body.
It surveyed them with gold slits for eyes. This one was not quite as long or as thick as the dead one before it, but it made up for that with the advantage of speed and surprise.
Dawn put her daggers in her hands, loosened her body, and bent her knees, ready to spring if it decided any one of them looked like they’d be worth swallowing whole. It hissed at them, mouth wide and fangs down and dripping. She wasn’t taking a chance. Dawn launched her daggers, aiming for its eyes.
One hit its mark, and the other missed. The giant serpent shrieked and twisted. Aaron had the same idea as she did, and he put his whole body into the throw of his weapo
n as though he were firing a missile. His dagger, while strongly shot, missed its target as the snake thrashed and twisted, attempting to dislodge Dawn’s blade from its bleeding eye.
Dawn put two more long daggers into her hands, but its tossing movements were so wild she didn’t dare attempt to get close. It thrashed until the whole of its body crashed into a pine tree, snapping it at its base. The snake still did not stop.
“Now what?” Dawn demanded.
“Retreat.” Kehn came between her and Aaron, took her by the shoulder, and reluctantly grabbed Aaron’s wrist, as though he meant to pull them back. “There is naught we can do for it.”
“For it?”
The serpent released another keening wail and whipped its tail, nearly hitting Bell, who’d jumped into its range.
“Bell!” Kehn released Dawn and Aaron and ran to her.
But she seemed to have everything well in hand. Bell pulled an arrow from the leather quiver on her back, strung it, and fired. Her arrow sunk into the other eye, blinding the creature for good. It ceased to thrash and went down with a crash that rocked the trees and made the moss at her boots vibrate. The birds twittered indignantly as they fled their nest.
Confidence filled Dawn’s chest. They’d defeated it. They’d won. It was almost too easy.
Then Dawn sensed its heartbeat. It didn’t slow or become weak like that of a dying creature. All they’d done was blind it. Bell continued to advance upon it, a new arrow pulling against the string of her bow.
Despite its blindness, the serpent flicked its tongue and sensed that she was coming. It lifted its head and opened its mouth in another hate-filled hiss. Bell let her arrow fly. The snake dodged what would have been a killing strike to the skull and snapped at her.
Kehn pushed her out of the way and deflected the poisonous fangs with his sword. While he was spared from what would have been a devastating bite, the strength of the snake’s lunge threw him back into another tree, his head conking into the hard wood before his body spilled to the ground.
“Kehn!” Bell was at his side in an instant. He didn’t move.
Aaron threw down his gloves and lifted the sleeves of his tunic. He ran at the serpent as it slithered toward his friends.
Was he out of his mind? “Aaron!” Dawn ran after him.
The snake stilled at her scream, turned away from Bell and Kehn, and focused its attention on her. She stopped dead, gripping her daggers in stone knuckles. Its jaws opened, and fangs unfolded to their full size. It was like she’d brought butter knives to a giant snake fight.
It struck.
Aaron reached her as the snake flew out. He stepped in front of her and threw out his bare hands as the points of the fangs came down on his skin, piercing his flesh, but the serpent stilled as though it had bit down on a piece of solid stone.
“Aaron?” She reached for him. He still had a snake’s fang in his arm. It had punctured clean through.
“Do not touch me!” Aaron jerked away from her as much as he could, but with the fang in his arm, and the snake as frozen as it was, they seemed to be equally trapping each other. Dawn pulled back just before her fingers could touch his shoulder.
There was a flicker of light, so bright Dawn thought a ray of sunshine had made it through the heavy canopy above, but then she turned and gasped. The snake, Titanboa, had turned into a gleaming statue. No, not just gleaming, and she had to take off her helmet just to see it with her own eyes, risk of sun exposure be damned.
Her light-sensitive eyes were momentarily blinded, and her cheeks burned, but she needed to see. Solid gold. The snake was now probably worth about a half a mill in solid gold. “My God.”
“Highness!” Bell abandoned her charge and ran to him.
Aaron hissed. The golden fang that hit the mark had pierced all the way through, but it had missed the bone.
Dawn reached for him again but pulled back at his glare. Even as Bell arrived at his side, she did not put her hands on him, and she could only stare helplessly at the ugly wound.
This was why nobody touched him. This was why the elves were so rich. Everything Aaron touched turned to gold.
“I won’t touch you. But there has to be…Is there anything we can do?” Dawn asked.
“Aye,” he said through a pained hiss. “Go see to Kehn, make certain his wounds are not too severe, and then find me some herbs in the trees. I’ll need them.”
Bell ran immediately to do as he bid her, disappearing into the tree line instead of checking on Kehn, silent and sleek as a deer. Dawn could hardly move.
Aaron braced his feet for a stronger purchase, gripped his arm with his other hand, and pulled down. His teeth clenched all the while, and Dawn’s inside tightened with sympathy at the sight. His blood ran and dripped down the end of the long fang, stretching his skin as he came to the very tip, tugging until he was free. He stumbled but fell away from Dawn, landing on his knees, clutching his arm and gasping heavily. His flesh never touched her, never touched anything he didn’t want to touch.
The scent of his blood filled her nose. Not all that different from human blood. “There was poison on those fangs,” she said. “What do we do about that?” It wasn’t like she could suck it out for him, when touching him would turn her into a golden statue just as dead as the boa still poised above them.
Aaron pulled himself up and, sweat pouring from his face, moved for the spot just across from Kehn. He leaned against a thick birch and sank down to sit. He didn’t look so good.
She went with him, knelt as close to him as she could get without his either touching her inadvertently or glaring at her for getting too close. She set the helmet down in the fallen leaves, relying on the tree to shade her. “You need to suck out the poison.”
“It shan’t be you.”
Dawn turned. She looked up into the business end of the sword that was being pointed at the sensitive area of her throat. Kehn had awoken, it seemed.
She went for the calm approach. “I didn’t say I was going to do it.”
“Kehn—”
“I heard ye express a wish to put yer mouth on my prince’s bleeding wound. Ye’ll not touch him.”
She clenched her teeth together. “Do you think I want to be a statue?”
“Leave her be, Kehn,” Aaron commanded, his voice strong despite the wound. There was enough warning there for Kehn to remove the sword, reluctantly, from under Dawn’s chin.
He glared at her as he did it, though. She sneered back at him.
“My wife is only concerned for me.” His eyes found hers. “Help me.” He tugged at his outer layers, revealing the golden-colored cloth beneath. Kehn inched away from him as Aaron began to undress.
Dawn’s eyes stayed on Aaron’s clothes. Not gold colored, like she’d always thought, but made of real gold from having ever touched his skin, like the snake.
After a pause at the sight, she did as he commanded and inched closer, wondering whether she should feel smug, grateful, or nervous. This would be the first time Aaron had allowed her near him, not including those precious seconds in her room, when he’d forgotten himself. This was proof that Aaron trusted her to be close even in this weakened state.
She knelt with him, judged what little he still wore to be enough protection, and took his hand into hers. He’d put his gloves back on, but his arm and shoulder, the entire one side of chest, were now completely bare. He’d removed his cloak, but kept the golden tunic half on to protect the tree behind him. She tried not to stare at that particular part of him while his color became waxen.
“Strip this,” he commanded, motioning with his head to his discarded cloak.
Dawn did as she was told. She used her dagger to make long strips out of it.
“Put it in my hand,” he said when she finished, holding out his gloved hand. She did.
Bell soundlessly approached from behind and placed a small pile of leaves on the moss next to him. They were a pale, lime color that made it easy to see the darker veins within. Th
e strangest thing about them was the multiple growths of red beads. Dawn had no idea what tree they could have come from.
“I think you should suck out the poison first,” she said as he began to wrap his arm.
He reached for one of the leaves, then pinched one of the red dots between his thumb and forefinger, allowing the juice to leak into his wound. “No poison went into my body. The serpent transformed too quickly.”
Oh, well, in that case.
He bandaged the wound, quickly, as the cloth turned golden almost faster than it soaked his blood, the same golden hue as his gloves. Aaron worked quickly to tie it off.
Dawn could not remove her eyes.
“What’s wrong with you?”
His eyes danced behind her, and he jerked his head slightly, a command for Bell and Kehn to wander away somewhere.
Though Kehn made grumbling noises, the only way he could voice his displeasure at being forced to get up after being knocked out, their footsteps were soundless. She couldn’t tell if they’d left or not, but trusted that when Aaron spoke, they were out of elven hearing range.
“The reason why I am an eldest son but am not an heir, the very reason why I was offered to a vampire bride, is because I am cursed. Most everything I touch turns into gold.”
“I noticed, though, most people where I come from wouldn’t consider that a curse,” she said, a light smile on her lips.
He didn’t return it. He clenched his fingers, touched his golden bandage, and looked for all the world like he hated everything in it. “I cannot control it,” he said. “Do you recall when I said I crept into a dragon’s lair?”
She nodded, then froze up. “You’re saying a dragon did this to you?”
His jaw tightened. “I was young then, with a foolish inclination that invincibility and immortality are one and the same. That dragon caught me as my hand reached out to take one of its gems. He accused me of greed and cursed me to touch nothing but gold. Ever since then, I haven’t.”
His eyes locked onto hers, and they were both silent.
It was like he was waiting for something. Maybe for her to lunge away from him, fearful that he would reach out and turn her into a golden statue like the giant snake behind them.
