Rion

by Susan Kearney

“Why would you? You couldn’t have caused permanent damage.”

  “We don’t know that.” Fear drilled her as they ran down the stairs after Lex.

  Lex held open a set of thick wooden doors, and bright lights made her blink several times. With the basement underground, the rebels didn’t have to worry about the Unari spotting the lights. This giant underground cavern must have extended beneath all of Winhaven. Although cribs and playthings lined one wall, most of the room was empty of furnishings, large enough for the young dragons to fly.

  The purple dragon babies were racing along the floor in frantic circles as if intoxicated. Some of them were too tiny to escape their cribs. Others took their first clumsy steps and flapped their wings, while toddlers ran and toppled, hopped and skidded, attempted to fly and failed.

  The oldest dragons had managed flight. Most struggled to stay level, and a few crashed into walls. Others barely avoided colliding into one another. The eldest children flew near the ceiling in uncoordinated circles.

  They were all snorting, shrilling, and flapping so loudly, Marisa could barely hear herself think. Two babies flew into each other and flopped to the ground. Neither appeared hurt, but this was her fault. And she couldn’t calm so many of them in human form. She had to dragonshape.

  Marisa had only to think and her body morphed.

  “Marisa—no!” Rion shouted at her to stop.

  His warning was too late. Her sight sharpened and her mass grew, until her head reached halfway to the ceiling. With babies everywhere, she didn’t dare take a step.

  Thank God, she wasn’t in pain. But she didn’t question her good fortune. Marisa sent out a greeting of happy calm. Hello.

  She received back a cacophony of excited answers, the children’s delighted thoughts flying at her.

  Hi.

  Fun.

  Play.

  Fly.

  Up. Up. Up.

  She’d braced for anger. But oh, my goodness, the babies were… happy.

  The youngsters sent excited and cheerful thoughts at her. Light and jolly. Filled with joyous laughter. And with all that happiness coming at her, she took it in, magnified it, and sent it back out to them. The emotional loop happened automatically, without thought or effort on her part.

  The baby dragons floated and dived, played tag, ran and flapped their wings. A few shoved their snouts into platinum food and hungrily chowed down.

  “This hasn’t happened before?” Rion asked.

  “Sweet Goddess.” Lex grinned. “They are flying, carefree, and curious, the way the Goddess meant for them to be.”

  Darian stared in wonder. “This is the first time most of them have experienced dragonshaping without pain.”

  Two dragons almost crashed in midair. Rion frowned. “Too bad it’s so crowded they are a danger to themselves.”

  Marisa agreed. The babies might have been giddy, but they could still get hurt. Flying into a wall or another dragon could break bones.

  Marisa went to work, toning down the happy excitement and sending calming thoughts to the entire room. Good babies. Nice flying. But you all need to eat. Need to rest. Come on, little dragons, fly down and eat. Rest your wings.

  At first, they refused to listen. But as they slowly tired, they walked, crawled, and flew toward the food that Lex and his people held out to them.

  After the dragons ate, they humanshaped. The caretakers placed the children back into their beds. Even Rion tucked one of the babies in.

  Eventually the nursery settled down. Just in time.

  Pain began to pulse through Marisa. Fiery pain. Nerve-shocking pain that caused her to roar and wake a few of the children.

  She, too, humanshaped. Her throat had swollen shut. Her lungs seized. Breathe, damn it. Don’t pass out in front of everyone.

  Marisa fought down the pain, willed herself to stay on her feet.

  Her knees buckled.

  Rion caught her in his strong arms and gathered her close to his chest. “I’ve got you.”

  “Thanks.” His embrace steadied her. Gave her a moment to regroup.

  He carried her to a sofa and pressed a glass of juice into her hand. “It’s laced with platinum. Drink it.”

  She hesitated. “I don’t want to take someone else’s share.”

  Rion lowered his voice. “Marisa, you need your strength to help us. Now drink.”

  “How did you hold out against the pain?” Lex asked her, his gaze cool and assessing.

  What was he talking about? “I caved—the very second it hit.” So much for courage. All her good intentions had flown out of her mind the moment that pain struck.

  Hands shaking from the residual agony, she sipped. While she could ingest platinum in human form, it wasn’t a real meal, more like a snack. But she was grateful to replenish her energy and take a moment to collect her thoughts, pleased that the clothing had immediately reassembled around her when she’d humanshaped.

  She drank the juice, and when she looked up, she was shocked to see Lex and his people surrounding her, odd expressions she couldn’t read on their faces.

  “The babies are okay? They’re happy…” Her gaze flicked to Rion.

  He didn’t seem to be listening. His eyes were hard, his face grim. “I told you not to dragonshape.”

  “You brought me here to use my skills. With so many babies flying at once, it was dangerous. I had to end the chaos.”

  “But you resisted the Tyrannizer,” Lex said.

  “No. I only felt the pain right at the end before I humanshaped.”

  “So what held off the pain?” Lex’s voice softened in wonder. “And what made the babies’ pain disappear? I’ve never seen them happy. Normal. Not in dragon form.”

  “It’s true,” one of the women caretakers added. “They were eating without pain. Flying without pain. How is this possible?”

  Rion, Lex, Darian, Mendle, and the female caretakers turned curious eyes to Marisa. The women were as beautiful as the men, tall and lean, with high, sculpted cheekbones. Even in rags, they looked regal.

  Uncomfortable with the attention, Marisa shrugged. “I don’t know what happened. For me, there was no pain—at least not at first. Later, after I calmed the babies, I felt like I was on fire.”

  “Why didn’t she feel pain from the very first moment she dragonshaped?” Lex asked Rion.

  “Perhaps she was so worried over the children that she didn’t notice the pain until after everyone was safe.” Rion spoke slowly.

  Lex shook his head. “But the children weren’t hurting, either.”

  Rion rubbed his chin. “It’s also possible that since Marisa is capable of group telepathy, her talent shields her from the pain.”

  Marisa shook her head. “I was still using my telepathy to settle the children right up to the time I humanshaped. And I felt the pain.” She shuddered and rubbed her arms. “It was… horrible.”

  Lex’s eyes filled with hope. “If we could figure out how you banished the pain, even for a short time, perhaps others could do it, too.”

  “Do you eat different foods than we do?” a woman asked.

  Rion shook his head. “She’s been sharing meals with me for the last few days.”

  “What about a chemical reaction?” Darian suggested. “Hair dye? Or a soap?”

  She shrugged, hating to disappoint them. She had no trick to offer. “Perhaps my DNA gives me some immunity. I’m from another world. Earth.”

  Her statement drew more stares and silence. She was beginning to feel like a tourist attraction.

  “She’s an offworlder?” One of the women’s voices rose in anger. “And we trusted her with our babies?”

  “She helped them,” Rion said softly.

  “She could betray our entire camp.” The woman’s eyes blazed with hatred. “She could be in league with the Unari.”

  “The Unari are threatening my world, too,” Marisa explained. “I came here to help.”

  “Or betray us,” the woman muttered and walked
away in disgust.

  While no one else said anything, many people now eyed her suspiciously.

  Rion stood and glared down at everyone. “Marisa is a dragonshaper. She’s here to help us and has risked her life to do so. Anyone who speaks against her speaks against me. Am I clear?”

  Some of his people wouldn’t meet his eyes. A few turned and walked away.

  “Easy.” Marisa placed a hand on his arm. “Let them get used to the idea. They’ve been through so much. If I were in their shoes, I’d be wary of strangers, too.”

  Rion swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists. She sensed him fighting an internal battle.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “You promised…”

  “I didn’t promise to ask you to suffer,” he growled.

  She scowled at him, suddenly aware that he was no longer talking about what people thought of her. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want to ask—”

  “Ask what?” She felt as if she were prying a sword from a stone.

  His eyes hardened, even as his lips twisted as if in pain. “If you could dragonshape once more, just for a moment, then tell us if you felt pain, it might help us figure out how to avoid it ourselves.”

  Marisa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Before she let fear stop her, Marisa stood and dragonshaped. Her flesh turned to scales. Her eyesight was keen. Instantly every nerve ending burned as if she’d plunged into hell.

  She didn’t remain a dragon for more than a second before she humanshaped. No one had to ask if she’d been in pain.

  Her nerves twitched. She’d borne it for only a moment. She couldn’t imagine hours of that unendurable pain, days of that searing agony. She’d rather die than suffer that kind of torture.

  “I’m sorry,” Lex said with sadness.

  “Are you all right?” Rion asked her and slipped his arm around her.

  She sagged against him, then slowly straightened. “I will be.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “It’s not my DNA that gave me temporary immunity. I’ve failed you. I can’t withstand that kind of pain and focus enough to send a message, too.”

  “No one could.” Rion cupped her chin and lifted her head until their eyes locked. “This is not your fault.”

  She nodded, then leaned against Rion, soaking up his heat. Her nerve endings still tingled with residual bursts of pain. “But unless we figure this out, I can’t send a telepathic message. I’ve come here for nothing. My talent is no good to you if I can’t use telepathy.”

  An awkward silence fell. The women and some men began to drift away.

  But Rion’s eyes still burned with determination. “Look, you’ve done what no one else has done. You banished the pain for a little while.” He tucked her against his side. “Now that we know it’s possible, you’ve given us hope.”

  “If you say so.”

  “We’re going to figure out what just happened and duplicate it. And then we’re going to use it to save my people.”

  Slowly, her limbs stopped trembling. She prayed that they wouldn’t ask her to dragonshape again. Not tonight. She wasn’t up for more pain.

  Rion led her to a couch, where she sat. “Perhaps we’re not asking the right questions.”

  “What do you mean?” Lex asked Rion and pulled up a chair. Many of the nursery workers left to care for the children. Others wandered off to their beds. Only Lex, Darian, and Rion stayed.

  Rion rubbed her shoulders and neck. “Back on Earth, Marisa was in human form when she unknowingly broadcast to adult dragonshapers and they became agitated.” He speared her with an apologetic glance. “This time, when she broadcast again in human form, she made the babies happy and took away their pain.”

  “Let me see if I understand this.” Lex frowned. “When you communicate telepathically to the group, you send emotions along with the message?”

  She nodded. “The emotions I send are unintentional, but just like your words convey emotion by their tones, my telepathic messages convey emotions.”

  “And you’re also telepathic with dragons in human form?” Lex asked.

  “Yes, but I’m a much stronger telepath after I dragonshape. When I’m human, the message is weak.”

  “That’s it.” Rion’s eyes lit with excitement. “When you’re human, the message is weaker—but the emotions you send are stronger!”

  Marisa caught his excitement. “And those emotions are disrupting the Tyrannizer?”

  A real cousin would wash his hands in blood to keep yours clean.

  —ANONYMOUS POET

  20

  Rion accompanied Marisa to their quarters, his hopes higher than they’d been since they’d arrived. A fire burned in him to make sense out of what Marisa had just done. “Marisa, you told us that you don’t consciously send emotions when you send telepathic messages.”

  “That’s true.”

  “But could you deliberately broadcast your emotions along with a message?” Rion asked, his pulse pounding.

  She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. The only time I ever used telepathy in human form was with my brother. And he’s been gone for most of the last decade. I’m out of practice.” She sighed. “But I’m still not certain your theory’s correct. I was happy while helping the baby dragons, but at the end—my emotions didn’t stop the pain.”

  “Maybe you were in dragonshape for so long, the human emotions that protected you faded. And that’s when the pain hit.”

  “Maybe. That would also explain why I had no protection at all the second time I morphed.” She sighed. “But even if I could do it again, adults interpret the happiness and joy that come from my passion differently than the babies. Babies eat and play and fly. Adults fight.”

  Rion had always believed Marisa was special. But who would have thought that sending her human emotions down her telepathic link was the key to preventing the Tyrannizer’s pain?

  Her talent was awesome. Of course, right now they still had only a theory. One he needed to test.

  Rion climbed into bed next to Marisa in their room in Winhaven, but she remained silent. Stiff. Still.

  Her breathing told him she wasn’t asleep. Her effect on the dragon children obviously had her mind spinning. By now he knew her well enough to know she didn’t always see things the same way he did.

  He kept his voice low and easy. “What’s wrong?”

  She spoke slowly, her tone earnest. “In human form, I’ve affected the dragons twice, both times while we made love. When my mind wasn’t on anything but you.”

  So she was way ahead of him. “Maybe that’s the key.”

  “Huh?” She rolled onto her side and rested her cheek in her hand. In the moonlight that beamed through the window, he could just make out her features. Eyes wide, she wasn’t smiling.

  “Maybe extreme feelings wrap you in some kind of protective bubble.”

  She sighed. “I suppose that makes sense. But that doesn’t explain why I didn’t feel any pain after I first dragonshaped but then it hit me later.”

  “Perhaps there’s a brief after-sex effect.”

  “An afterglow?” Her mouth twisted. “I hardly think we are the only people on the planet having sex.”

  “But you may be the only human telepath on the planet.”

  “I suppose.” She sounded tired. “This sounds… bizarre.”

  He kept his tone reasonable. “Suppose we kiss—”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You think you’re going to get lucky again?”

  “A lot of lucky.” He grinned. “But while we kiss, try to figure out what you’re broadcasting.”

  She scowled at him. “How will we know if I send anything?”

  “Maybe you send automatically,” he suggested, hearing her reluctance. “Maybe you can learn to control it. Maybe kissing won’t even be necessary eventually—not that I mind kissing you…”

  “Kissing or making love all the time is a li
ttle impractical. Especially for a crown prince—your people might expect you to govern them… or something,” she teased.

  “I know the idea’s wacky. But if your skill could save my people…”

  “You’ve seen this in a flash?” she asked.

  He wanted to lie, but he’d promised he wouldn’t. He shook his head. “It’s more like a hunch. Or maybe I just need an excuse to kiss you.” He slowly leaned toward her, his eyes on hers.

  She placed a hand on his chest. “Wait. Suppose I upset the children again?”

  “They’re in human form now. Besides, you made them happy, remember?”

  “Still, some of them could have happily flown into a wall and broken their wings. I think we need a more controlled experiment. Maybe with just one dragon close by and the others far away.”

  “How far?”

  “Damn.” She trembled. “On Earth my range was over twenty miles.”

  “I’ll talk to Lex, and we’ll think of something.”

  “What exactly are you going to tell him?” Her tone sharpened, and he realized that although she wanted to help, she was uncomfortable with others knowing what they would attempt.

  “I’ll say that you need a private place to work on dampening the pain. And we want to make sure the babies don’t go wild on us again.”

  “No specifics?”

  “No specifics.” His people didn’t need to know how Marisa did what she did, not unless she could find a way to teach others. At first, she could try to teach him.

  “Good.” She licked her bottom lip. “So we’re waiting on kissing until tomorrow?”

  He tugged her toward him, pleased when she snuggled, but all of a sudden, she jerked away. He frowned. “What?”

  “Touching may not be such a good idea, either.” Her voice was guarded.

  “Why not?”

  “Because your touching me creates feelings. And if I start broadcasting…”

  He groaned. “So I’m not ever going to be able to touch you without everyone within twenty miles knowing exactly how happy I’m making you?”

  “Damn.” She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. “And what happens if I get angry and broadcast that?”

  His heart skipped. “Has that ever happened?”