by Toni Kerr
“It’s just different. Everyone looks the same for the most part, like human-shaped silhouettes of heat signals. But I’ll know your scent—”
“Okay.” Dorian pulled away and Tristan let her go, shuddering at the cool breeze wafting around him as his wings withdrew. “That’s kinda creepy.”
Fine. He knew the nice Dorian couldn’t possibly last much longer. “Then I’ll make it creepier by telling you I know Oliver, Eric, and Philip’s scent too.”
“By hugging them?”
“Of course not. Donovan stole worn articles of clothing for a few hours.”
“Mine, too?”
“Yes.” He watched the hatred dance in her eyes. “I’m a…” Beast? Creature? Monster? There was no positive way to explain how the world changed. “I have to know who I have some sort of connection with somehow. Otherwise….”
“Otherwise what? It’s a free-for-all feeding frenzy?”
“Yes.” If that’s what she needed as a warning to take this seriously, fine. But he needed to know who to trust, who to protect, and who to be extra cautious around, and this lack of understanding was the exact reason why a personal relationship between them would never work. He made his wings visible and turned his back on her. Not because she didn’t have an issue with seeing them, but because he had no intension of pretending he could lead a normal life. His wings should remind her that he had a dangerous side. “Do us both a favor and stay away from me.”
“Maybe I will.”
He waited for her to stomp away, but she didn’t.
“Why won’t you tell me about being immortal?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Are you kidding? I thought we were friends. You didn’t think I’d notice if you didn’t age?” This is a big deal!”
“It’s not going to save me, Dorian.”
“I can’t believe you can be that ungrateful. People would—”
Tristan clenched his jaw.
“You could do everything you ever wanted to do with an endless amount of time. Travel the world, learn every language, every subject...everything! Nothing could stop you.”
“You’re not listening.”
“You’re not seeing the bigger picture!”
“Forget it, Dorian.”
“Fine.” She stormed back toward the circle of lights. “Thief,” she muttered.
Tristan glanced over his shoulder and spotted Donovan, half in silvery moonlight, half in a golden lamplight, acknowledging Dorian and her comment as she hurried passed.
“Surely you don’t still doubt your ability to control yourself around people?”
Tristan shifted his gaze back to the reflections on the lake. “No. I think I’m fine, so long as everything is calm and going well.”
“The immortality?”
“I can’t think about that right now.”
“Fair enough.”
“She’s being stupid. I’m not a cute little puppy to cuddle with and she doesn’t seem to realize I could bite her head off.”
Donovan clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head with a dramatic sigh.
“Besides, don’t you think I have enough on my plate without dealing with her, too?”
“Better to protect yourself, is what you’re saying?”
“I don’t see you dating anyone while all of this is going on.”
“My reasons are different,” said Donovan.
“But you have reasons all the same, so lay off.” Tristan kept his biggest reason to himself.
“Perhaps it is for the best.” Donovan headed back to the lamp-lit clearing. “Let’s get this over with.”
Tristan followed, leaving his wings exposed. He ignored the people as they stopped what they were doing and straightened to face the center, where one of Eric’s crafted bowls sat surrounded by fresh flowers and glass balls. Tristan wasn’t sure it would matter to anyone, but Alvi, Dorian, and Pink all thought festive decorations would be fun and appropriate. He pulled the sapphire from his pocket and gently placed it in the shallow bowl.
35
LIBERATION
“THANK YOU ALL, once again, for being here.” He glanced across the golden-lit meadow and found Dorian, her chocolate-brown eyes wide and expectant. She was the only one in the group who’d never seen him as a dragon. Half of him wanted to keep it that way, while the other half wanted her to know everything. Not so she could make a truly informed decision about being in a relationship with him, but so she’d know there was nothing she could have done to change things.
Even if things hadn’t ended up this way, their feelings for each other could go either way depending on the direction of wind. Not a very promising foundation.
Right or wrong, there was no reason to delay the inevitable.
With a nod of approval from Donovan, Tristan stepped back a few paces to avoid harming Ardon’s lowest branches, and let his bones take their natural shape. It was a struggle to keep himself squeezed into such a small body. Relief filled his elongated muscles and his wings felt strong. Free.
The line of yellow-orange humans stared at him, radiating a respectable fear. The green one was speaking in low, monotonous tones.
Reaching trees surrounded the area, though there was a clear path to the sparkling sky above. He sharpened his attention on the approaching green man, inspecting him for guns or sources of fireballs, lulled slightly by his soothing voice, until a twig snapped in the nearby shrubs, followed by the brushing of branches.
Do not harm the elk, the great tree said. He is sacred among us.
The elk stepped into the clearing with the lamplight glistening in his eyes. A female from the group screeched and a table full of sliced red meat appeared. Something was off.
While his attention had been on the large animal, the green man crept closer. Too close. But he would not be forced from his own land. The shouting girl began throwing rocks at the poor creature.
Stand closer to me.
The elk pranced toward him, unafraid.
Tristan! Don’t you dare do this!
Tristan studied her curiously as she ran forward, dropping his neck to barricade the poor animal from her attacks. In a blink, the green man vanished from where he was and had her off the ground—her arms beating against his chest.
Anger surged through him as the green man carried her back to the line of people. A fading pixie flew past his eyes and landed on the nearest branch. You wouldn’t hurt her, would you, Tristan?
His name. But what brought him here? The people were becoming more fearful. So was he, in the confusion of it. The girl. Dorian. How could he let a man carry her away?
A bowl surrounded by fragrant flowers sat on a small table. Tiny lights hung from the tree’s branches.
The pixie, Pink, landed on his nose. Come on. Lower me to the ground. That way. She pointed to the green man. The shift of weight sent jarring pain into his chest as Tristan lowered his jaw to the ground, stretching his neck forward. He snorted against the green man. Donovan.
You better be coming to your senses, Tristan.
I am.
The elk meandered alongside his neck and rubbed his fur against Tristan’s jaw. Landon approached with his hand extended for the pixie, who jumped and nearly missed her landing.
Please speak with her, Tristan said to the elk.
The elk seemed as lost and confused as he was; Tristan mentally nudged it toward the girl. Why are we gathered? He raised his head from the ground, but remained on his belly.
We are gathered to release the being in the sapphire. But before we begin, I would like everyone to approach you, to ease their fears. Will you allow this?
No, came the automatic response. This is my land and you should not be— even as he thought the words, he knew they were wrong. He shook his head and blinked, waiting for clarity. Of course.
It will give you the opportunity to confirm we are here to support you.
Tristan lowered his head to the ground again, desperately trying
to recall the man’s name. Donovan?
Yes, Tristan?
Something is wrong. I do not feel…present.
We could do this another time.
I will let you decide. Tristan closed his eyes and tried to ignore the people. They came one at a time at first, then explored him freely.
Tristan? A distant voice sang with the breeze, swaying in rhythmic time with the cloud beneath him. Wake up. Please. Dorian’s voice. The cloud evaporated into a frozen mist and he extended his wings to keep himself from plummeting to the ground. The people around him snapped to attention as he jerked awake.
“The sapphire, Tristan,” said Donovan. “Then the emerald. Then you can sleep, I promise.”
The sapphire. Tristan glanced at the bowl and scooted toward it. His left arm was as useless as it was when in a human form—the clearest thought he’d had yet. I understand, he said, widening his mental words to include everyone.
The fire came easily—like breathing on a dandelion. Gentle flames shifted the rich blue surface to a forest-green, just before the gem shattered to dust. For an instant, there was nothing but colorful wings and arms and legs entangled around each other, until he called upon the souls within himself to make the creatures whole.
Two distinct beings, one male, one a female child, both clothed in silky, white fabric.
The man took one look at the humans and withdrew an arrow from the quiver at his back, notching it in his bow and pulling it back in one swift motion. A chorus of cheers erupted from the foliage surrounding them.
They won’t harm you, said Tristan, drawing the tiny man’s attention to himself.
Above, Pink leaped from branch to branch, gliding when the distance appeared too far. The man launched himself into the air to catch her, then spiraled downward, landing gracefully in the wooden bowl with Pink in his arms.
“Tell me everything!” said the man in a high-pitched, musical tone. “I was sure I’d never see you again—”
Before Pink could open her mouth to answer, the man darted to the table of food and quickly filled two shells with seeds and fruit, topping them both with honey. The fruit glowed for an instant and he served one to the child, the second to Pink, then drew her down so they could sit in a tight circle.
Tristan watched the trio, mesmerized by their harmonious voices. The child, who looked to be about ten in human years, ate steadily while nodding at whatever Pink was telling them. The warrior man refused to eat, and instead massaged Pink’s fingers, working his way up each arm, leaving a magical glow wherever he touched her.
It seemed to bring life into her bones and flesh, rejuvenating her entire body. Pink leaned into him, so he could move to her back and wings. He raked his fingers through her hair, rubbed her ears, her cheekbones, her eyelids, then shifted her in his lap to reach her feet.
The humans circled the table, equally fascinated. Landon stood at Tristan’s left, guilt rolling off him in waves. You would have broken bones if you’d tried that, Tristan said, pleased to make Landon smile. She belongs with them.
“I know.” A devastating sadness filled Tristan’s heart as Landon’s broke. “It’s just hard to let her go, even though I know she’ll be happy.”
“She was never unhappy with us,” said Victor, holding Alvi’s hand.
The three pixies took flight and rushed to the crate of flower bulbs and dirt. Pink and the young girl landed hand in hand on the side, while the man flew in dizzying figure-eights, letting magical dust from his wings settle over the surface.
“We probably couldn’t have done that either,” added Alvi.
The three zigzagged through the gaps in the trees, their twinkling glows fading with distance.
“They’re of course welcome to explore,” announced Dorian, breaking the silence, “but if someone could remind them to stay hidden from people? And I’d like to know where they set up camp and what they might need for living arrangements—food and shelter, certain flowers or liquids.”
Consider it done, replied Ardon, as the message was relayed outward amongst the plants.
“Thank you, Ardon,” said Dorian, though no one else could hear him speak, nor could they hear the giddy excitement from the shrubs. Tristan studied her more carefully, curious that they alone shared the ability to communicate with the plants.
“That leaves the emerald. Tristan?”
Tristan blinked slowly, pulling his attention from Dorian.
“Tristan?” repeated Donovan. “Are you sure you want to do two in one night?”
Yes. The thought choked in his throat and fire caught on his coughs. There was no way to tell if the flavor of blood was real or imagined. Left pocket. He eyed the shredded pile of cloth he’d been wearing before he shifted. Don’t touch it, just in case.
Donovan shook the fabric until the emerald fell to the ground. Tristan stretched his neck toward it, pausing when the green man didn’t retreat.
You should move, Tristan said, holding back the breath of fire.
“Your nose is bleeding. Why?”
He tilted his head to the side, unable to think of an answer.
“This can wait. Shift back.”
It’s now or never. She deserves her freedom, for keeping me alive this long.
“Wait—what do you mean by that?” Dorian asked, shoving her way between Landon and Victor to stand in front of them. “Now or never? I’m sure we can keep Oliver, Eric, and Philip occupied for another night—tomorrow even….”
The group remained silent. Everyone seemed to understand what would happen except her.
“If it’s about the cure, just give me more time,” she said, with tears running down her cheeks. “I can figure it out. I’m close!”
There is no cure. No one survives this.
“Yes they do! You’ve survived this long, so how can you just pick a time and die? What about the rest of the gems waiting to be released?”
Tristan rested his head on the ground and let her rant on, even after she took to pounding his cheek with her tightly clenched fist.
“You’re just going to give up on them, too? Let all the magical races rot for the rest of eternity?”
“Listen.” Donovan finally took pity and wrapped his arms around her from behind, avoiding her head as she tried to slam his face with it. “I promised I wouldn’t mess with your mind, but if you don’t stop and listen, I’ll have no choice in the matter.”
“You can’t say anything to fix this,” she said.
“The emerald has been keeping him alive. When he releases it, he gives up his immortality.”
“Then he shouldn’t release it. He should save it for last!”
Tristan opened his eyes in time to see Donovan collect himself emotionally. “He is.”
“But he made a deal! He can’t quit!”
“There’s a difference between quitting and doing everything within your power.” Donovan jerked his head toward the emerald. Go ahead. We’ll take it from here.
Thank you. He should have said more, while he still could, but every breath took more of his concentration—inhaling without exhaling, just to have enough air to carry fire.
A weak flame rode on a cough and sigh, skidding over the blades of grass and nearly extinguishing before it could reach the emerald. He cleared a path in his mind for the valkyrie’s soul to leave him, just as the emerald shattered.
A tall, lean woman with long braided hair stood before him, in leather and metal armor, wrapped in tangles of straps and various weapons. “Now you can shift,” she said sternly, producing a loaded crossbow and pointing it at the crowd. “You can all step back.”
Donovan stepped forward, sword drawn. “Put down your weapon.”
The woman strode toward him, the tip of her arrow staying level with his heart. “You first, old man.”
“We mean you no harm.”
“Then lower your weapons.” Her challenging grin widened.
Donovan clenched his jaw and slowly lowered his sword. “All of you. Lower you
r weapons as a show of good faith.”
“Better,” she said, spinning to face Tristan. “Why haven’t you shifted? Is this how you wish to remain?”
“He doesn’t have to—” Donovan started.
“What sort of body would you like to deal with?”
“I will deal with whatever form he is in,” spat Donovan, stepping against the point of her arrow. “You must have a reason for wanting him to shift. What is it?”
“Now you’re thinking.” She rested the crossbow on her shoulder and patted the side of his face. “I’m surprised it took you so long.”
Landon raised his hand, then seemed to think better of it. “I’m not so quick. Would you mind explaining it to me? Shifting is very hard on him, it would probably kill him.”
“You, Landon, are a true treasure.” She closed the distance and whispered something in his ear, then kissed him on the mouth.
“Shift, Tristan! You can do it!”
The woman side-stepped to Victor next, kissing him hard before he could ask what had changed Landon’s mind. “You are just too cute for words, equally as precious.”
Donovan drew his sword and slashed it upward, but she flicked it away with a twitch of her hand and suddenly Donovan couldn’t move, frozen stiff with an enraged expression on his face.
“Well, this isn’t going like I’d hoped,” said the woman, freezing the entire group of people who were in the act of coming to Donovan’s defense. Everyone except Landon and Victor. “You!” She pointed at Dorian, who caught herself before falling and ran to Tristan, then stood defiantly to guard him. “Do you want to know what the cure is for that poison?” asked the woman, so quietly Tristan could barely hear.
“Does it matter at this point?”
“Of course it does. I didn’t think you would give up on him that fast.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The cure for the poison is death. And the boy needs to be in a human form for me to make him immortal.”
Dorian glanced at Landon and Victor. “You guys trust her?”
Tristan did. He closed his eyes and willed his bones to implode.
“What do you have to lose, should be the question,” answered the valkyrie. “I do enjoy your feisty attitude, and your loyalty.” She put a hand on Dorian’s cheek, and raised her eyebrows when Dorian leaned away.
