by Sunny
“You need only the one piece, milady.”
“The other strips are to bind your wounds, you idiot, so you don’t lose any more blood. And call me Lucinda. None of that ‘milady’ crap. Not here with just the two of us.”
“I call you milady to show my respect for you.”
“You can do the same by calling me by my name, damn it. I’d prefer it.”
“As you wish . . . Lucinda.”
“Hari?” A slight pause. “You’re not injured more than you’re letting on, are you?”
“No. Why?”
“You’re not usually this polite.”
He snorted. Sour amusement tinged with sadness. “No. It’s just where Derek clawed me up, and the oil making me so damn weak.” Shame lanced him even worse than the physical pain as he thought of his past treatment of her. “I apologize, deeply, for not being as respectful toward you in the past as I should have been.”
“Hari, you’re not polite to anyone. No need to treat me any differently.”
“But there is need. Every need. You are drakon.”
“Don’t whip yourself over believing my mother’s lie when she claimed me a bastard, not of my father’s blood. Even I believed it.” Silence as she turned toward him. “Why does my having dragon blood make such a difference to you?”
“You do not know,” he said, “how it once was to be a respected member of the dragon clan. I was born into Monère life two hundred years before you and your brother. By the time you arrived, most of our clan blood had become too diluted to shape-shift into dragon form.”
“You knew others who flew as dragon?”
“Yes, many others once. The Monère used to live in separate clans, settled around their Queen. It was not all randomly mixed up in heritage as it is now. The dragon, phoenix, and griffin clans were among the most powerful, but they slowly lost their dominance as their numbers died out. Fewer and fewer children came from pure-blood unions, only from matings outside of the clan—one of the reasons why your father chose your mother as his mate. Both were among the last pure-bloods of their respective clans. But while children resulted from these unions, the diluted offspring of these three strong clans lost the ability to shift into any animal form.”
“Like Halcyon and myself.”
“And Ruric and I. The mixing of blood affected the wolves, tigers, and other clans much less than it did those of the dragon, phoenix, and griffin bloodline. They still retained the ability to shift into their animal forms; we did not. Humans claim the last of the dragons were slain by knights, but that is not true. We died out simply because we could not breed pure and true anymore. But upon our death, our blood proved strong. Even those of diluted dragon blood, who made the transition to demon dead, existed far longer than any of the others, who faded away mostly after a century or two. Only those two other clans, phoenix and griffin, came close to matching our longevity.
“Dying, becoming demon dead, oddly enough, was a vast improvement over my Monère life. There were few enough of us left by then, that even those of diluted dragon blood became treasured. We lived together in Dracon Village, a few miles away from the central city. Only a few, like your father, mated to someone from another strong clan, lived outside of the village.”
“I’ve never heard of Dracon Village,” Lucinda said.
“It no longer exists. Xzavier, the previous ruler of Hell, was of the phoenix bloodline. He was a powerful and corrupt despot. Our dragon Queen gave the High Lord’s procurer the food and blood tithe owed him, but she refused to hand over two of our women to serve as the High Lord’s concubines—what he demanded of our village one tax year. Xzavier used this refusal as an excuse to destroy us; we were too powerful, you see. He came to our village when half our men were out hunting, and slaughtered everyone; not only the men but the women, too. He butchered every single female, including our Queen, effectively destroying our clan. Without our Queen, without our women, the warriors who survived the slaughter had nothing left to exist for, other than revenge.”
“Which you took,” Lucinda said.
“Your father did, eventually. He came to the village when he heard the news, and found us weeping, hardened warriors crying like children. Most of the bodies had been destroyed and burned by Xzavier’s army before they left, or already eaten by scavenging beasts. Only a few remained, their bodies torn up into so many scattered pieces the enemy considered them as good as already gone. One, such, was Ruric.”
Lucinda made a small sound.
“Nine separate pieces—I counted them—with his skull shattered and his face smashed up. Your father put all the pieces of him back together. Few healers could have done what your father did—heal Ruric and make him whole and functional again. Ruric was the only one we were able to save from that slaughter, and it took two seasons for him to fully recover. During that time, Xzavier decimated Griffinmass Village, and then turned to his own phoenix clan, killing all the men, thereby effectively eliminating his strongest challengers, all but your father, a handful of dragon warriors, and a few males from the other clans who lived outside their village.” Hari paused, caught up for a moment in the bloody memories of that time.
Lucinda took the opportunity to gently wind the cloth she had knotted into a long strip around him.
“I can’t see,” Lucinda said, her voice soft, sweetly feminine. A balm to Hari’s raw spirit. “You’ll have to position it yourself. Try to cover as much of your wounds as possible.”
He obediently adjusted the binding. “My worst wounds were dealt by Xzavier a long time ago, when he wiped out our village. A large part of me perished with our people that day. You have to understand. Ruric worships Blaec, and will always be loyal and devoted to him. But a part of me resented your father. For not being there. Or maybe I was just simply jealous. All had not ended for Blaec. He still had his family: his phoenix mate at his side, his Monère children still alive in the living realm. While your father grieved for the others, his heart was still whole and intact. His closest loved ones had not been destroyed. That was what allowed him to lead the rest of us. His heart and his spirit weren’t broken by devastating loss.”
“As yours was.”
“Aye, as mine was,” he agreed. “What there was of my family, my friends, were all forever gone. In the Great Revolt that followed, the rest of our dragon warriors fell. We won the war, but we also lost at the same time. Only your father, Ruric, and I—and then later your brother, upon his death and transition—remained of the once great dragon clan. Only a few surviving men. No women until you came to us, demon dead, and then only for a brief time before your mother took you from us with her lies, claiming that you were not of dragon blood.”
“I still don’t know why my mother would lie like that,” Lucinda said in a small voice. “Why she hated me so much.”
“Because you could have become our dragon Queen. We would have had a true dragon clan once more, while the other two powerful clans were forever gone, including her own phoenix clan. She did not hate you so much, I think. More that she did not want you to have something she could never have. But your father she hated. Your mother, Evaline, bitterly resented your father’s rise to power, while she had lost all of hers. She wished to keep palace slaves as Xzavier had, but Blaec abolished the practice, keeping only a tenth as house servants, only those who desired to stay, and paying them wages. When your father did away with the tributes and cut the tax tithe down to less than a quarter of what it had been, Evaline called him an idealistic fool, someone who did not know how to rule.”
Lucinda had known her parents’ relationship had become strained and bitter there at the end. But she had not known why.
“Were they happy before he became the High Lord of Hell?” she asked.
“Strangely, yes. Before your father seized control of the throne, your mother was content with their arrangement, even though it was an odd coupling. She had been a former Monère Queen and descended from ruling aristocracy in the phoenix line, whil
e your father was only a mere warrior in the dragon clan. In her eyes she married down, and not only that, had taken a mate from a rival clan. But the reason for their joining—to have children—made this acceptable. It was the sudden reversal of their power and roles here that brought out the hostility and bitter resentment in your mother. He suddenly had all the power, while she had lost all of hers. She was no longer a Monère Queen but just another demon dead woman down in Hell.”
“Yes,” Lucinda said, remembering. “It was quite a shock going from being a Queen, the center of my people’s world, to being just an ordinary female.”
“And yet you lifted yourself up from ordinary to extraordinary,” Hari said. “Even after your mother did her best to destroy your new existence by claiming you bastard and taking away all the status and clan protection that should have been rightfully yours, you found a new path for yourself by becoming a guardian and walking the living realm. Becoming a legend in your own right.”
“Not so much legend as maybe simply notorious.”
“I disagree. Your mother was notorious, declaring you a bastard, dealing a pain severe enough to the High Lord to send him into a spiraling decline, and then cowardly ending her own demon dead existence . . . but only after doing her hateful best to leave a lasting mess behind. That is notorious. You, on the other hand, continued to serve your realm, your people, becoming one of the youngest demons to successfully attempt the portals. Then capturing and bringing back demon rogues—many that were centuries older than you yourself—in such numbers that you left the other guardians looking slack-witted and empty-handed. Faithfully serving almost five centuries now. That is legend.”
“You avoided me,” she said suddenly, “you and Ruric. Looked past me, through me, as if I did not exist.”
“It was too painful to see what we had lost,” he said simply.
“And now?”
“Now the dragon clan has a chance of existing once more with you, whole and unbroken. That is why knowing you have dragon blood flowing in you matters so much to me: seeing dragons fly the sky once more when we had thought that time forever gone. You cannot know what that means to me, Ruric . . . your father. Your young dragon form—it’s such a beautiful sight.”
“Young?” A soft snort. “I’m several centuries old . . . not young.”
“But your dragon is. You’re round, bulkier.”
She huffed out a laugh. “You’re saying my dragon is fat.” “Not fat. Beautiful. Adorably plump with youthful vibrancy. You will become sleeker and leaner with maturity.”
But only if she survived.
“Why are you telling me all this, Hari?”
“Because Derek will do his best to try to end your existence now before you ever reach full maturity.”
“That’s not news to me,” she said flatly. “I know he intends to end us.”
“But he will not do so until after you shift into dragon form.”
“He will allow us that chance, that possibility of escape?” There was a spurt of hope and excitement in her voice. “How do you know?”
“His actions. Removing the shackles from us. Allowing us to wipe the oil from our skin, knowing that the stultifying effects of the oil will wear off less than an hour after we do so.”
Even with dimmed senses, they could hear the sound of movement, many voices gathering outside.
“Doesn’t mean he won’t just cut us down in the arena before we come back to our full strength.” A beat. And then she demanded, “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”
“He used death magick to snatch us, bring us here.”
“Snatch me, not you. You didn’t have to be captured. You should have just let me go. Saved yourself instead of dragging yourself along as an additional hostage.”
“Lucinda . . . my lady. My precious dragon Queen,” he said wistfully. Almost tender. “You change me. Make me want to be better than what I am. I abandoned you once before upon your mother’s lie. I will not abandon you again.”
“Tell me what you think will happen.”
“Do you remember when Ruric and I brought down the giant Gordicean worm, and Ruric ate the beast’s heart and I the brain?”
“I remember.”
“Do you know why we did it?”
“I know those organs are considered delicacies, especially to older demons.”
“The land has become almost too tamed and civilized under your father’s and brother’s rule,” Hari murmured. “There is not much opportunity anymore to battle any of the great beasts. Eating the heart and brain of the Gordicean didn’t just renew us; it imbued us with some of our vanquished foe’s strength and power—a temporary effect that lasts only a day.”
“Like drinking a Floradëur’s blood?” Lucinda asked.
“Something similar to that, yes, but gaining less than a quarter the strength a Floradëur’s blood would impart us. We’re not as revved up. Nor do we crash into sleep after the effect wears off. The added strength just fades away gradually and we are as we originally were.”
“Doesn’t seem like much of a benefit. Not enough to risk letting me shift into dragon form and possibly escape.”
“Oh, I’m sure Derek will do everything he can to make ultimate escape for you impossible. But it is not just the stealing of your strength he wishes.” Hari’s voice dropped low. “Does the name Myrddhin mean anything to you?”
“He was a mad demon sorcerer who existed a long time ago,” Lucinda answered. “A Mixed Blood, I believe, one quarter human blood.”
“You are correct. He was abandoned at birth, due to that mixed blood, and grew up among humans. Never knew of his Monère heritage before dying and making the surprising transition to Hell. Not many other demons would find the name he used before then significant, but you are more familiar with human history than most, having walked as a guardian for so long. Before his demon transition, he was known as Merlin. Is that name familiar to you?”
A small, quiet, “Yes.”
“Myrddhin was a powerful sorcerer and seer when he was alive and thought himself human. He became even more powerful and much darker in death, devoting himself to his greatest passion, trying to find a way back to life. Not as a demon hopping a portal to the living realm, but permanently—truly having his dead body filled again with living energy. They called him the mad demon sorcerer. Not to his face, of course. Even though they did not know of his human notoriety, he had ended enough demons by then for them to know that he was quite deadly. When Myrddhin began to dabble and experiment in death magick, then they began to fear him. He is mostly known now as the originator and creator of death magick. He was also Xzavier’s half-brother, almost the clone image of Xzavier’s maternal uncle. Quite a surprise to the family—and him, I’m sure. But they made use of him. He was responsible for Xzavier’s rise to power. When Xzavier made his bid for the throne, Myrddhin was at his side, and all other demon challengers became afflicted with a mysterious non-healing state. They claimed they were being haunted by ghosts and perished a short time later in battle. Myrddhin never claimed anything, just returned to his hermit life after that, but a few, including your father, always believed him to be the cause of that mysterious ailment.”
“So what happened to Myrddhin?” Lucinda asked.
“He appeared one last time during the Great War, emerging from isolation to come to his half-brother’s aid after we staged our uprising and revolt against Xzavier. Your father severely wounded him, and it was believed he perished. We never saw or heard from Myrddhin again.”
“So what does he have to do with us now?”
“Do you remember when our little flower of darkness friends and former allies, the Floradëurs, where given the new moniker Flowers of Life and became hunted? Well, that blame can be laid entirely at Myrddhin’s feet. He captured a few of them for his study. We learned of this when the Floradëur ambassador petitioned Xzavier for his kinsmen’s safe return. That’s what started the rumor that drinking the blood of a Fl
ower of Darkness could restore a demon back to life if you drank enough of it.”
“So much slaughter,” Lucinda murmured, “just because of Myrddhin’s interest?”
“As Myrddhin became more and more powerful, fewer demons scoffed at him, and more began to take his pursuit and his interests very seriously. He could do amazing things. One of them you just saw when Derek popped into the living realm without the use of a portal.”
“How do you suppose Derek came by such knowledge?”
“There have been whispers every now and then of a book that Myrddhin either found or wrote himself, a book of spells.”
“You think Derek got his hands on that somehow.”
“Yes. I also think that this abandoned settlement was probably where Myrddhin secretly practiced his magick and conducted his research. The unnatural mist . . . I should have put it together sooner with that curious affliction that took down Xzavier’s other challengers for the throne. But their demise occurred fairly quickly and we never witnessed it ourselves, just heard of it from others. I’d forgotten about it until we arrived here. But those two facts combined. . . . It makes me certain that this was once the sorcerer’s hidden base.”
Lucinda whispered, “Almost a millennium since Myrddhin has been gone, you said. It’s a little frightening to see just how powerful his dark magick once was . . . still is.”
The sounds on the outside increased. Their time was running out. Soon they would be herded into the arena.
“Yes,” agreed Hari, “frightening. But that’s not the most important thing I wish to tell you.”
“What is?”
“During the same time that Floradëurs suddenly became a hunted delicacy, Myrddhin also began collecting information about dragons. It spawned another rumor: that life could also be regained by eating a dragon’s heart and brain, its most vital organs. A very short-lived rumor since no living dragons flew the sky anymore, other than your father. But that is no longer true now. A new dragon flies the sky now. You.”
“That’s why you think Derek will allow me to shift into my dragon form,” Lucinda said quietly.
