by Rinelle Grey
“Are you challenging me?” Ultrima’s voice was dangerously quiet, but Patrima wasn’t afraid.
Adrenaline flooded his veins. This was it. His chance. He could prove that he had what it took to not only defeat his enemies, but lead his clan to victory. He straightened his shoulders, and stared into his leader’s eyes. “Maybe I am.”
In reality, he’d half thought the old dragon might realise the truth of the situation, and step aside. There was no reason he couldn’t await his princess here in luxury while the younger, more capable dragons won this war for him.
No such luck. Sparks flashed in Ultrima’s silver, dragon eyes. He didn’t say a word. But when he lifted his hand, lightning arced from the rocks around him, converging on his outstretched palm.
Patrima’s heart thudded in his chest as he drew in his own power. He was ready for this. He could do it. Ultrima was old where Patrima was fresh and young.
But he didn’t have time to unleash his own magic. As the power built in Ultrima’s hand, all he had time to do was duck and roll, trying desperately to get away from the ball of condensed lighting that Ultrima threw at him.
The gasps of those around him were distant. Pain lanced through Patrima as the ball of lightning hit his rear end. The smell of burning material and flesh filled his nostrils.
“You think you are ready to challenge me, yet you cower on the ground like a frightened rabbit,” Ultrima sneered. “You’d better run, little rabbit, before my next strike hits.”
Rage filled Patrima. He wasn’t cowering. He’d ducked. There was a difference.
He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain burning his skin. But before he could make his move, Ultrima blasted him again. First on one shoulder, then the other, knocking him back. The blasts stung, but they didn’t really hurt. They were designed to incapacitate, not kill.
Ultrima didn’t even think him a real, worthy adversary.
Patrima growled in anger and raced towards Ultrima, his hands crackling with lightning.
He reached for his leader, determined to grasp onto him and watch as the electricity surged through him. But he was gone.
Patrima spun around just in time for this blast to hit him square in the middle of the chest, knocking him back onto his already tender behind.
He sat among the tangled mess of tree and tinsel, broken baubles cutting into his already tender skin, winded.
Ultrima watched him, his eyes whirling. “Do you have the sense to stay down this time, boy?”
Patrima clenched his fists and drew in a deep breath. The anger surging through him gave him the strength to blot out the pain and bounce back up, only to be blasted back down again before he’d even regained his feet.
The pain arcing through his chest, as though Ultrima’s lightning was still flashing back and forth, was so intense it made it hard to breathe. He could probably have struggled to his feet again, but what was the point. Ultrima would just send him straight back down.
Patrima slumped back onto the pine needles, not even caring how much his whole body burned.
He’d failed. And worse, he’d made fool of himself doing it.
Why had he ever thought he could take on Ultrima? Sure, he’d never actually seen the old dragon fight, but everyone had talked about his power, his skill. His determination.
The same determination Patrima could see shining in his eyes now.
He’d been an idiot.
“Get out of here, before I throw you out,” Ultrima spat. “You have no place here in Trima clan.”
A cold chill ran through Patrima. He wanted to beg to be allowed to stay, to insist that he had nowhere else to go. But he knew how well that worked on the old dragon. He’d tried it once before.
Instead he struggled to his feet, blocking out the pain, and managed a half bow. “As you wish,” he said stiffly.
The whole room was silent.
Patrima didn’t even look at them as he limped towards the cave entrance.
His mind was blank. It refused to even think about where he would go, and what he would do. All he was thinking was how to make it out of the mountain lair without collapsing on the floor in pain.
“May I at least tend to his wounds before he leaves?”
Patrima’s eyes flicked towards the doorway where his mother stood, her human eyes dark and sad.
His heart ached far worse than any of the wounds.
He’d let her down.
Again.
“I’m fine,” he growled. “I don’t need your human nursing.”
The pain on his mother’s face hurt deeper than Ultrima’s lightning had. He’d always disappointed her, from the first moment they’d moved here to the dragon lair to be with his father. Or maybe from the first moment his sister had been born as both moments were so close together as to be indistinguishable.
But even though his mother was hurt, it didn’t deter her. “If you are leaving the lair, you won’t have the option to enter the Mesmer. If those wounds get infected…”
Patrima knew all about that. He’d faced infection a time or two, and had to resort to the Mesmer to deal with it once. If he didn’t have access to that…
What did he care? If he were banished from his clan, what did it matter if he lived or died? He had no purpose outside of defeating his enemies.
They weren’t even his enemies, they were his clan’s enemies.
Ultrima waved a hand dismissively. “Treat his wounds then. He can even use the Mesmer to heal before he leaves if he can find anyone to partner with him, but then he must pack his things and go.”
There were murmurs from the crowd. No doubt praising Ultrima’s benevolence.
“I don’t need the Mesmer. I’ve done just fine without it before,” Patrima said flatly.
His mother frowned at him. “If you don’t let me treat those, I won’t let you leave alone.”
Patrima almost laughed at that. Did she think she was going to be able to stop him leaving? Ultrima had thrown him out. She certainly couldn’t overrule that.
Then her words sunk in. Leave alone.
She wasn’t seriously thinking of coming with him if he didn’t agree, was she?
Of leaving his father and sister behind?
But she looked very serious, glaring at him with her hands on her hips.
Patrima’s heart skipped a beat.
She’d do that? For him?
Well, he didn’t want her to. This was his problem. He’d caused it, and he’d deal with it.
Apparently right after he let her see to his wounds.
Patrima bit back a sigh. It was probably for the best. The one on his butt stung like crazy, and the one on his chest could well be serious. As much as the physical pain distracted him from the emotional pain that grasped at his heart at the thought of leaving his clan, it wasn’t worth dying for.
“Fine. But hurry up. I have no intention of staying where I’m obviously not wanted for any longer than I have to.”
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About the Author
If you read a Rinelle Grey story, you can trust in a happy ending. Love will always triumph, even if it seems impossible… Rinelle Grey writes feel-good romance usually in science fiction or fantasy settings. Her heroines are independent and headstrong, and her stories are hard to put down.
She grew up in a remote area of Australia, without power, hot water, or a phone, but now lives with all of those and her (happily ever after) husband, daughter, chooks, ducks and veggie garden.
She loves to receive e-mails at [email protected], or follow her on facebook or twitter.
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