One Good Dragon Deserves Another (Heartstrikers Book 2)

by Rachel Aaron

  Under normal circumstances, the explosion would have been green, the undying emerald fire of his grandfather. Without his Fang, though, Justin’s blast was the rich, molten orange of his own fire, but it was still more than enough. Everything his flames touched—the loamy ground, the tall trees, his clothes, Vann Jeger’s surprised face—turned instantly to ash. Justin alone was immune, because the fire was him, the burning magic that made him what he was. And when the glare died down a heartbeat later, he was looking down on the now burning forest from his true height.

  “Who’s a whelp now?” the dragon roared, breathing another blast of flame at the trees, spreading the forest fire until even the ever-present fog was overwhelmed by smoke. “Still want to leave me to your humans?”

  His taunt was still echoing when he smelled the spirit’s bloody, seawater scent behind him. Justin swiveled his head, turning just in time to see Vann Jeger condense from what was left of the mist at the top of one of the smoldering trees with another weapon, a metal spear this time, glinting in his hands. He hadn’t even finished forming before he threw it, launching the weapon straight at the soft spot below Justin’s jaw. But fast as the spirit was, Justin was faster.

  Without even the conceit of a human shape to weigh him down, the dragon moved like lightning, ducking under the spear before lashing out with his tail to knock the spirit’s tree completely out of the ground. The blow caught the spirit off guard. He stumbled, bracing against the falling tree. He was beginning to dissolve back into the mist when Justin lashed out with his claws, pinning the water spirit to the still falling tree before he could get away.

  There was nothing held back this time, nothing saved for later. From the moment Justin had realized what it would take to win, every move had led up to this. In just a few seconds, Vann Jeger would turn back into water and slip away. Right now, though, the spirit was pinned beneath his talons, and like any true dragon, Justin came down on him with everything he had.

  He opened his mouth with a roar, engulfing Vann Jeger in a blast of fire so hot, it changed the consistency of the air itself. Brilliant, orange-white flames snaked around the spirit’s blue body like chains, and everywhere they touched, Vann Jeger vanished, his water instantly turning to vapor.

  But even after he’d boiled the spirit away completely, Justin didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Fire like this could only be summoned once. Already, Justin’s throat was cracking under the heat. It’d be days before he recovered enough to pull off an attack like this again. If he didn’t end things now, he wouldn’t get another shot, so Justin decided to make sure he wouldn’t need one.

  From the moment he’d realized Vann Jeger could reform himself from the mist, he’d known the only way to actually defeat him was to keep burning until there was no water left at all. With that in mind, he pulled back, bathing the entire forest in a wash of orange fire. He pushed his fire hotter with every breath, pumping the bellows of his magic until the soil beneath him began to vaporize and the trees at the far edge of his vision spontaneously burst into flame. He pushed until his own feathers began to smoke and the rapidly expanding air created a shockwave that blasted the ancient trees flat in all directions. He pushed until every molecule of oxygen was consumed, smothering his own flames and leaving nothing for him to breathe. Even then, he pushed a little further, pouring his heat into the landscape until even the rocks were burning. Only then, when everything that could be destroyed had been, did Justin finally let his fire die.

  It was like standing on another planet. The misty forest was gone, as was the soil below it. Even the omnipresent, oppressive magic of the Reclamation Land had been burned away, leaving him standing alone in a bone-dry crater of fine, powdery ash. But satisfying as it was to witness the absolute thoroughness of his victory, even Justin couldn’t remain in the heavy carbon dioxide bubble his intense heat had created. His lungs were already empty from creating the massive fire, and so Justin had no choice but to use the last of his strength to spread his wings and fly up, forcing his body through the unnaturally heavy air until he finally broke through the ceiling of smoke and exploded into the clear sky above.

  He sucked the cold, clear air into his ravaged lungs with a gasp, knocking the ash out of his feathers with a powerful beat of his wings. When he was no longer in danger of suffocating, he took a different kind of breath, scenting the air for any lingering trace of his enemy, and found nothing. Even up here where there was still water, his sensitive nose didn’t pick up so much as a trace of Vann Jeger’s briny scent, which could only mean one thing.

  He’d won.

  Satisfaction struck him like a physical blow. He’d done it. He’d gambled everything on a single attack, and it had worked. He’d known it would, of course, but to actually be on the other side, to feel his victory…there was nothing better in the world. He alone had dared to enter Algonquin’s land and face her champion, and like all who dared greatly, he’d been rewarded. He, Justin Heartstriker, had defeated the Death of Dragons!

  Now all he needed was proof.

  Sucking in a lungful of clean air, Justin dove back down into the smoke. He’d been hoping to bring home a head, but that was impossible since he’d evaporated Vann Jeger, so he’d have to settle for some other trophy. One of the spirit’s prized weapons would have been perfect, but unfortunately his own power had made trophy hunting nearly impossible. The ash bowl he’d created was as fine as silt, a quarter mile in diameter, and swallowed everything that fell into it. Even using his wings to blow the ash back, hunting for a weapon in that pit was like searching for a needle in the desert. Already, his search had taken longer than he was wise to spend, and so, with a growl of frustration, Justin decided to go back to his original plan: ripping open the secrets of Reclamation Land.

  He changed course instantly, shooting out of the cloud of smoke that marked his victory and into the clear air beyond to take his first real look at Algonquin’s hidden land. But while his plan was to do a military assessment—noting landmarks, weak points, obvious weapons, and so forth—what was waiting below him blew all such practical thoughts out of his head.

  When Justin had first found himself standing in the old-growth forest, the obvious explanation was that it was some kind of illusion, a trick of the mist. Looking down from the sky, though, Justin saw the truth was the other way around. The run down houses and overgrown lots were the illusion. Even the primeval forest where he’d faced Vann Jeger was nothing but a border, a narrow band of green wrapped protectively around a landscape like nothing he’d ever seen.

  It was like looking into a child’s illustration of fairy land. Inside the forest’s protective circle, giant mushrooms stood in rings around flowering trees the size of skyscrapers. Wolves as big as buses lounged by perfectly circular pools of cobalt blue water while deer with golden coats and silver antlers grazed in the rolling meadows beside them. Even the grass was different, growing thick as a carpet and too green to possibly be real all the way to where the lake shimmered in the distance.

  It was all so strange and beautiful and overwhelming that even Justin, who could never be accused of romanticism, took several heartbeats to realize that he was staring at spirits. Thousands of them in every type he could imagine. But while a spirit refuge actually made a great deal of sense for Algonquin’s Reclamation Land, nothing explained the magic.

  Even before he’d actually stepped inside, the power of Algonquin’s Reclamation Land had been overwhelming. Now, flying high over what he could only assume was its heart, the wild magic clung to him like tar, and that set off warning bells. Justin normally prided himself on being willfully ignorant of anything beneath the notice of a proper warrior dragon, but even he could tell that this was more magic than should ever be in one place without actually being part of a spell, and he was hundreds of feet in the air. How strong must the magic be down on the ground, where it originated?

  He couldn’t imagine, but one thing was absolutely clear: this much magic in one place could not happen natur
ally. Whatever the spirits were doing down there, the end result was a massive buildup of magic that, if this section of Reclamation Land was representative of the rest, went on for miles.

  He couldn’t begin to guess how much power that added up to in total, or what Algonquin could possibly be planning to do with it all, but he didn’t have to. Magic this big in the hands of their enemy could not be tolerated. But while he couldn’t do anything to stop a magical buildup of this magnitude, just knowing about it before Algonquin played her hand would give whoever had the information a huge advantage.

  Justin broke into a sharp-toothed grin. Forget killing the dragon hunter, this was the true prize. Information this valuable would put him at the top of Heartstriker for sure. Even if they didn’t fight the Lady of the Lakes themselves, even if she didn’t use it for a century, just knowing about the magic Algonquin was stockpiling in Reclamation Land would give Bethesda leverage over the other dragon clans for years to come, and she’d have Justin to thank for it.

  With that happy thought, he pivoted in the air and started flying as fast as he could for the border. He was gleefully imagining how his mother would react to his news when a shadow passed over his head.

  His first thought was that it was a cloud, but then he remembered that he was above the clouds. Confused, Justin swiveled his head up, squinting into the glare of the bright morning sun. Sure enough, something was in the sky above him. It wasn’t a cloud, more like a haze of water vapor shimmering in the sunlight. Shimmers that condensed into a hail of spears right before his eyes.

  Justin barely had time to comprehend what he was seeing before the falling spears crashed into him like a wall. The bladed shafts stabbed into him from tail to crest, shredding his wings like paper and punching him out of the sky. For ten terrifying seconds, he tumbled in freefall, and then he crashed into the meadow where he’d seen the golden deer grazing only seconds before, the long spears pinning him to the too-green grass like a bug on a board. He was struggling to rip himself free when the shadow passed over him again, and he looked up to see Vann Jeger standing over him, sitting relaxed on his horse like he’d been here the whole time just waiting for the dragon to fall.

  For a second, Justin could only stare in shock, and then rage like he’d never known consumed him whole. “How?” he bellowed, tearing himself against the weapons that held him down. “I destroyed you! I burned you to ash!”

  “So you did,” Vann Jeger said, dismounting with a smile that stabbed as deep as his blades. “I admit, you caught me off guard. But while your fire was unexpectedly impressive, you’re a thousand years too young to understand that fire will never be enough.”

  He held out his hand as he spoke, and an executioner’s ax formed in his palm, its half-moon blade glinting in the sunlight. “You dragons think of yourselves as conquerors,” he said solemnly, positioning the blade over Justin’s neck. “But no matter how fast you breed or how big you grow, you will never win, because we are the will of the land itself. We are undefeatable as the sea, indestructible as the wind. We are the life of this world, and when my Lady’s work here is done, we shall be its sole rulers once more.”

  “Never,” Justin snarled, baring his fangs. “You are nothing but prey!”

  The spirit chuckled. “Arrogant to the end. How typical.” He planted his boot on Justin’s head, stomping him down into the bloody grass. “It really is a pity. You had promise. In another few centuries, you might even have been a challenge. Now, though,” he lifted the blade, “all you are is dead.”

  Justin narrowed his eyes, watching the ax rise over him. If he’d had fire left, he would have melted it to slag before Vann Jeger could swing, but he had nothing. He’d already exhausted his magic on what he’d thought would be his final attack, and with the spears bleeding him dry, he didn’t have the strength left to even snap at the spirit’s boots. He was about to try anyway, if only so he could die with his teeth in his enemy as a dragon should, when the ground beneath him rumbled.

  Considering all the other weirdness going on inside Reclamation Land, Justin didn’t think much of it. Vann Jeger, however, looked up like someone had shouted his name. “No,” he growled, lips peeling back in a snarl. “This is my hunt.”

  With Vann Jeger’s boot on his forehead, Justin couldn’t turn to see who the spirit was talking to. He didn’t smell another presence, but with magic this thick, he didn’t trust his nose like he usually did. He was about to ignore whatever it was and just focus on biting off whatever part of Vann Jeger he could reach when the ground rumbled again. This time, though, the vibrations had a tonality to them. It was almost like whale song, but miles deeper, the notes so low they were more feeling than sound. But though Justin still couldn’t make heads or tails of what that meant, he knew a command when he heard one.

  “No!” Vann Jeger shouted again, removing his boot from Justin’s head so he could turn and face whatever it was properly. “So long as I guard the city, I am free to hunt when and what I choose. That was our oath, or is Algonquin going back on her word?”

  Now that the spirit’s weight was off his head, Justin could move. He’d intended to use this unexpected freedom to bite off Vann Jeger’s leg, but he’d always had an excellent sense for danger, and at this point, his instincts were certain that the fjord spirit was no longer the greatest threat. So, though it went against years of training, Justin turned away from his enemy and looked up.

  And up.

  And up.

  Well, at least there was nothing wrong with his instincts.

  Like everyone on the planet who’d paid any attention to the news in the last decade, Justin knew what Algonquin’s leviathan looked like. He didn’t know where it came from or what it was, no one did, but he could recognize it when he saw it. But even though his brain technically had a name for what his eyes were seeing, comprehension did not follow. There simply weren’t words big enough for the shadow towering over the meadow like a small mountain.

  Funny enough, his first thought was that the whale song comparison had been unexpectedly accurate. The giant shape did look kind of like a bizarre, deep-water fish. Its skin was mottled brown and black, like an eel’s, and it crawled on tentacles like an octopus. If it had a mouth or eyes, Justin couldn’t find them, but though it looked like it belonged in some deep, dark place, it didn’t seem to mind the sunlight or the dry land. It actually seemed to be floating over the grass with a grace that belied its bulk, its tentacles waving in a mesmerizing dance, like a cobra shifting before it struck its prey. Even Justin, who should have known better, was transfixed, staring up at the leviathan in horrified wonder when the strange, alien song came rumbling through the ground again, and Vann Jeger threw down his ax with a snarl.

  “It seems you have received a temporary stay of execution,” he said, reaching out to yank the myriad spears out of Justin’s body with a violent jerk. “It will not be a long one, I promise.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Justin said, grinning through the pain at his enemy’s discomfort. “Looks like you’ve just been put in your place, water spirit.”

  Vann Jeger’s only answer to that was a sneer as he pulled the last of the spears out of Justin’s body. Before the dragon could even try to slip away, though, Vann Jeger scooped up his discarded ax and swung it like a golf club, slamming the blunt side of the shaft down on Justin’s skull. Magic followed the strike like a lungful of cold seawater, and Justin’s mind went blank.

  And a mile away, on the edge of Reclamation Land, as close as she could get to the fence without alerting their enemy, Chelsie drew her sword with a vile curse, cutting a hole through the world back to Heartstriker Mountain to deliver the bad news to her mother.

  Chapter 13

  Justin woke to cold water splashing over his head.

  He came to with a start, opening his mouth to bite whoever would dare only to find that he couldn’t. He was back in his human shape, dressed in what looked like spare medical scrubs and bound on his knees to a dam
p stone floor with chains large enough to hold an ocean liner. He couldn’t even turn his head thanks to the metal cage that had been fitted over his skull, its lower half and sides sharpened so that if he opened his mouth more than it took to speak softly, he’d slice his jaw open.

  Another time, the overkill security would have struck him as a sign of respect. Now, though, the unwelcome obstacle was nothing but an annoyance. Every muscle in his body hurt, and his burned throat was spasming in pain. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep, but that was impossible thanks to the magic.

  Strange, cold power covered him like tar inside and out. Even if he hadn’t used up all his fire on Vann Jeger, he couldn’t have gotten enough out to light a candle under these conditions. As it was, he could barely lift his head, but considering he’d been one ax blow away from losing it, Justin supposed he should count this as a step forward. Quitting was for pathetic dragons who’d lost their ambition, anyway, and so, summoning up all his pride, Justin forced his throbbing head up to take stock of his situation.

  He was in what appeared to be an underwater cavern. An obviously fake one since Justin was fairly certain natural caverns didn’t have tasteful recessed lighting, but it was still impressive if only for its size. The cave was as large as an aircraft hangar, though aside from the little stone island in the center where he’d been chained, it seemed to be mostly water. Lake water from the smell, which only made him more wary. So far as he could tell, though, the giant room seemed to be empty. There was no scent of Vann Jeger, and he was pretty sure he couldn’t miss the leviathan. He was wondering if this place was meant to be a prison when a voice whispered.

  “Welcome.”