by Ann Gimpel
Nidhogg had left a while ago to bring them fresh meat. She heard him lumber through the outer cave system. Good. She was hungry. He came into view carrying a dead goat in his mouth and another under one foreleg. He dropped the one in his mouth. The younglings converged on it. They made adorable hissing noises as they tore at the hot meat.
“This one is for us.” He bit off a chunk and handed it to her. “I will hunt more once the sun goes down. Lemurians are close. They can smell our brood and are probably beside themselves with rage because they missed a dragon clutch.”
Dewi tore into the meat and then handed it back to him. “How did you know fire would resurrect our brood?”
He ripped off another hunk of meat and chewed thoughtfully. “I wasn’t absolutely certain. Fire was the way of our original birthing, though.” He shrugged, his scales clanking together. “We had nothing to lose, my dear, and everything to gain. We have little enough time before the dark engages us in a full scale onslaught.”
Maternal protectiveness surged. “Surely you aren’t considering having our children fight anyone.”
“Once their scales harden in a month, they will be as lethal as you or I. Perhaps more so since they are smaller and more maneuverable.” Steam puffed from his mouth. “You haven’t been outside. The place reeks of Lemurians. I think I may have smelled one of the dark gods, too.”
The air off to one side took on a shimmery hue. Bran stepped from a portal. His copper eyes widened and he raced forward. “Young dragons.” He bent to stroke one. It turned from its meal for long enough to bite his finger. “Feisty.” He straightened and looked from Dewi to Nidhogg. “These must be from the last batch of eggs. How in the goddess’s name—”
“It’s a long story,” Nidhogg said. “I have an extensive memory, and I got lucky. This isn’t a social call. Tell us why you are here.”
“The council meets in two hours’ time. We would have you in attendance.”
Dewi shook her head. “We cannot leave our brood. Do you suppose the council could meet here?”
Bran smiled warmly, lighting his face from within. “I doona see why not. I’ll get moving and let everyone know.”
Dewi heard him murmur half to himself as his body disappeared from sight. “Dragons. Mayhap we shall win this war after all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Aislinn stepped into Dewi’s cave with Rune by her side. Bran had stopped by long enough to tell them about the change of venue for the council meeting—and the baby dragons. “Where do you suppose everyone is?” She blinked to get her eyes accustomed to the dim light of the cave.
Fionn closed off his working and their portal winked out. “I doona know, but we are a shade early. Ye couldna wait to come once ye heard of the younglings, especially after I shared Dewi’s sad story.”
Aislinn bit back a sharp retort. She didn’t fully understand why the prospect of baby anythings was so appealing. Maybe it’s because new life means hope some of us will survive.
Or maybe it’s because I wanted to share Dewi’s joy. Aislinn had been horrified when Fionn told her how the dragon had gambled and lost everything. No wonder she had such harsh, bitter edges. It’s a good lesson to me that I should never judge others.
“Doona be hard on yourself, mo croi—”
“Out of my head. Out. Out. Out.” She flapped her hands at him.
“I want to see the babies, too.” Bella launched herself from Fionn’s shoulder and flew deeper into the cave system.
Aislinn strode after her, tripped over a good-sized rock, and called her mage light into being. Her eyes widened. “Surely all this can’t be gold.” She pointed at piles of shiny coins, bars, and nuggets.
Fionn chuckled. “And what else would it be? They are dragons, after all. ’Tis their hoard. I wouldna be surprised to find gemstones amongst the mix.”
She bent to touch a nugget as big as her fist, straightened, and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Dewi.”
“Keep coming. You have to pass through three large caverns. We are in the last one.”
Rune padded ahead of her. She called him back. “There’s no love lost between you and Dewi. Best let me go first.”
“Surely she wouldn’t think I’d be a threat to her pups.” The wolf sounded hurt.
Aislinn switched to mind speech through the Hunter bond. “Not if she was thinking clearly, but new mothers sometimes don’t.”
A narrowed portion of tunnel opened up. Aislinn stopped dead and clasped her hands together, buffeted by amazement. Dewi was crouched on the floor, with younglings racing around her. Gwydion, who’d left before them so he could bring more fresh meat, hunkered next to a goat carcass. The small dragons ran up and down his robes and over his lap to get from their mother to the carcass. A red one sat in his hand, practically nose to nose with him, and the master enchanter crooned to it in Gaelic.
Aislinn stepped to Dewi’s side. “They’re wonderful. And big. I had no idea dragon eggs were large enough to hatch something this size.” The black youngling attacked her pants and pulled itself toward her torso with sharp little talons. “May I touch him?”
“Of course. Young dragons grow very fast. They are twice the size they were when they hatched, and it’s only been a couple of hours. So long as we give them as much fresh meat as they can eat, they should grow to half my size their first month.”
“What are their names?”
Dewi huffed. “They will name themselves when the time is right.”
Aislinn reached down. The small dragon curled talons around her fingers and crawled into her hands. His tail spilled over the edge. He reared on his haunches; a flurry of question words like who and what tapped the edges of her mind. Maternal protectiveness rushed through her, followed by deep grief for her own child. “He’s trying to talk to me. Can they talk so young?”
“Of course. They can talk while still in the shell.” Dewi paused. “I am not certain, but at least some of them should be linked to the MacLochlainn just as I am.”
“Pretty.” The dragon pulled a lock of her hair. “Just like fire.”
She focused on the small creature in her hands. “Thank you.”
“What is that?”
It took Aislinn a moment to understand the youngling’s whirling eyes were focused on Rune. “A wolf that is bound to me.” She glanced at Dewi. “May I? Rune won’t hurt him.”
Steam boiled from Dewi’s mouth. “Yes. I am over whatever animosity I felt for your bond animal.” She turned her head, and steam enveloped Aislinn. “How could I be anything other than joyous today?”
“Thanks, Dewi. You’ll have to tell me how you managed to hatch them after so long. Bran tried to explain, but it didn’t sound like he really understood.” Aislinn bent slightly so the baby dragon and Rune were snout to snout.
“Thank you.” Rune inclined his head toward Dewi. “The truce extends to both sides.”
The youngling touched the wolf’s fur. “Where are your scales?”
Rune switched to mind speech. “I don’t have scales, little one. Few creatures do. You are one of the lucky ones.”
The little dragon preened in Aislinn’s hands and then leapt to Rune’s back. “I like it here.”
Aislinn straightened and looked around. Fionn had settled next to Gwydion. Both Celts were stroking dragons. It seemed as private a moment as she was likely to get, so she sidled close to Dewi. “Fionn told me about the choice you made. It must have been incredibly lonely and difficult all those hundreds of years without either your children or your mate. I’m sorry—”
“Thank you, Daughter. You needn’t say more, but your sentiments are appreciated.” Dewi bent close and puffed more steam around Aislinn.
When she could see again, Aislinn asked, “Where’s Nidhogg?”
“Coming.” Heavy footsteps followed his voice. “I hadn’t planned to hunt until after dark, but I wasn’t certain when everyone would arrive, and the little ones were hungry. Hmph. Could have saved myself the troub
le. The outer cave is filling with Celts, and it seems they’ve all brought food for my brood.”
“Our brood,” Dewi corrected him.
The black dragon lumbered into the room and dropped a sheep carcass next to Gwydion’s goat. He picked up the remains from their earlier meal and tossed it to one side. Nidhogg chortled; steam rose from his nostrils. “At this rate, we’ll need to excavate another cavern just for bones.”
“Where is everyone?” Aislinn craned her neck around.
“I told the Celts to stay in the first cavern. It’s largest,” Nidhogg replied.
Fionn pushed to his feet. He picked his way carefully over to Aislinn and took her arm. “Shall we? There are many ye have yet to meet.”
“I don’t know.” She tapped Dewi’s side. “Do you need me to stay in here and babysit?”
“Thank you for offering, but no. You run along. The younglings will follow after us. Nidhogg said there’s plenty of meat out there.” She snorted. “It doesn’t take much to keep them happy at this age. So long as they’re eating, they stay out of trouble.”
Aislinn bit her lower lip. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting a roomful of potentially hostile Celtic gods.
Gwydion slipped past her and Fionn. “Doona fash, lass, I’ll not let them carp at you. At least not too much.”
“Besides”—Fionn tugged her toward the rounded opening leading to the tunnel to the next cavern—“most will be in an excellent mood once the younglings race in. Nothing like a good omen.”
“Tell me.” She fell into step next to him. “Everyone’s been nattering away about Dewi’s brood bringing hope. What’s that all about?”
“I doona have time for the whole legend now, but the short version is no matter how much blood spills on Earth, the return of dragons signals a promise of better days to come. We may still see much carnage, but with dragons fighting by our side, we should turn a corner soon and reclaim Earth for ourselves.”
“So they’re kind of like Hope in Pandora ’s Box?”
He turned his head and smiled. “Aye, lass. Ye understand. Even more than that, though, dragons have a direct connection with the earth’s magnetism and healing waters. Because of that, they have a strong influence over how cosmic forces flow through and influence the land.”
She rolled her eyes. “Who would have guessed? Apparently Mother didn’t know about that legend. Dewi annoyed the crap out of her.”
Fionn grunted. “Tara fled Ireland because the dragon had all the subtlety of a steam engine. Remember, as far as she was concerned, your mother belonged to her.”
Aislinn squeezed his hand. Fionn was right. Dewi was about as understated as a sledgehammer. A giggle threatened to erupt. She swallowed it. Maybe if she kept a low profile, no one at the council meeting would notice her. Yeah, fat chance of that.
The murmur of Gaelic got louder. She groaned inwardly and hoped the discussion wouldn’t take place in her mother’s tongue. While she could follow if they spoke slowly, she’d need Fionn to translate if the discussion got heated, which it was sure to do. She couldn’t imagine a room full of Celtic gods agreeing easily on anything.
Rune caught up to her. The little black dragon was still on his back. “Good job.” She patted Rune’s head. “Maybe when he grows up, he’ll let you ride him.”
“Very funny,” the wolf shot back and pulled ahead.
A collective gasp surged from the unseen crowd. She heard the Gaelic word for dragon—arach—and the one for wolf—cú faoil. Probably as good a time as any to show myself. She straightened her shoulders and walked into the last cavern. It was so bright from multiple mage lights, she shielded her eyes with a hand.
A harsh voice asked if it were her wolf in Gaelic. “Yes, he is mine through the Hunter bond.” She answered in English and made her voice loud enough to carry. Low profile be damned. She’d show this crew she wasn’t about to be bullied.
“There’s my girl,” Fionn murmured low into her ear.
“Well,” she turned her head and whispered back, “it kept the Lemurians off my back. It ought to work with these bozos.”
Rune, small dragon in tow, was making the rounds. The Celts seemed nearly as entranced with him as they were with the two-foot-long black dragon. A flurry of claws over rock sounded behind her, and the seven other baby dragons piled forward. She heard their mind voices filled with curiosity about visitors and food. Aislinn stepped aside to let them pass, followed by Dewi and Nidhogg.
Fionn leaned toward her, grinning. “They’re impossible not to like.”
“No kidding. They’re all the best things about babies rolled into one: curiosity, innocence, belief everybody loves them.”
“Doona mistake them, leannán. They can be quite aggressive, even at this tender age. And they are verra canny at sorting out friend from foe.”
“How come you know so much about dragons? These have to be the very first younglings you’ve seen.”
“Aye, they are, but I’ve read a lot of history. Dragons have always held a fascination for me. Dewi and I got close once she was certain both Nidhogg and her clutch were lost to her because she needed someone to talk with.”
No wonder she wanted to hang out in my body while he and I made love. Aislinn did her best to shield her mind. For once, it seemed Fionn was elsewhere, because he didn’t react to her thoughts.
A muted boom sounded from one end of the crowded room. Aislinn jolted and snapped her head toward the noise. She scanned the sixty or so Celts for the source of the noise, and her gaze landed on Gwydion. His staff was raised; light streamed from it. “I call this council session to order,” he said first in Gaelic, then in English. “We have a guest amongst us today, other than the charming dragon younglings, that is.” He lowered his staff. When he drew it upright again, a green dragon clung to its rich carving and made its way to his shoulder. “So, please translate your comments, or simply speak English. We all understand it.”
“’Tis a MacLochlainn,” someone muttered.
“Aye, I smell her blood. Why canna she speak Gaelic? Her mother was from these parts.”
“Tara raised me in the United States. She taught me a little Gaelic, but there wasn’t anyone else to practice it with. I will work at learning your language.”
Fionn wove his arm around her waist and tightened it.
“The business of the day is to craft our war strategy,” Gwydion spoke sharply, “not to bemoan a lack of linguistic skills.”
“Aye, agreed,” a voice shouted.
“The new dragons change everything,” someone else called out. “How long afore they will be large enough to fight for us, Dewi?”
“One month,” Nidhogg answered.
“Ye are returned.” A woman dressed in flowing blue robes strode forward and stopped a foot from Nidhogg. She inclined her head. “I would know how this has come to be. We thought ye were dead.”
Dewi moved forward. “I was on Perrikus’s border world, saw the opportunity, and rescued him. The details are best saved for another day. We have more pressing matters to discuss.” A small gout of flame rose from her nostrils. “As I suspected, my attempt worked this time because I had help to divert the dark ones.”
“Enough, Dewi,” Nidhogg said from behind her.
“I wasn’t going to cast stones,” she protested.
“I see,” the woman in blue robes cut in smoothly. “’Tis glad I am ye are returned to us.” She bowed to Nidhogg again. “And gladder still to see your brood.”
“Thank you.” Nidhogg pointed a taloned foreleg at Gwydion. “Proceed.”
“I am open to discussion on this point”—the master enchanter picked up Nidhogg’s prompt—“but it seems to me our primary task is to stall the war until the young dragons reach maturity.”
“And how do ye propose to manage that?” A tall, thin Celt with dark hair that fell to his waist stepped forward. “Lemurians are arriving in droves. I dinna know there were so many on Earth.”
That’s because t
hey’ve all been hiding out in Taltos. Aislinn kept her thoughts private. She wondered what else the Celts didn’t know about the Old Ones. Not that she knew everything, but her proximity to them for three years had yielded a bevy of information.
“I am certain the Old Ones are aware the brood has hatched.” Arawn stepped from a shadowed alcove.
“Aye, and are castigating themselves for not destroying the eggs,” Bran added. “Goddess knows they had enough time.”
“They may not be so quick to attack,” the Celt with long dark hair said thoughtfully, “in light of there being two dragons that will fight to the death for their brood. And all of us, of course. Plus, I made a point of alerting the Sidhe and fae.”
“What about the other elder creatures?” Gwydion asked.
“Not yet.”
Should I? Aislinn clamped her jaws together. Once she jumped into the fray, there’d be no way to back out unless the Celts told her to keep her mouth shut. She twisted out from under Fionn’s grip on her and walked forward briskly. “May I have permission to speak?”
Gwydion furled his brows. “Aye, lass.”
“She isna part of our council,” the woman in blue robes protested. “She has no right to speak here. Besides, ’tis not her battle.”
“Oh, really?” Aislinn set her hands on her hips and glared. “Seems to me it’s everyone’s battle. If we lose Earth to the dark, none of us will have a place to live. By the way, who are you?”
“Andraste.”
“No wonder,” Aislinn cut in before the robed woman could say more. “Goddess of victory. It’s not surprising you wouldn’t want me, a mere human, at your war council.”
The woman raised blonde brows in her ageless face. “Who are you to speak thus to me?”
