Dragon Fury: Highland Fantasy Romance (Dragon Lore Book 5)

by Ann Gimpel

  “What have ye tried?” Aegir asked.

  “Damn near everything.” The Shifter blew out a noisy breath. “The main battle is half a league distant. We have to get there, but we can’t leave that hole open. If we do, it’s like offering Arcadia to the enemy. You two were the last to show up in this spot. Arcadia led you here for a reason. Something about our combined magic will blow up that gateway.”

  “I hope ye’re right.” Aegir clapped the other man across the shoulders.

  “Makes two of us,” the Shifter retorted.

  Raene twisted her head from side to side. For now, the flood of wickedness had at least slowed down. The Shifters, maybe thirty, all dressed similarly in brown hunting leathers, killed with a chilly precision and were making progress holding the clearing. It was as good an opportunity as they’d ever have to deal with the source of the fell creatures.

  They might not get another chance. More things like the smoking ruin a few meters away might march through, and they were damned difficult to obliterate. A chill tripped down her spine. Done searching the clearing, she ignored the worry seeping through her. Bodies might be concealed in the woods, but, at least so far, the only dead were demonkind.

  What had the brown-haired Shifter said? Something about the main battle being elsewhere. They had to get there, but first, they needed to address the portal that seemingly led right into Hell. As she watched, half a dozen spiderlike things popped through. Five times as big as the largest tarantula, they sidled forward and back on their insectoid legs. Unlike spiders, they had tails dribbling with orange venom.

  She knew to stay away from their rear ends without being told.

  “Oh for Christ fucking sake,” Gerald muttered. He sent a swath of blinding red light. When it cleared, four of the spiders had exploded leaving noxious, sticky heaps of grisly protoplasm.

  If she hadn’t loved cutting up things in biology class, she might have vomited.

  “I’ve got ’em.” The blonde Shifter sent her own blast of magic at the remaining spiders. One was cleaved in half. The other scuttled for the woods, barely making it.

  “Let it go,” Gerald told her.

  “Hurry,” she urged. “If those fuckers keep us on the defensive, we’ll never get out of here.”

  Aegir and Raene moved nearer the maw disgorging one threat after another. The two Shifters flanked them. “Careful,” Gerald warned. “One of us tried to probe it with magic when we first got here. It sucked him inside, and he never returned.”

  “Good to know,” Aegir growled. “If we canna test it, how can we determine what will defeat it?”

  “Same problem we had,” the blonde muttered. Something with wings and a long sharp beak swooped toward them. She dragged an arrow from the quiver she carried across one shoulder, notched it in her bow, and shot it out of the sky.

  “You’re a good shot,” Raene observed and looked beyond the dirt streaking the woman’s face, almost certain she was the same Shifter from the Druids’ gathering. “Delia?”

  “Yeah. It’s me. Thanks. Arrows conserve my magic. It goes farther if I’m not using it constantly.”

  Raene noticed an empty spot off to the side of the gateway. She skirted closer, analyzing the border rather than the gateway itself for weaknesses. At first, she didn’t see anything useful, but something wriggled at the edge of her visual field. She repositioned herself, stepping over and around creatures she didn’t recognize. Once this was over, the first thing she’d do was locate a mystical library where she could read up on Wicked Monsters 101.

  Assuming she survived.

  She tilted her head a bit more. There. If she held a particular angle, she saw something like a snake—or maybe it wasn’t anything other than fat black rope. Regardless, it had sewn the portal into something. It wound up and over and through the edge of the thing, extending all the way around the gash.

  She’d never considered air having anything to grab onto, but this was Arcadia. Perhaps its atmosphere was different. “Come here,” she called, hoping Aegir would hear her.

  He came at a run, followed by Gerald. Aegir had crafted a rough scabbard, and the sword hung from his waist.

  “What is it, lass?”

  “Stand next to me,” she instructed. “And examine the portal.” She stopped there, not wanting to insert ideas in case she’d been hallucinating. It was possible she’d added a layer of wishful thinking to whatever lay in front of her. She wanted to obliterate the entry point from Hell as much as she’d ever wanted anything.

  Aegir was taller than she was. He altered his vantage point twice before he said. “Aye. I see it.”

  “As do I.” Gerald’s tone was far less jubilant.

  “Not a simple matter of snipping through it, eh?” Aegir asked.

  “It’s a demon shapeshifter,” Gerald grunted. “Right now, it looks like a snake, but it can take infinite forms. It’s difficult to see clearly, but there might be more than one.”

  Delia sidled close with her bow. “Damn it. Nope. Only one of the bastards. It’s not a shapeshifter, but Uroborus. And here I was thinking we were making progress. How in the goddess’s name do we kill it?”

  “We don’t,” Gerald growled, sounding more like a wolf than a bear.

  “Could the bunch of you hurry it up?” a black-haired Shifter called from where he stood in the center of a pile of dead demonspawn.

  “Trying,” Raene yelled back and culled through her brain for what she knew about the serpent who ate its own tail, thus forming a symbol of everlasting something-or-other.

  “So long as it’s connected, we’ll never close the portal,” she said. “How can we lure it to let go of its tail?”

  “The bigger question is how did it end up one of Satan’s minions?” Aegir gritted out. “Once Uroborus was a god in his own right. Or damned close to one.”

  “You might be onto something,” Delia crowed and grabbed Raene’s hand. “Come on. In the myths I read, the snake was partial to women.”

  “What are we going to do?” Raene asked.

  “Fall on our knees.”

  “Not too close to that opening, I’m not.”

  Delia settled into a crouch far enough from the hole to appease Raene, who knelt next to her. Aegir and two more Shifters flanked them, keeping them clear of a batch of gnomes who had just marched through.

  “We’re going to pray to the wyrm,” Delia murmured. “Appeal to his godlike nature. Urge him to break free of darkness, so his loyal followers can worship him again.”

  “Does he even have any followers left?” Raene was trying to piece things together.

  “Not the point. We tell him he does. He believes it, and voila!”

  It seemed like an incredible longshot, but she didn’t have any better ideas, so she followed the wolf Shifter’s lead. Deep within a pocket, the dragon-tear ruby vibrated, but she couldn’t tell if it was approval or warning.

  “Damn, I hope this works, Delia.”

  “Call me Dee for short. You’re Raene.”

  “Good memory.”

  “Some days it’s better than others. Ready? We have to make this believable.”

  “Ready.”

  Raene listened as Dee chanted an unfamiliar prayer in English interspersed with Gaelic. She urged the serpent to return to Earth, told him he was missed, loved. That the Gnostics had adopted him as a symbol of everlasting life and how thrilled they’d be to pay homage to him again.

  Raene added to Dee’s recitation at intervals, still on her knees, head bowed. She felt bad, like she wasn’t holding up her part killing things as bodies plopped to the ground around where they knelt. Waves of sensation rolled from the ruby. Was it telling her to stop? To get back to killing things?

  Dee fell silent. Maybe she’d run out of material.

  “What now?” Raene asked softly.

  “We wait.”

  “Did he hear us?”

  Dee twisted to face her. “I’d love to say yes, but I have no idea.”


  The nearest trees burst into bloom and scattered flower petals in front of the portal. Raene swallowed shock and picked up where Dee left off, imploring the god to forsake evil and once again become the great deity he’d been in ancient Egypt and other places.

  The trees were mostly evergreens with a few aspens mixed in. They did not have flowers. Not in the world she knew.

  But white and pink and red petals kept on fluttering down until a pile half a meter deep created a swath between them and the shimmering portal. Nothing wicked had crossed its boundary in the last few minutes. Maybe, just maybe, Dee’s idea was working.

  If the god had been corrupted by Satan, it might take time for its thoughts to clear. She reached deeper, tried to actually believe their strange attempt would turn the tide in their favor. Hope pierced her, almost as painful as the monster’s claws had been when it held her suspended in the air.

  Done with tossing petals, the trees had taken to swaying, except there was no wind. A keening roar filled the clearing, growing in intensity until her ears ached. She sent magic to protect them. It helped a little. The stone in her pocket pulsed harder still.

  “Keep it up,” Delia shouted. “I don’t know what changed. Maybe it was the flower petals, but he heard us.”

  If Raene hadn’t had her gaze fixed firmly on the portal, she’d have missed the transition. One moment, it was there. The next, it imploded in on itself. A cobra-sized serpent unfurled coil after coil and glided toward them.

  “Thank you. Oh thank you.” Raene bowed her head, and the snake slithered across her shoulders before doing the same to Dee. One of the trees bent forward, offering a branch. Uroborus reached up and glided onto the proffered bough. The tree straightened, and the serpent disappeared into its foliage. The ruby shifted from pulsating to something reminiscent of a satisfied cat’s purr.

  Raene got to her feet and offered Delia a hand up. “Brilliant. That was absolutely brilliant.”

  Delia looked pleased at the compliment. “Desperate times call for desperate solutions.”

  “We need to get moving,” Gerald said.

  “What do ye know?” Aegir asked.

  “The primary battle isn’t going well. I feel it whenever one of my pack dies, and I’ve lost fifteen so far.”

  “Aw crap. Gerald. You should have said something.” Dee chided him.

  “Why? Nothing we could have done about it.”

  “Are there many splinter battles like this one?” Aegir asked.

  “I don’t believe so,” Gerald replied. “After all, there was only one serpent who could hold a gateway open. Only reason he could get a toehold here was he used to wield White Magic. Those who bonded to darkness from their inception couldn’t have managed to open and maintain a portal in Arcadia.”

  “Not yet,” Aegir muttered.

  “Yeah, not yet,” Gerald concurred, “but if Arcadia falls, all bets are off.”

  “Do ye know if the dragons have come?” Aegir asked.

  Gerald shook his head. “Not from what I can gather.”

  “We’d heard from the Druids,” Dee cut in, “that the dragons would be our allies.” She shook her head. “If they’re going to keep their promise, they’d better show up damned soon. While there’s still something left to save.”

  “They’ll be here,” Aegir said. “I secured that commitment from them.”

  Raene hoped he was right about the dragons imminent arrival. They’d won a small battle here in this clearing. Emphasis on small. Gerald and Dee set off at a lope with the other Shifters behind them. She fell in at the end of the line with Aegir next to her.

  “Rest while ye can, lass,” he said. “Conserve your magic so it can replenish. What we face next will be far worse.”

  She didn’t say anything. They’d live through this. They had to. And they’d save Arcadia. Magic couldn’t die. She wouldn’t let it. And then she felt like an idiot. Who was she? Only the smallest of magical cogs in an unimaginably huge wheel. What impact could she possibly have over the outcome of this war?

  Almost as if it were trying to answer, the ruby rocked back and forth, scattering more of its magic. Raene closed a hand around the stone and found it warm to her touch.

  Wish I understood you better.

  She waited, but the stone didn’t answer. Not in words, anyway.

  The place Uroborus had touched her tingled. Power flowed into her from the arc across her back. Along with the ruby and the god’s touch came hope and determination. The same optimism that had kindled while she knelt in front of the unnatural portal turned into an inferno.

  “We’ll come through this,” she told Aegir.

  “I hope so. I love you, lassie.” He snaked an arm around her, and they kept right on running.

  Chapter 17

  The silence of the clearing yielded to grunts, groans, shrieks, and cries as they neared the primary battle site. Aegir sorted sounds, but the characteristic bugle of dragons was absent. Damn it. Had Keene and his faction prevailed after all? He couldn’t see Tarika, a First Born, making a commitment and then welching on it, though.

  Something had happened to Raene, a subtle transformation. Before, her fear was obvious, but now courage shone from her upright shoulders and defiant expression. He was glad for her but hoped her newfound valor didn’t lead her straight into some demon’s clutches. He’d been frantic when the undead creature dug its claws into her and picked her up, intent on absorbing her essence into its own.

  If they got out of this, he’d insist on lessons in swordsmanship. And a crash course of study to teach her the various iterations of evil. His thoughts brought him up short. Was he expecting one battle after the next, forever? According to the Druids, a win now would beat darkness back for years.

  Aye, but not forever.

  He came to a halt, forcing her to stop next to him. “Hold up, lass.”

  “Why are we stopping?”

  “So we can assess what we face. And so I can try to reach Tarika with telepathy.”

  “What if she’s not close enough? What if she’s not one of the delegation they sent?”

  “We shall discover answers to both your questions soon enough.”

  “Do you think the ruby might help?” She rooted through a pocket and held it out to him. The gem gleamed invitingly.

  Aegir considered it. The dragon tear had been a gift to Raene, not to him, which meant it was matched to her energy. He closed her hand around the stone. “Thank you, but it will perform best if ye wield it.”

  She nodded and dropped her hand back into a pocket. “I’ll try to raise her too, then.”

  He held them behind the last row of trees, sensing their outrage and unrest. Plant energy was normally peaceful, soothing, but these trees were angry at the desecration of Arcadia, their land. An enormous plain spread before them. So large, he couldn’t see its far side. Hundreds of Shifters were engaged in fighting the same types of demonspawn they’d left behind.

  No dead Selkies. Not yet. Much like Gerald, he’d have felt it if any from his pod had died. He wasn’t so certain if the magical bonds had stretched to include the newcomers from Gregor’s group, though.

  “It’s overwhelming,” Raene said close to his ear. “So many dark creatures. Where do we even begin? There’s not a gateway here—not one I can see. How are all the bad things getting through?”

  “’Tis the place Arcadia lowered its barriers,” he explained. “Demonkind doona require a portal in this spot. They can waltz in.”

  He switched to telepathy. “Tarika. Are ye close?” He waited through the space of twenty breaths and tried again.

  Raene drew her brows into a thick, worried line. “She can’t hear you. I tried too, but with the same result. Nothing. I figure she’s too far away.”

  “That is one explanation. I can think of others.” He was trying to remain hopeful. They couldn’t tarry much longer on the sidelines. It didn’t take a seasoned general to understand things were going badly, and not just because he’d f
inally felt the life flicker and die in a Selkie from his pod.

  “None of it matters. Let’s go.” She tugged at his arm. “They need us out there.” She jerked her chin at the battle. The dirt ran with blood. Red, black, and other muddy colors from dead Hellspawn.

  Just as he’d sensed the trees’ unrest, he also felt Arcadia groaning beneath his boots. The land was fighting back, but it was weakening. A whispery sound caught the edges of his attention, and he turned to see Uroborus drop from a nearby branch to Raene’s shoulders where the serpent curved around her before gliding to the ground.

  She crouched and extended a hand to the snake-god. “Did you travel all this way in the treetops?”

  “Aye, little sister,” it replied in Gaelic, forked tongue flashing in and out of its mouth. “My kin will arrive verra soon.”

  Aegir knelt next to Raene intent on asking who Uroborus’s kin were. His memory of the snake-god was he traveled alone. “Thank you for—”

  “No time, Selkie king. Stand tall and fight.” In a flash of light, the snake vanished, only to reappear in the midst of the nearest conflagration. Shifters, Witches, and Druids fought two Harpies. Soul stealers. If they got close enough, they extracted your soul through your mouth and claimed your humanity, turning you into their slaves.

  Still crouched next to Raene, he kissed her gently. “Uroborus is right. It’s time.”

  Together they rose and started forward. He draped wards about them, but they were temporary. He’d have to divert power from the wards, or he wouldn’t be worth a damn fighting.

  “What’s that?” Raene tilted her head up. “The ruby is jumping about like a mad thing.”

  He focused beyond the crash and din of the fight and the screams of the dying and heard bugling. Or thought he did. It was very faint, and he might be imagining it because he wanted to hear it.

  “Do you hear it?” Raene demanded when he didn’t answer.

  “Aye. It sounds like dragons, but it makes no sense. They’d use one of their time-travel tunnels, and it would spit them out here.”