by Susan Illene
“And even if they were near here…” I crossed my arms and gave him an accusing look. “They wouldn’t work with you, would they?”
“Does it matter?” His tone was implacable.
“Yes, because I still don’t think I can trust you.”
“And what would it take to earn your trust?” He took a step closer, gazing down at me. “I have not harmed you in any way and I’m willing to teach you secrets for how to kill my kind. There is as much risk in this alliance for me as there is for you.”
The top of my head barely reached his chin. Considering I was 5’4”, he had to be about six feet. I felt rather insignificant standing in front of him. Aidan wasn’t bulky, but he had a way of appearing bigger when he stood close.
I wanted to back away, but I didn’t. “Swear to me that you’ll never hurt me and that you will do whatever it takes to help me reunite with my family. That would be a start.”
He muttered something in a foreign tongue under his breath. Then he drew a dagger from his belt with a blade about six inches long. The metal was black with red veins running through it, unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
Aidan held it out to me like an offering. “Take it.”
“Okay.” Reaching out slowly, I grabbed it.
The handle was wrapped with smooth black material and fit well in my hand. I barely felt the weight of the weapon.
Aidan pulled at the laces binding his top. I blinked and almost looked away. There was something very intimate about watching him work his fingers down the vest, loosening the garment. His chest was serious eye-candy—better than any guy I’d dated.
Why couldn’t his human skin be rough and ugly, rather than smooth? I backed up a couple of steps. He was a dragon and I couldn’t let myself see him any other way—even if the package he presented was easy to look at. I might make a deal with him to train me, but that was it.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He finished unlacing the vest and set it on the hood of my truck.
“You asked for my oath. We do not give such things lightly or without sacrifice.” He took a knee and looked up at me. “Now you must cut your finger.”
“What?”
His expression was devoid of emotion. “Only enough to draw a little blood.”
His request was more than a little strange, but if it meant I could get his promise, then I’d go along with it. I aimed the tip of the dagger and cut a small slice across my left index finger.
“Give me your hand,” he ordered.
I held it out and he took it, using my finger to smear my blood across his forehead. After that, Aidan held my hand between his palms in front of his face.
“In the name of Zorya,” he said in a reverent tone. “I swear that I will never harm this woman and I will do my best to assist her in reuniting with her family after she has helped my clan take control of this region.”
He let go of my hand.
“Who is Zorya?” I asked.
Aidan’s brows knitted. “The dragon goddess. She was the first of our kind who we’ve worshiped since she ascended many thousands of years ago. I can assure you no dragon would swear on Zorya’s name unless he plans never to break his oath.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t considered they might have their own religion. “Are we done then?”
“No, there is more.”
I stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“For an oath to be binding there must be a show of faith and trust.” He hadn’t moved from his position on the ground.
“What do we do now?” I asked, suspecting I wouldn’t like it.
He dropped his arms to his sides. “You will use my dagger to strike me and I may not defend myself.”
“Like a cut?”
“No.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “It must be much deeper than that.”
“But that’s barbaric!”
He grunted. “It is dragon tradition.”
Great, I had to follow his brutal way of doing things. “How vulnerable are you in this form? Where should I aim?”
I didn’t want to hurt him and yet some primal part of me did want exactly that. Was the dragon slayer part of me surfacing? In his human form, he didn’t trigger my instincts as much, but they weren’t gone entirely. I could still see him as the enemy if I stared into his animalistic eyes. That brought out the urge to hurt him in any way I could.
Aidan hadn’t moved a muscle, but he was watching my face closely. I could have sworn he knew what I was thinking. “Avoid my neck. I can handle a strike in my gut and heal from it within a few days.”
My hands tightened on the hilt. “Are you sure?”
“Get it over with, slayer, before I change my mind,” he growled.
I eyed his stomach. It was flat and lined with muscle. If he’d been human I would have been tempted to touch him instead of stab him—but he wasn’t. I’d seen his true form. He only took human shape for convenience. As soon as he left he’d go back to being a big red dragon, a monster capable of killing people. Thinking of him that way helped.
Still, I hesitated. It was a lot easier to attack someone when they were trying to kill you. He kneeled there, waiting for me to hurt him. There was no indication he’d fight back.
The dagger shook in my hand. He saw it and his eyes blazed. Aidan let out a roar, releasing a stream of fire that singed my tank top. It left a hole right where my belly button was located.
“Asshole, I liked this shirt.”
Without thinking, I grabbed his shoulder and shoved the blade into his stomach. He grunted as I slid it into him almost to the hilt. Then I pulled it back out and stepped away. He leaned forward and put his hands on the ground in front of him, breathing through the pain. Blood flowed freely from his wound.
Despite his baiting me and knowing he was a dragon, I felt guilty over what I’d done. I went to my truck and dug through one of my bags for a t-shirt. The black one I found was worn and faded, but clean. I walked back toward Aidan with it.
“Here.” I kneeled down next to him.
He glanced at me. “I will be fine in a few moments.”
“Sure, but I imagine blood loss isn’t much easier among your kind than it is with ours.” I shifted closer and pressed the shirt to his wound. “Let me help.”
He let out a snort. “This isn’t part of the ritual.”
“How many oaths have you sworn to dragon slayers?” I asked.
“None.”
“Then who’s to say what’s the right or wrong way for us to go about this? Now hold the cloth to your stomach as hard as you can,” I ordered. “It will help stem the flow of blood.”
He did as I asked, but only for a few minutes before staggering up to his feet. When he pulled the cloth away, I was surprised to see the blood already congealing around the wound. Dragons really did have speedy healing.
Seeing my expression, Aidan explained. “Our skin can knit back together quickly. It’s the inside that will take a few days. You struck deep.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but I was just doing what you told me to do.”
“And you did well,” he said, giving me a respectful nod. “I’d worried you’d give it a half-hearted attempt that would not do the oath justice. Now I will not feel as guilty when I return the favor.”
I took a step back, still gripping the dagger. “What do you mean?”
“Not now, but someday when you’re stronger and more resilient.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to take a wound like that and not die from it.” I looked down at his stomach. “At least, not without a working hospital to go to right afterward.”
Last I’d heard on the radio, the medical facilities in Norman were overcapacity and not taking any more patients. That was days ago. Who knew what kind of shape they were in now with no new supplies and limited fuel for their generators?
Aidan gave me an amused look. “If you pass the dragon slayer ritual, your healing abilities will become as strong as min
e. I won’t ask for your oath until then.”
“That’s very generous of you,” I said, sarcasm in my voice.
“I’d like my dagger back now.”
I glanced down and realized I was holding it up in front of me. Flipping it around to hilt-first, I gave it back to him. He handed over my shirt. It was covered in blood, but I planned to keep it. Proof that he’d given his oath and had to uphold it.
“Now it’s time to begin your training.”
“But you’re wounded,” I argued.
“There’s still plenty of daylight left and I don’t plan to waste it.”
Chapter 18
Bailey
A sword appeared in Aidan’s hand—from thin air.
“Take this,” he ordered
“Where did that come from?” I asked, frowning at it.
And how in the heck had he produced a three-foot sword from nowhere? It had the same black metal as the dagger he’d let me use earlier. When this blade reflected the sunlight, though, it shined like silver. How strange.
“We are able to keep a few items in shiggara, such as weapons and clothing. I can draw the items out as needed. Dragons have little magic, but accessing shiggara is one of the few abilities we gain when we become old enough to shape-shift.”
I took hold of the sword. “So shiggara is like a place of stasis where you can store things?”
“You could say that.”
“This is a one-handed blade,” I said, testing its weight. One of my step-brothers collected swords and loved to show me the different ones he got. “Wouldn’t it be better to use a two-handed sword against a dragon?”
Aidan came to my side and guided my arm, showing me how he wanted me to hold it. “The best weapon is the one you can use most effectively. That varies with each person. You will learn how to use them all before selecting the one you prefer. It is to your advantage to be versatile in battle.”
“What about the metal? I’ve never seen anything like this before.” It sort of reminded me of obsidian, except for the deep red veins.
“We call it zaphiriam. The ore can be mined in the mountains there.” Aidan gestured to the south where the peaks rose above the trees. “But it is a long and complicated process to make it into a strong weapon that cannot be burned by dragon fire.”
“Do I get to keep this?” I asked, looking up at him hopefully.
Aidan’s expression turned amused. “You can’t train properly without it. Considering your size, I brought this one just for you.”
Wow. He’d been confident I’d show up. Not that I was complaining if I got a fireproof sword out of the deal. “Okay, what comes first?”
“Strength and muscle memory exercises.” He took hold of my wrist. “Cut the sword forward, then bring it back.”
For the first couple of times, he continued to hold onto me until he was satisfied with my form. There was nothing intimate about it. Aidan was surprisingly professional when he went into instructor mode. I found it easy to cut down, but more difficult to bring the blade back up. The zaphiriam sword wasn’t heavy. My muscles just weren’t used to the maneuver.
“Don’t twist,” he instructed. “Keep the blade straight.”
“Like this?”
He nodded, stepping back. “Now do it a hundred more times.”
I blew out a breath and continued. The sword probably didn’t weigh more than six or seven pounds, but the longer I held it the heavier it felt. My forearm was already tiring before I hit fifty. Such a simple maneuver took a lot more strength than I would have guessed.
“Now, switch to the other hand and do a hundred more,” he said when I’d finished my count.
I glanced over at him where he was leaning against a tree. He’d moved over there while I practiced. His face was a little ashen, probably from blood loss.
“I’m training both hands?” I asked.
“Yes. It would be foolish not to.”
I began the cutting motions again, using my left hand this time. It grew tired faster than my other one had. By seventy I was in pure agony.
He let out a loud sigh. “I can see getting you into shape is going to take longer than expected. You’re as weak as a hatchling.”
“That isn’t funny.” I shot him a dark look. “I was in better shape when I lived on the ranch, but other than jogging a few times a week I haven’t done much since going to college.”
There was no sympathy in his eyes. “I’ve never seen a dragon slayer in worse physical condition. I’m almost embarrassed for your kind and believe me—that’s difficult to say. I’m not particularly fond of slayers.”
“I can see this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
His eyes narrowed, but I ignored him. I forced myself to finish the cuts, pushing past the pain. It irked me that he could think of me as weak. If I was going to commit to being a dragon slayer, then I wanted to be a good one. I’d just have to train harder and prove I could handle it.
“What now?” I asked after I finished.
“Switch back to your right hand and make circles with the tip. Small ones first, then larger, then smaller again. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
I stretched my arm for a minute before beginning. It was a different motion. At first it didn’t seem too bad, but after a couple minutes I began wearing down again.
“Wax on, wax off,” I muttered under my breath.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.”
My muscles were beginning to burn, but I continued the circles with relentless determination. I could handle this. Aidan would not break me with a couple of simple exercises.
“Explain this wax thing to me,” he demanded.
Ugh, I should have kept my mouth shut.
“It’s from a movie. There’s this young kid who wants to learn martial arts—you know, physical fighting. He convinces this old guy to teach him, but at first all he gets to do is wax cars. Which is basically shining them with cloth by making circles. The kid gets frustrated after a while because he’s not learning any actual fighting moves. Then his instructor shows him how all the waxing was a form of muscle conditioning, and he was learning a defensive move the whole time. That’s sort of what you’re having me do now—except with a weapon instead.”
Aidan was silent for a minute. “Perhaps I should have you bring some of this wax back next time.”
“I’m not shining cars during an apocalypse.”
He stretched his legs. “The world is not ending, it’s simply changing.”
My circles slowed and my arm began to droop. No matter how hard I tried to keep it up, it wouldn’t cooperate. How much time had passed since he had me start?
“I don’t suppose you have water in your shiggara, do you?” Sweat poured off me and my mouth felt completely dry.
“Switch to your other arm. When you finish practicing the circles, I will give you water.”
The damn tyrant—didn’t he feel how hot it was outside? I desperately wanted water right then, but I didn’t argue. Something told me no amount of begging would help and might make me look that much weaker in his eyes. I switched arms and started the circles again.
“How old were you when you began training with a sword?” I asked.
“My cousin, Donar, and I began secretly practicing together when we were fourteen. It wasn’t until we were twenty that we began training in earnest.”
I worked the sword into bigger circles. “Why bother? Wouldn’t it be better just to fight in your dragon form?”
“Our ability to shift begins between age seven to ten, but it isn’t until we are fully grown around twenty-five that we gain full control of both forms and master the ability to fly. Until then, we’re more vulnerable and must learn to fight by all methods to survive. It is also useful to keep up our sword training when we’re older in case we are caught out in our human bodies and cannot shift in time.”
“Wait.�
� I shifted my stance so that I could see him better. “How long do your kind live? And how old are you?”
Amusement lit in his eyes. “I’ve lived for two hundred and fifteen years and I’m considered young among my race. There are some in my clan who were born more than a millennium ago. The oldest I’ve known didn’t pass until he was sixteen hundred years old. The pure dragons can live even longer.”
“Huh. I can’t imagine living that long.” I dragged my left arm back up where it had been sinking. Listening to him had distracted me.
“If you pass the slayer ritual, you won’t age anymore.”
I dropped my sword arm. “What?”
“The only method of death left to you will be in battle.” He gave me a pointed look. “Get your arm back up.”
I started the circles again. “How long does the average slayer live?”
“Few make it past thirty, but the oldest I’ve known made it to sixty.” Aidan shrugged. “He was feared by all dragons. It took four of us to kill him.”
“You helped?” I glared at him.
“He killed one of my uncles. Of course, I helped.”
I supposed I couldn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t exactly comfort me to know I was being trained by a guy who had killed one of my kind.
“You have my oath I will not do the same to you—as long as you hold your end of our bargain.”
“I’ll probably still die young,” I said, sadness weighing me down. My arm grew so weak I couldn’t keep it up high anymore. Was I doomed before I even started?
“This is true,” Aidan agreed. “But at least you’ll die in battle. It is the best kind of death.”
“Well, that’s a comfort.”
“You can stop now.” He came toward me, holding a canteen of water.
I traded the sword for it and took several gulps. The water was clean and surprisingly cool. I slowed my drinking down, not wanting to make myself sick. When I was done Aidan took the canteen back from me. It disappeared a moment after it reached his hands—off to shiggara.
“Now we will work on your stance. Put your feet shoulder-width apart and then bring your right leg back.” He demonstrated how to do it.
I followed his directions. “Okay.”
