PARADOX III

by Paradox III (anthology) (lit)

  The sound of metal on metal drew her attention toward the door. It swung open and a large silhouette filled the entry.

  "On your feet," Junal's voice rang out. "We have many miles to cover."

  Fixing her face into a cool mask, Li released her grip on the blanket. Ignoring the aches and pains in her limbs, she forced herself to her feet. Stretching her stooped back, she headed for the stairs and the future that awaited her.

  * * *

  Nik's tension grew as they drew closer to Lygas. It was a safe bet that the peacekeepers had taken refuge here late last night, as the rain had threatened to wash out the road further south. They would have been hard pressed to have gotten much farther, especially if one rider was carrying Li.

  His jaw clenched. If Li was hurt, someone would pay for her pain. She was a fascinating mix of vulnerability and strength, but she was a woman nonetheless, and she should be cherished and taken care of.

  Oh boy, he had it bad...

  He motioned for his siblings to slow their mounts when they entered the village. Considering today was the first time in a while that it wasn't raining, he was surprised to see no one outside. The sun filtered through high fluffy clouds, and the streets were as silent as the dead.

  His neck prickled when they rode past darkened windows. Something wasn't quite right. His hand came to rest on the hilt of his sword. They rode toward the village square and Nik saw why the streets were empty. It appeared the entire population of Lygas was standing in the square.

  A group of peacekeepers stood near the fountain in a half circle, and in the center was Li. Nik's gaze moved over his woman, checking for any sign of obvious injuries. She still wore the gown from the ball, though it was in sorry shape. Stained with mud, the bodice was torn down the front to reveal her tattered chemise. Her face was dirty and her hair was tangled about her shoulders, but her head was high and her gaze cool. She wasn't going to give in to her nerves this time around.

  His heart swelled.

  A man stood next to her and Nik noted the thick greasy mustache. This was the one who'd taken her from Riverhaven. His sharp gaze noted the man's hand on Li's shoulder. He would pay for touching her.

  Nik reined his horse in, then slid to the ground. Not bothering to wait for his brothers, he moved along the edge of the crowd until he could hear what the kidnapper was saying.

  "...is under arrest for theft," the man was saying. "She will be returned to Graystone, where she will stand trial for her crimes."

  Ripples moved through the crowd and Li didn't flinch. Her proud gaze moved over the assemblage and she didn't show an ounce of emotion, though he knew she had to be dying inside.

  Nik began working his way through the throng toward her when a voice called out.

  "My daughter is no thief."

  He froze in disbelief as a big man pushed his way toward Li. It was the same man who'd denounced her several days earlier. The crowd parted and the man moved forward until he stood several feet away from Li and the peacekeeper. Li's expression turned shocked.

  "Release her," the big man ordered.

  "This baggage is your daughter?" The peacekeeper laughed. "She is indeed a thief; her mistress has said so. I have been ordered to return her to Graystone."

  "I am Keir, son of Ryad, this woman's father. I raised her from the time she was a babe until she left the village four seasons ago." The man's hands clenched. "I think I would know if my daughter would steal something from an employer."

  The peacekeeper's grip on Li's shoulder tightened and she winced, moving slightly as if to relieve the pressure. "I think your daughter has changed a great deal since she left your household."

  The men in black laughed and Nik gritted his teeth. What the peacekeeper accused was preposterous and Nik wasn't about to stand here and watch this roach impugn her reputation further.

  "Release her," the big man, Keir, spoke again. "I will repay you for your lost revenues."

  "I think not." The peacekeeper sneered. "Brol, Wal, Miljo, fetch our horses from the stables. We will be on our way."

  "You'll not take her," Keir spoke. "I'll not let my daughter be taken from here like some common criminal."

  "And who will stop us?" The peacekeeper gave the crowd a pointed look. "I don't see anyone lining up to offer assistance."

  Nik moved forward, breaking through the crowd to stand next to Li's father.

  "Nik," Li gasped.

  "You'll have to go through me first." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

  The peacekeeper's mouth twisted, and he gave Li a little shake. "How sweet. A prince has come to your rescue, my dear." He shoved her toward one of his men. "And now you will watch him die."

  "I don't think so, Junal." Elron Borian, the head of the peacekeepers, stepped forward. "By the power vested in me, I am revoking your shield and all powers associated with your position."

  Junal's eyes widened when he saw Elron. Nik was thankful that his father had become friends with the peacekeeper administrator. They'd made a quick stop at their headquarters before coming after Li and her kidnappers.

  "On what grounds?" Junal blustered.

  "There have been numerous complaints about your conduct in office," Elron spoke. "We will discuss them in great length after we journey to Graystone." He motioned for his men to take Junal into custody.

  Junal's eyes darted to the left, then the right. He was trapped. His gaze landed on Li and he lunged to the right, reaching for her. Without hesitation, Nik drew his sword and swung, neatly severing the man's hand.

  Junal dropped at Li's feet with a scream, and his men backed away. Li stared down at her kidnapper, horror etched on her face. She moved away, her movements wooden.

  Nik reached for her as her knees wobbled and pulled her into his arms. Thankful to have her in his arms again, he held her tightly.

  "Nik?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

  "Yes?"

  "It's not raining anymore, is it?"

  He laughed and hugged her tighter. "No, my love. The rain has stopped."

  She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm glad. I'm really glad."

  * * *

  Excerpt from "Paradox"

  by

  Rosemary Laurey and J. C. Wilder

  ISBN 1-55316-105-X

  Copyright © 2002

  FLY WITH A DRAGON

  BY ROSEMARY LAUREY

  DEDICATION

  For George

  CHAPTER ONE

  It was too late for prayers or petitions. She was alone. Deserted. The others had fled, abandoning her at the first rumble like distant thunder.

  Myfanwy gathered the last shreds of her courage and suppressed the shivers of fear. She couldn't run. Stout ropes bound her to the sacred oak. Shoulders back and her chin up, she waited for the approaching dragon. He would not see her terror. She would die with the courage befitting her father's daughter. But despite all her resolve, her mouth gaped and a soft gasp of surprise escaped her dry throat at her first sight of the ravager.

  He stood upright, not crawling like a worm but standing erect and striding toward her like a man. But one look told her he was not a man. The dragon stopped a little more than an arm's length from where she waited, bound tight and terrified.

  He was taller than her brothers and broader in the chest than her father and his pale gray skin gleamed in the twilight. He said nothing for several long minutes, just stood not quite close enough to touch her. He let his green eyes gaze from her face to her bare feet and back to meet her eyes, catching them with an intensity that made her shiver against her will.

  "So," the dragon's voice was warm, rich, and as intoxicating as a tankard of aged mead, "you are the sacrifice prepared for me."

  She held herself as tall as anyone could tied to a tree, and replied, "I am Myfanwy, daughter of-"

  "Harwed Rees, the village chieftain," he finished for her, his strange wide gray lips curling in a twisted half-smile. "Could they find no other t
o offer me, that the chief's own daughter stands here? Or did your father think to placate me with his own offspring?"

  Myfanwy suppressed a shudder. Willing herself to show no weakness to this terror, she let the rough trunk of the tree support her weakening legs. Not that she could have run if she'd chosen. They'd used the finest ropes the weavers could provide. The tight flax cut into her arms and thighs, chafing her waist through the thin shift that was all they had permitted her to wear. She was helpless, the next best thing to naked, and the scourge of the countryside stood an arm's length away.

  The scourge of the countryside smiled, his mouth wide, his eyes almost twinkling. With what? Amusement at her plight? Anticipation of his next meal? The ridges over his eyes rose as his scaly forehead rippled. He cocked his head, waiting for her answer, enjoying her discomfort-or was he? His eyes seemed almost gentle as they met hers. Impossible! This was the worm who'd ravaged their crops and slaughtered the other maidens sacrificed to his ravening.

  "You find me unsuitable, sir?"

  That truly amused him. His eyes gleamed green as spring grass in sunshine as his wide lips creased into a broad smile. "No, sweet sacrifice, I find you most...suitable...for my purpose." Myfanwy shivered, imagining his purpose. "I just wonder why your father chose to honor me with his only daughter instead of some buxom peasant."

  "I think that is partly your fault, sir."

  "Mine? How so?" The ridges over his eyes rose with the surprise in his voice. "I've been blamed for pillage, disaster, and ravage of the countryside but it was your father who chose you and your brothers who lashed you to the sacrificial oak."

  "Yes," she conceded, biting her lip as she remembered, half-wondering how he knew. Had he seen her brought out here? "But you let it be known you wanted..." she hesitated, "a virgin."

  He shrugged and rippled the great muscles beneath his gray skin. "And why not? The Dragon of Cader Bala takes no human's cast-off."

  "Yes...but when the word spread that you insisted on virgin tribute, most of the village maidens took pains to ensure they were no longer suitable for offering."

  The destroyer laughed. He threw back his great head with a wild dragon roar that had the birds in the trees deserting their roosts. As his laughter faded, he met her eyes and gave a soft chuckle that sent a warm shiver rippling across her skin. "So, my demands precipitated a great orgy. Though I doubt it was an onerous duty for the chosen swains." The ravager of the countryside stepped closer and Myfanwy caught his scent: sweet wood smoke, like an apple or pear log tossed on the fires in her father's hall. His breath came warm and sweet on her face. "And how did you escape this great fuck of defiance? Are the men of your father's demesne blind, or just plain stupid?"

  "My father and brothers were watchful. They wanted me kept pure for my husband."

  The dragon nodded. "So, some worthy warrior has been robbed of a bride." The idea amused him. She heard it in the lightness of his voice and couldn't miss the almost blue sparkle deep in his darkening green eyes. "And now, you offer me what he will never enjoy."

  A warm shiver raced from her face to between her legs. She looked up at the dragon, her face burning with flush and her body warm with a heat she only half-understood, and that half disturbed her. Greatly. Praise the Goddess the dragon had no cock-she was safe from rape. She had prepared herself to die but...Myfanwy took a deep breath, to steady her nerves as much as her racing heart. "Sir, what do you wish of me?"

  "Everything, Myfanwy," the dragon replied. As he spoke he reached out his right arm, his long gray fingers bare inches from her face. The back of his hand was crosshatched with dark lines like the veins on a leaf or the fine detail of a seashell. He flexed his fingers and the muscles showed the strength in even his littlest finger. As she watched, great claws extended, just as a cat might prepare to scratch against furniture. But this was no house cat to be gathered up and held on her lap. This was the Dragon of Cader Bala and she was his victim. She could not stop trembling.

  "Be still, I will not hurt you." She had no reason to trust his word, but looking into his deep green eyes, believe him she did.

  Even so her heartbeat sped fast as a frightened bird's as one fine-pointed claw drew a line down her shift from her neck to her waist. She felt warmth and smelled burning linen. She glanced down in horror. He'd burned her bodice apart!

  "Hush," he whispered as she opened her mouth to protest, cry, or perhaps whimper. His strong hands brushed the singed halves of her shift away from her breasts. His touch was strangely gentle, calming her fears as the pads of his fingers brushed her chest. Was it his hands or the chill breeze of the glade that turned her skin into chicken flesh? Her exposed breasts lay open to the air and the dragon's gaze. Her nipples hardened like the young acorns on the tree overhead, and the smile on his gray lips sent a fire coursing through her veins.

  "Your father flatters me with his gift," the dragon said as he cupped her shoulder with a warm hand. "And your generosity, lady, honors me. While some less virtuous maid goes to your intended groom, you offer yourself to the Dragon's embrace."

  "Hardly that! I didn't exactly tie myself to this tree!" Her fear made her say more than was wise. Would he blast her for her impudence?

  Seemingly not. At least not yet. "No, your caring and vigilant brothers did that at your father's command."

  That much was true. They'd roped her securely and then run as if the dragon were already at their heels. "What do you want?" Why ask? She'd seen the charred remains of his other victims, her cousin Bron last spring, Mary the weaver's club-footed daughter the year before.

  "I want you, Myfanwy, daughter of Harwed Rees. Will you come with me?"

  "I have a choice?" She'd have laughed if her heart wasn't tight with fear.

  He considered it a valid question. "Lady, there are always choices. I choose this valley to hunt, your father chose you as my delight. And I ask you, will you come with me?" He stepped back a stride. She missed his warmth-his closeness had protected her from the cool air. She shivered as he watched her with unblinking green eyes. Waiting. His face blank as a mask. What would he do if she refused?

  The possibility died even before her mind put words to it. If she could save her family and clan from his pestilence, so be it. "I will come with you, sir, on condition you keep your word to leave my valley unmolested for...five years." She all but gasped at her temerity! She was haggling with the scourge of the valley as if he were a wandering peddler.

  He was amused, not angered. "You would bargain with me, lady?" An eyebrow ridge rose as he spoke.

  "What have I to lose? My fate is sealed but I would save others if I can."

  He inclined his head, like a warrior acknowledging a commission. "You have the word of the Dragon of Cader Bala. Come with me freely and obey me completely and your people will be safe."

  Inexplicably, she believed him. Of course he'd said nothing about her safety. May the Goddess give her courage to face her end! The dragon didn't move. Just stood, watching her, his mouth twitching at one corner as if pleased with what he saw. She shivered, forcing herself to breathe slowly. She'd face death with the best dignity she could muster. A gray tongue slipped from between his almost-closed mouth. Slowly he licked his lips. A cold shudder took her, retching its way from her chest to her feet, pulling her brain with it, and tearing at her resolve.

  "Sir..." she began, her voice shaking and weak.

  "My name is Arragh."

  So, she was to know the name of her slayer. "Arragh," she paused, "how long before- "

  "I consume you, sweet Myfanwy, and you and I become one?" Hearing it so blandly from his lips sent a cold shiver down her spine. "Not long, lady, but not here. This is not the place."

  Her mouth dropped open at that. "But this is the appointed place." The others had all perished on the edge of the sacred grove.

  "Chosen by your people, lady, not by me." He took a half-step closer. "You consented to come with me. I choose where we go."

  So, he would ta
ke her away to slaughter her! How would he kill her? Throttle her? Rip her apart with those strong, skin-clad arms and sharp claws? Burn her alive as the others had perished? Despite her resolve, her courage faltered. The evening air on her naked breasts echoed the chill in her soul. Was this to be the end of all her hopes and dreams? Death in the hands of a dragon? If so, she begged the Goddess to help her bear it with courage.

  Arragh took another step. He was so close now, if she were unbound, she could have reached out and traced the lines of scale in his gray skin, run her fingers along the green ridges on his shoulders. If she were unbound she could have fled! But her hands were lashed together against the rough bark of the sacred oak and her legs were tied with twisted rope and even if free, how could she flee and put her life above her people's safety?

  She had put her trust in the word of a worm and would die to save others from her dreadful fate.

  Arragh's mouth twitched at one corner as he leaned forward, lips slightly parted, and brushed the fabric of her shift right off her shoulders. His touch was gentle, his skin smooth and strangely warm against hers as he drew his fingers across her chest. He said nothing, his eyes intent on her face, as his sheathed, and now blunt, claws traced a wild ribbon of sensation from one shoulder to the other, pausing in the hollow of her neck to rest his splayed hand on the flat above her breasts.

  The tree at her back prevented movement, even if she had wished to evade the confident trail of his fingers. He rested his other hand flat on the tree beside her face. She was pinioned, held fast by his presence and his will and the knots of her brothers' making. Her breath came in short, shallow spurts as he lowered his head.

  Myfanwy braced herself for the rent of his teeth in her throat, but his warm breath skimmed her bared breast, and before she thought to flinch or cry out, his tongue moistened her shivering flesh and his lips closed over her nipple, like a babe suckling his nurse.

  For a slow second, her breathing ceased and her heart skittered, then a wild warmth flooded her consciousness, like a stream in full spate, or a wild forest fire. She gasped but not from fear or pain. A wild weakness took her, and without the oak at her back and the ropes circling her waist, she'd have collapsed on the grassy turf. Arragh lifted his mouth away and the evening air gave a sudden chill to her now-moist nipple, as he moved to take her other breast.