Dragon Rider

by Kay Berrisford

  All else who try shall fail.

  It's wonderful, isn't it?"

  "No, it's not bloody wonderful!" Despite his best efforts to remain patient, Lyle's temper snapped. "I was expecting instructions, or maybe… oh, I don't know, advice concerning how not to get murdered by ruffians! What is that even supposed to mean?"

  Bella looked dismayed by his virulence, and he instantly felt guilty. "I've pondered this long and hard," she said defensively. "Actually, it took about a minute to crack the riddle initially, but in the one-hundred-and-sixty-three years since, I've not come up with a better answer."

  He sighed. "Which is?"

  "Instinct, Lyle. It can start wars, steal hearts, and lead one more or less anywhere. If you're the true Dragon Rider and you enter those caves, just follow your instincts, and you'll find the sword. From it, you will be able to draw great power—greater than any hero has ever known."

  "Oh." The "great power" part appealed, but Lyle hoped he looked as dubious as he still felt. "And if I find the sword, what do I do then? Take on this gang singlehanded and chop off their heads?" Lyle could be as up for a fight as anyone when provoked, but he rarely sought out an open battle. "Sorry, Bella, it's not my style."

  "It doesn't have to be," said Bella. "So the prophecy goes, the Dragon Rider will wield the sword to vanquish his foes—lightning will strike from its tip, and the enemy will bow their knees and quiver, all that whatnot. Perhaps you can use it to keep that gang at bay, for a while at least, but… it is solid gold." She waggled her brows and giggled. "I've never lived in the human world, but I've seen the beautiful homes they build right on the shore. If we could sell the gold, a little coastal property of our own would be the best long-term solution to all our troubles. You and your fiancé can take a cut, of course."

  It took a few fleeting heartbeats for her meaning to sink in, and then her mirth proved infectious. Lyle chuckled, and realized it was the intensity of his frown, which he now relaxed, that'd been sustaining his migraine. Perhaps Bella wasn't as ditzy as he'd imagined. He still harboured reservations about her quest, however.

  "So you want me to find this golden sword, then I get Ben to flog it in the human world, and ta-da, we're all rich," said Lyle. Bella nodded keenly. "It's a nice plan, and I'm not saying I won't do it, but I'm not rushing in, especially if you believe this gang are hanging out there. Right now, I need some rest."

  "Very well," said Bella. "Thank you for listening, Lyle. We'll plan everything tomorrow. I knew you'd be the one to save us."

  They exchanged smiles, though Lyle's felt more like a grimace. When Bella began organizing a nest of bedding for him near the stone seat, he was relieved her relentless chatter had ceased. While they'd been talking, the family had returned from the sea, cramming the cave with slumbering bodies. Some of the children slept with tails rather than legs, so they could curl into comfy balls. Miria sucked on sils tailfins.

  Fixing on the dying embers of the fire rather than this endearing scene, Lyle wondered how his world had spun full circle in the past twenty-four hours. His family had been dead to him. Then Cully had swept him away, and while she'd let him down already, Bella, Miria, and the others tugged on his heartstrings. He liked the notion of being the family hero, and didn't want to disappoint, even though he doubted he was this legendary Dragon Rider.

  On the other hand, Bella's theory that he was the Dragon Rider tapped into nightmares that haunted him even when he lay in Ben's arms—that he didn't belong in Ben's world and never could. Either way, if he went on Bella's mission, he could be sucked into a whirlpool of family responsibility that he'd never escape from. Alternatively, he could be captured and killed by this gang.

  Or he could kill again himself, whether deliberately or otherwise. How many "accidental" injuries and deaths would Ben forgive him for?

  Maybe staying away from Ben could still be for the best. At least he will never wake up to discover he's married a monster…

  After several sleepless hours batting worst-case scenarios around his mind, Lyle made a decision. He'd follow his sister's example, bugger off without a word, and go home to Ben.

  When dawn light snuck through the narrow entrance to the cave, Lyle smoothed down his rumpled t-shirt, and stole out into the open. He cast a look over his shoulder at the huddled sleepers, disquieted by the pang in his chest. He would return to see if he could help, but he must wed Ben first, in case something went horribly wrong. Besides, if he left now, he could travel at his own pace and get back home for tomorrow no trouble. He might even arrive later today, and give Ben a pleasant surprise.

  Damn. But were those Miria's huge green eyes, staring back at him? Yes, the child was wide awake, flipping over to gawp at him even harder. Lyle pressed a finger to his lips, winked playfully, and then hoofed it.

  His remorse chiming louder than ever, he'd nearly reached the shore, when something struck him in the stomach. He doubled over, clutching his midriff, more startled than in too much pain. No solid object had hit him; it had to be some form of magic. So either Miria was the most powerful kid in merfolk history and really didn't want him to leave or…

  Lyle looked wildly around, and his shock turned to cold, hard fright. A group of merfolk strode through the breakers, foam dripping from their lofty frames and fins speared aggressively. The sole female among them—a stately figure with bone-pale straight hair and equally washed-out skin—brandished a strange metal ring about the size of a saucer. Her stern features were familiar, but he'd no time to place her.

  He swallowed back a fear that threatened to cripple him, recalling Bella's theory that the gang who'd slaughtered Emmet targeted merfolk with great power. This had to be them. Those rumours about the dragon had doubtless brought them hunting for him.

  Well, if power was what they wanted, he'd damn well give it to them. And if he got really mad… Well, he hoped fatalities could be avoided this time, if just for Ben's sake.

  Lyle straightened shakily, raised his arms, and dragged as much magic as he could from the ocean. He'd muster a wave to wash them as far as the Isles of Scilly. Yet as the mermaid's cyan-blue gaze captured his, icy and unnerving, he faltered.

  Like Bella, this mermaid was a vestige from his long distant past. But he'd seen her more recently, maybe in a dream. Who was she?

  He'd hesitated too long. He'd not summoned the tide yet, and the group were upon him. Confronted first by a huge, hairy and alarmingly naked merman, Lyle swung a punch, achieving a satisfying crunch in his attacker's gut. The big merman staggered backward, but before Lyle could shake the cramping from his knuckles, the others closed in. Hands and fins grabbed Lyle from all angles.

  Even as he felt the inner swoop of his power, one of the gang forced him to his knees. Another seized his long hair in a fist, lifting it, while a further assailant—the mermaid—clamped the metal ring around his throat.

  Lyle heard a loud click and cold steel pressed into his flesh. The build of magic in his guts died instantly, replaced by a searing pain. He gasped and fell limp in his assailants' grasp, while the surge of his hatred vied with his physical torment.

  This was all Cully's fault… and he loathed her for it.

  "Don't fight it," said the mermaid. "The device harvests your ability to summon magic, but it doesn't have to kill you, like it killed the others. With you, I'm willing to strike a deal."

  Whatever this deal was, Lyle didn't hear it yet. A last desperate grasp for his magic invoked such a twist of agony that his vision blacked out and his consciousness mercifully departed.

  Part Three

  Chapter Nine

  The sharp knock on the flat door sent shock waves through Ben.

  It'd been impossible to get a good night's sleep without Lyle, so Ben had been vacuuming and tidying since eight a.m. in preparation for the family visit. He'd still not cleared more than a yard square of floor space between Lyle's art clutter for his nieces to play in. Thus, Ben prayed this was the postman, and not Alison pulling one of her early-
bird tricks. When he threw the door wide to reveal Cully, he blinked twice in surprise.

  "Hi," said Cully, who'd shapeshifted to conceal her fins and wore an untorn set of the figure-hugging t-shirt and leggings combo she favoured. "Can I come in?"

  "Of course," said Ben, stepping aside to let her past then glancing hopefully down the passage toward the elevator. "Uh, where's Lyle?"

  "Long story," said Cully, sweeping Ben with a placid scrutiny. He slid past her into the kitchenette, uneasy. "But basically, I left him with the family."

  "You did what?" Ben switched on the kettle on reflex, and then pulled out two mugs, which he clonked down on the breakfast bar for emphasis. "You do remember what your so-called family did to him in the past?"

  "Don't sweat it, Ben, he's fine. He'll be with us tomorrow at the latest."

  "Really? You're quite sure?" Ben's anxiety pitched in synch with the hiss of the kettle, and he rounded on Cully. "I should never have let him go with you!"

  She thinned her eyes. "Mmmm, yeah, and that's your call, is it?"

  "What do you mean by that? Of course it was his decision, but…"

  Ben conceded "I should never had let" had been a poor choice of words, but that was beside the point. He hated the idea of Lyle being deserted with even the sad remains of the family that'd abused him so badly. That said, Ben hadn't liked the notion of Lyle heading off with Cully in the first place, but he'd not stopped him.

  "Lyle's a free agent," he said, "and can do what he pleases. I worry about him, that's all."

  "Well, there's no need to fret about where he is now." Cully plonked herself down on the sofa, stretching like a satisfied feline. "It was adorable—they'd made welcome banners for him, and it was all hugs and smiles. I left partially because I didn't want to steal Lyle's thunder, but mainly because I want to have a private word with you."

  Ben had a nasty suspicion where this conversation was going. "Okay, I'm listening. Do you want a cup of tea while you tell me why I'm not good enough for your brother?"

  "A camomile infusion would be a nice accompaniment, if you've got some."

  Their shared laugh broke a little of the tension. The kettle clicked off the boil. "You know what, I do have camomile," said Ben. "Lyle likes it, although peppermint and nettle is his favourite flavour."

  Ben made the camomile tea then a soothing Earl Grey for himself, and passed Cully her mug. He settled on the high stall of the breakfast bar, deliberately looking down at her because he'd the sounder moral ground. After all, he ought to dislike Cully much harder than he did for careering in, after centuries of absence, and thinking she could order both him and Lyle around.

  "Lyle doesn't need any of this, you know?" Circling one finger, Cully gestured around the flat. "I know you mean well, and you're clearly a nice guy, but Lyle needs the sea, open horizons, and his freedom."

  "I don't keep him chained up," countered Ben. He sipped his tea, inwardly vowing to remain serene. "We have the sea almost on our doorstep. He can swim twice a day, more often when he has a day off, and—"

  "Days off?" Something dangerous glinted in Cully's eyes that set Ben inhaling sharply, though her tone disclosed frustration rather than fury. "This is what I'm getting at. You've turned my brother into a human wage slave, helping pay the rent for this place, worrying about wedding fees, and putting food in your belly. He's just gone from one long imprisonment to another, when all he needs is to be free!"

  "He is free." Ben drew on all his iron resolve to keep his anger at bay, though his fingers trembled around his hot tea. Deep down, he got what she was saying, and it made uncomfortable listening. But Lyle had choices. "He knows I'd let him leave anytime, if that was what he wanted. It isn't. We love our life together."

  "Because it's preferable to being left alone to rot! Lyle doesn't even know what true freedom is, thanks to y—"

  "Okay, you can stop right there with the blaming me!" Even Ben's patience had limits, and Cully nudged them now. "We broke the curse. Lyle and I. We freed him, together. Where were you, for that long stretch he was imprisoned? You did nothing for Lyle, all those years!"

  "I did try." To Ben's surprise, Cully slouched miserably, her bluey-green fringe drooping toward the rim of her mug. "Can you imagine how it felt, knowing he was stuck there, perhaps already dead, but certainly alone, scared, and in pain? Lyle was always strongminded, strong all round, really… but he was still my baby brother."

  "So you did try to help?"

  Cully nodded, fixing on her tea as if it reflected her foulest nightmares. "As soon as I was able, I travelled to Shanty Wood, hoping I could find a way to break the curse. I couldn't even get close enough to see him. As time went by, I tried every month, then once every year, then less… until 1917."

  "What happened then?" asked Ben.

  "1917 was a horrible year," murmured Cully. "Human friends of mine were dying pointlessly in the war. Maybe the sheer awfulness of the world made it easier for me to… give my brother up for dead. Plenty of others had to face the same thing. After that… Well, Lyle's the reason I shut down my heart. Thinking of him dying alone hurt so badly, I vowed never to care for anybody so much again, lover or family. I tried not to think too hard about anything, and I got pretty good at it… until, one-hundred years of the carefree life later, my baby brother came back from the dead."

  "Oh," said Ben, all the heat of combat siphoned from him. "I'm, um, I'm truly sorry."

  Cully looked up at him, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. "Look, I know it was you who enabled Lyle to break the curse, and I get you love him and he loves you. But I'm coming on strong here because I'm worried. When I heard he'd survived, all those feelings I'd pushed away—that I thought I'd never have again—came surging back. I honestly care about Lyle, and I don’t think that he's… quite well. I don't think he's recovered from being landlocked for so long."

  "What do you mean?" Ben had been prepared for emotional hammer blows, but not that. "Granted, Lyle was ill in Shanty Wood, and he believed he was dying, but he's been much stronger again lately. He still gets these faint spells if he does too much magic, but—"

  "Because of his long imprisonment away from the sea, feeling weak after magical exertion is pretty much all Lyle knows." Cully crinkled her nose and shook her head. "But he's hardly a child anymore, and it's just not right for one as gifted as him. He even finds swimming for any length of time hard! Being close to the sea has helped him compensate, but he might never get over his ordeal. He could still be fading… dying even."

  "Don't say that." Ben's words sounded distant, as if he were listening to himself speaking from another room.

  The notion of Lyle dying destroyed Ben. Hell, he could endure restless nights worrying about what'd happen when he aged, growing bald and even softer around the middle, while Lyle remained young and beautiful. But Lyle dying first? Ben couldn't endure it.

  Ben didn't recall moving, but he'd ended up on the sofa beside Cully, wanting to clasp her hands and beg. "Please… don't. It can't be true."

  "His condition mightn't be that drastic," said Cully, "but he definitely isn't right. All I know for certain is that Lyle's a merman, not a human, and you mustn't lose sight of the fact that he doesn't belong in your world. If he receives any further blows to his strength, he might not last much longer."

  Cully's imploring gaze met his, and all Ben could do was nod. Whether Ben liked it or not, she clearly cared for Lyle too. Through that, if nothing else, they were connected.

  "I get where you're coming from," he managed, at length. "But unless you're absolutely sure being here with me is damaging him, I won't push him away. At the very least, it's Lyle's call, not either of ours."

  She breathed out heavily, sending ripples across the surface of her cooling camomile. "Fair enough, but it's up to you to tell him that living too much of a human life isn't healthy. He'll listen to you."

  "I'll talk to him when he gets back." Ben got up and looked around the flat, suddenly grateful he'd the
cleaning to take his mind off things. Having Lyle miles away up the coast was bad enough, without Cully triggering dark fears that had long dogged Ben.

  That Lyle could never fit into Ben's world, that he belonged somewhere else. That, ultimately, they'd have to part…

  Quashing these unbearable scenarios, Ben manoeuvred his way back around the breakfast bar and started washing up the dirty crockery in the sink.

  "Of course, I'd talk to Lyle now, if you hadn't left him behind," he said, peeping over at his shoulder at Cully, who remained hunched and uncharacteristically morose. "You did tell him you were off before you left, right?"

  Cully winced. "Not really. I told you, I'm still getting used to this 'caring' business again. It seemed hilarious at the time, just to leave."

  "You thought dumping him there without a word was funny?" A plate slipped out of Ben's hand and clinked against the bowl he'd eaten his miserable solo breakfast from. "Shit! He hates being deserted, and it doesn't take a rocket scientist—or whatever the undine equivalent is—to figure he's a tad edgy about family relationships!"

  "Okay, I take your point, but on that topic—why does he have to hide his fins from your family? Are they so awful they can't accept him, or are you just too damned scared to tell them?"

  Ben scrubbed furiously at some dried-on Weetabix. He had to choose the right moment to break that news, if just to protect Lyle from any potential animosity. She ought to get how bloody difficult that was, seeing as she'd travelled all this way to tell Ben her fears for Lyle rather than just telling Lyle herself. He dumped down the soapy crocks and wheeled about. "You listen here, Cully. You're hardly in a position to lecture me about family communications, and—"

  Briing! Briing!

  Ben's landline startled them both. "I'd best get that," he said crossly, stalking over to a little table by the door. He wished Cully would either go find Lyle and bring him back safely, or just go away. "Hello?"

  "Hiya, it's me!" It was Alison. Ben hoped she was just leaving Birmingham New Street, or making her change in London. "Guess what?"