“There are some who say that our species cannot co-exist. That each is too powerful and too threatening. But I am here to tell you that we can and do work together, as one. That there is room in this world for us all, and that our power can be used for the good of all shifters. Do not forget that our greatest threat is out there—” With that, she looked out onto the horizon. “There are humans in the world who would love for shifters to become the stuff of fairy tales; to cease existing entirely. And if we begin to wipe out one another, there will be no one left to preserve our kind, to fight for our right to exist. Even dragons are no match for what is to come.”
Graeme could feel the dragons behind her resisting her words, disbelieving and scoffing in their minds for a moment, before a strange veil of confusion settled in.
Something in the way that she spoke was oddly convincing, soothing them as she changed their mindsets, dulled their killer instincts. Graeme could feel the shift in their attitudes, smiling internally as he looked on towards his mate, powerful and gifted, able to control his men even better than he could.
As an added precaution he forced the dragons to freeze in place, assuring them that yes, what Lady Lilliana said was correct; that she knew all and that they knew nothing. And like attentive school children they listened, enthralled.
The confusion subsided and once again Graeme found himself surrounded by loyal followers who were oblivious to the fact that their Lord Ramsey and his beautiful mate had the power to change their thoughts; to alter their views. And in this moment, he was ensuring that they would follow a new leader: a woman with the power to move through time, to see into the future.
On Conor’s side, the simple lightness of relief was beginning to spread like wildfire: joy at the thought that perhaps the woman who accompanied the beautiful flying déor could be correct; that perhaps the dragons would come around.
“There is something else that you should all know,” shouted Lily, looking over the thousands of shifters in her sight lines. “Something that even my mates don’t realize. There will soon be among us one who is living proof of the bond we all share. Who can lead us into a new future of shifters, a world without hatred or prejudice among our own.”
This time Conor’s déor let out a palpable gasp; a low, deep rumble. Graeme felt his dragon heart leap in his scale-coated chest. Could this really be?
They watched enthralled as Lily smiled, her hands going to her belly as if to confirm her words.
“I am going to have their young. The young of a Beorn and a Dragon, the result of a Ritual: a tradition as old as time itself. He is growing inside me. He will have the strength to lead us all. So put aside your hatred and join me. Join us. Let our two sides come together at last in a truce. We must work together; we must teach humans the value of shifters, and that we are not a parasite, but rather a benefit to all society.”
Her mates wanted to shift, to run to her, to embrace this wonderful woman who stood so high atop her strange fire wall. But they held firm, controlling their men, holding them back in case of rebellion.
As Lily looked over them, though, she saw no signs of resistance. On Conor’s side, déors had begun to shift into human form, and their faces revealed their hope that they might soon be allowed to return to their families.
On Graeme’s, the dragons remained loyally in formation, static in the air behind him; whether this was his doing or theirs, Lily didn’t know. But either way, the war seemed to have stopped in its tracks.
Could it really have been so simple? A few words from her, coming after a display of pyrotechnics, averting a multitude of deaths?
She waited a moment before watching the men on Conor’s side begin to slap one another’s shoulders; to turn back, away from the wall, as though prepared already to go home.
On Graeme’s side the dragons seemed to allow themselves a slow descent towards the earth: evidence that no fighting would occur. They were letting their guard down, obeying a silent command from their skilled leader.
Lily exhaled as though for the first time in hours, her hand going to her chest. She could feel her heart beat hard against her flesh, not daring to calm itself until she reached solid ground and felt the embrace of her two mates: then she would know for certain that she’d succeeded.
But with that thought came a flurry of movement from the side of Conor’s army.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lily saw a creature moving through the air and as she turned she saw with horror that the Roc shifter, who’d been such a difficult adversary, was darting towards her.
In a flash she shifted and dashed skyward, moving out of his way. But instead of turning to follow, the Roc advanced.
It only took a second to realize that his intended target was someone else entirely.
15
Graeme watched from the air as the Roc lunged towards Lily’s human form, still perched precariously atop the fire wall. Without hesitation the dragon commander shot his body forward through the air, attempting to intervene, to throw himself between the attacker and his victim.
But Lily was even quicker; just in time to evade the giant bird’s onslaught, she shifted, adeptly swooping out of the way. It was then that Graeme saw that the enormous bird, only a few feet away now, was heading straight for him, uninterested in the phoenix hybrid. He was the target, and the other shifter was about to use him as a means to resume the interrupted war.
Killing the dragon leader would prompt the others into battle, ensuring that the conflict would continue for a long, long time to come.
Graeme tilted his soaring body as the bird came at him, attempting to divert it out of the Roc’s path, but the other shifter’s speed was too great. In a flash he’d managed to slam his significant weight into Graeme’s neck, throwing off his balance and knocking him sideways with massive force, so that the dragon’s wings folded around him, collapsing around his large body.
The red dragon tumbled towards the earth, a mass of scales and limbs as he attempted to reopen his diaphanous wings and to regain his center of gravity. But the blow had been a direct hit, landing hard enough that recovery was all but impossible, and a moment later the red dragon’s huge body slammed into the ground with a horrific thud, his neck flung in an unnatural jerking motion, head smashing the ground with a force that no living thing should ever sustain.
From her position high in the air, Lily watched the incident with horror, helpless to act quickly enough, before swooping down to earth, towards Graeme’s limp body. She landed beside him, once again shifting and coating herself in the cloak that Merriman had provided.
Graeme was unresponsive when she reached him, shouting his name over and over again in hoarse gasps in a desperate attempt to rouse him and to move him out of harm’s way. As she leaned over him protectively, her eyes scanned the sky for the shifter who was so bent on seeking to prolong this ugly war.
The Roc had flown skyward once again, hovering for only a moment in front of the dragon army which had ceased its descent and hovered now like flying statues, their eyes fixed in the distance, seemingly oblivious to what was unfolding before them. Their leader’s injury had somehow immobilized them for the moment, numbing them to their usual fighting instincts. But Kormag had no doubt that they would soon be back to their regular, violent selves, attacking the opposing army for no reason other than simple vengeance.
And as insurance, he would take out Graeme Ramsey, killing their leader before they regained their senses, cutting off the one shifter who could control them.
Lily remained in her position, standing over Graeme, whose eyes were still closed. The force with which he’d hit the earth was enough to kill even the strongest creature, but she could see that his side moved up and down rapidly, and faint snorts of smoke emerged from his nostrils. Their was some life in him, at least, though it was unclear whether it would remain.
All the times she’d feared for Conor’s life, she’d somehow forgotten that Graeme too was vulnerable, mortal. And now the truth was
hitting her like a mace to the heart, a blow to her chest that sent her reeling.
“Graeme,” she said, placing a hand on his scale-coated cheek. “Come back, please. Wake up for me, for us.”
Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with the dragon, aching to find a way to help him.
A shrill cry erupted from overhead and she turned her face towards the sky to see that the Roc was once again darting straight downwards, his body a missile aimed at the injured Dragon Lord, determined, it seemed, not to leave a hint of breath in his body.
She stood up straight them, thrusting herself between Graeme and the rapidly descending bird, her arms outstretched in a protective stance.
“You can’t have him,” she yelled. “Not now or ever. Unless you kill me, too.”
The Roc swerved away at the last second, turning again to shoot downwards. He had no interest in harming Lilliana, in taking out Lord Dunbar’s child: a child who could be useful in future.
No, this was only about the Dragon Lord and his army of killers.
This time he would come at Graeme from the other side; he would avoid Lilliana; she could be dealt with after she’d given birth, after all. Until then she was to live a healthy, if unhappy, life.
Lily saw Kormag’s new scheme too late, and tried to circle around Graeme, but his body was too large, her human legs too slow to circumvent him in time to use her body as a blockade. She wanted to shift, her inner dragon screaming out to let her fight, but Merriman’s words came to her in a sudden frenzy of syllables: “You should do everything but fight.”
It wasn’t herself that she wanted to protect. It was her child; their child.
And so she made the agonizing choice not to fight, wondering in that instant if it was a choice that she would spend a lifetime regretting.
The Roc had turned back towards his victim, and it would only take a few seconds to reach him. One blow to the chest with that beak, one skillful attack with those dagger-like talons, and Graeme would be gone.
“No!” Lily cried as the bird swooped down, his clawed feet jutting out, ready and eager to tear out the unconscious dragon’s heart.
As Lily sprinted, something appeared out of thin air in front of her, manifesting from the other side of the fire wall and shooting its enormous body between the Roc and the motionless dragon: an enormous, dark bear clad in silver armour, towering over Lily as though she were the size of a child.
Before the rapidly diving creature who seemed more rocket than bird, Conor rose onto his hind legs, his huge mouth opening in a loud roar as the Roc tried, but failed, to turn away. His momentum was too great and there was nothing in the world that could have helped him avoid what was to come.
Conor clamped his jaws around the flyer’s left leg as Kormag swerved, spinning him hard sideways and thrusting him to the ground with brutal force, as the Roc had done to Graeme.
The Roc slammed into the earth, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. But he was conscious still. He attempted to right himself with his wings, his beak snapping at the bear’s side in desperation.
But Conor’s armour protected him and he lunged at Kormag, his teeth fastening hard around the Roc’s throat as he tore in without mercy. Tendon and muscle gave way to his own incredible strength, the creature’s life fading in his mouth as he went limp.
Dead.
He threw his enemy’s body to the side without ceremony, blood dripping down his jowls, and turned back to face Lily and Graeme, who still lay on the ground, unmoving.
Next to his mates stood another man now: a nobleman, from the looks of it, dressed in armour befitting a king. His hair was flecked with silver, his eyes bright. He was a dragon shifter, Conor knew, and in all likelihood Graeme’s father.
The man looked first towards Conor and then at the red dragon who lay on the ground. He knelt next to his son, taking Graeme’s head in his arms, and broke down, his back bent as he pressed his forehead into his son’s body, which struggled to hold onto any sign of life.
Lily ran to Conor and put a hand on his face, her eyes moist with tears as she looked into his.
“You saved him,” she said.
Conor shifted as she said the words, the armour falling to the ground about his feet with extraordinary lightness, and took her in his arms.
“Let’s hope,” he said, guiding her over towards Graeme and the man who held him, wishing to pass his life into his son.
The red dragon seemed to have calmed, his breath coming in even pulses now, and Lily laid a hand on him, stroking his scales.
“What do I do?” she asked for what felt like the thousandth time. “I don’t have the power to fix this.”
A moment later, as if in reply to her question, a gryphon and a white owl landed nearby, the gryphon shifting into a familiar robed man.
It was a moment later that Lily gasped as the owl disappeared.
In his place stood another robed man; one who, like Merriman, had a shock of white hair. His eyes were bright, flecked with gold and red, his face younger than his companion’s, as though it hadn’t seen the light of day in many years.
He took a few steps forward, advancing, and looking at Graeme’s father, asked, “May I?”
The elder Lord Ramsey nodded and Barnabas reached down to lay a hand on Graeme’s side, muttering quiet words in a language that only one other man understood; his long-time companion.
And then the dragon’s eyes opened, and a second later the red-haired young man that Lily and Conor adored lay before them on the ground.
“Get him a robe,” Conor yelled out towards the dragons above, who were finally coming to their senses and beginning again to descend and to land in the surrounding area.
A young man brought a robe for Graeme and one for Conor, draping both men in cloth.
Graeme’s light eyes opened and he looked up, seeing Lily first, her face smiling down on his.
He grinned right back at her.
“You’re not a vision—right? Or a dream? You’re my Lilliana.”
“Yes.”
“You stopped the war.”
“We stopped the war. All three of us, together. Somehow.”
“And you are going to have a baby. Our baby.”
“It looks that way.” She smiled weakly.
“Then I can die happy,” he said, his eyes coming to a close once again.
“Graeme!” she cried, her heart leaping for the thousandth time into her throat.
The turquoise eyes opened once again, as bright as they’d ever been. “I’m only joking, Firebird. I wouldn’t miss the rest of our lives for the world.”
“I owe you a debt of gratitude,” said Lord Ramsey, addressing Conor. “But even more than that, an apology.”
“For what, exactly?” Conor’s voice was reserved. He wished to hear the words from Graeme’s father himself, though he already knew what would be said.
“We dragons are raised on a certain sort of isolation; hatred even. We are taught that everyone in the world despises us, and so we grow to despise them. I suppose that my son understood better than I did that this is not an essential attitude. He accepted you where I could not.”
“And now?”
“And now,” said Lord Ramsey, extending a hand to clasp Conor’s, “I welcome you as a sort of son-in-law. My home is yours. My dragons at your disposal. You have proven a far more worthy military leader than I.”
“Hardly,” said Conor, stifling a laugh. “I believe it’s our Lady Lilliana who is the leader.”
“She is rather impressive,” said Lord Ramsey. “It must be the dragon in her.”
“Of course.” This time Conor suppressed an eye roll. Baby steps, he told himself. The man is set in his ways.
The wall of fire died down slowly and Conor’s army made its way across in tentative steps, taking in the sight of dragons milling about on the ground. Most had never encountered a dragon, and any who had had been fortunate to live to tell of it. But now the déors seemed docile, accommoda
ting even.
“We’ve somehow altered the course of history,” said Graeme, sitting up as Merriman inspected him for serious injury. Barnabas had reverted to his comfortable owl form, the man disappeared again, perhaps forever. “I don’t know how, but we’ve done it.”
“I’m almost frightened to head back to the modern era,” laughed Lily. “God knows, there might be dragons flitting about in downtown London.”
“Wouldn’t that be a sight?”
“For the record,” said Merriman, “I recommend not flitting around in dragon form.”
As always, he spoke as though he already saw the consequences of such an action, and so Lily and Graeme went quiet, exchanging only a silent smile.
“Well, young Lord Ramsey, you seem fine. You have the wind knocked out of you and you will find yourself a little bruised. But not surprisingly, you are a rather strong lad.”
“Thank you, Merriman. For everything,” said Graeme. “I suspect that you had a hand in this, though of course you’ll never admit it.”
“I’ll leave it to Lady Lilliana to fill you in,” said the old shifter. “Meanwhile, you three know how and where to find me, and I’ll be expecting a visit very soon.”
“Consider it done.”
That evening, Graeme’s parents hosted an impromptu feast, intended originally as a victory celebration. All shifters were invited, as it was agreed that the day had proven a victory for all of them—though many of Conor’s army were still reluctant to set foot in the lair of a dragon, and so it ended up a relatively intimate affair of only several hundred guests.
Graeme and Conor were decked out in elegant silk embroidered tunics, Lily in a gown of gold. When she sat down between her mates for their dinner, Graeme leaned towards her.
“How did you know?” he asked. “How did you know what to say up there, on your wall of fire?”
“I didn’t,” she admitted. “I suppose that I had faith in you two.” Her eyes moved between the two men. “You, Conor, would have read your army’s minds. You would have known that they would follow you to the ends of the earth, so they were the easy ones; all I needed was to persuade you to halt and they would halt as well. But as for you, Graeme, I could only hope that you had a firm grip on your dragons. I knew perfectly well that they could have flown over that wall and gone for the jugular, so to speak.”
Dragon Wars Page 8
