by Ann Gimpel
He kissed her forehead and cheeks, before brushing his mouth over hers. “Let’s do that. Ye can fill in details while we clean up.” He hesitated, mulling things over before adding, “I have an idea to float, but ’tis risky as sin, and I need to think it through a bit more afore I open my mouth.”
She cocked her head to one side. “That was quite the teaser. Are you sure you don’t want to say more?”
“Aye, quite sure.”
* * * *
Aislinn wound a towel around her wet hair. Fionn’s manor house had a gravity feed spring which provided running water, and they could warm it with magic, so most of the creature comforts she’d associated with civilization were still available—at least here. In the underground dwelling where she’d lived in Utah, running water had come from a waterfall cascading down one rocky wall. Her cave was leftover from a deserted mining operation. It had been easy to hide with magic, but not very commodious. A wave of nostalgia swept through her. The few personal mementoes she’d kept from before the dark gods had killed her father were still in her cave. Though she might return there someday, it was looking less and less likely.
Buck up. They’re only things.
She pulled on clothes. As usual, Fionn was quicker both dressing and bathing, and he’d left to rustle up some food for them in the kitchens. She gazed around his bedchamber. Nestled into a corner of the third floor of the manor house, huge beams ran through the ceiling, and a fireplace was set into the wall next to a door leading to a patio. Another door led into Fionn’s study at the far end of the room. All in all, it was a simple, masculine environment. Nothing fussy. The headboard and footboard were carved, dark wood and they matched an armoire and several dressers scattered about. A round table and two chairs lay between the windows and the bed. Leaded glass panes lined the wall where the fireplace was and the wall nearest the bathroom. When she’d first seen this room, sunlight—a rare occurrence in Northern Ireland—had been bouncing through the windows, illuminating the room and adding both enchantment and mystery to it.
Scratching at the door jerked her from her reverie, and she sent magic spiraling across the room to unlatch it. Rune trotted in with the remains of a mangled rodent trailing from his mouth.
“Ewwww.” Aislinn crinkled her nose. “Couldn’t you have finished that outside?”
He dropped it onto the thick Oriental carpet and spread his jaws in a wolfish grin. “You’ve eaten worse.”
“Yes, but only when I was starving. And I usually tried to cook squirrels.”
“It’s a chipmunk.” Rune settled onto the floor with a thunk, and proceeded to munch on his treat.
“Where’s Bella?” Aislinn dragged a sweater over her top.
“With Fionn and the dragons.”
She headed toward the door leading into the hallway. “Are they outside?”
Rune made a chuffing noise and switched to mind speech. “Of course. Dragons won’t fit in the house.”
Aislinn wasn’t so sure about that. They’d certainly fit inside the great room, but now that there were six of them, it would be a tight fit. “The babies?”
Rune shook his head and fur clumps flew every which way. “Why do you think I’m up here? That little black one won’t leave me be.”
“He’s not all that little anymore.” She bit back the rest of her words. The baby dragons were actually much bigger than Rune now, but she didn’t see any reason to remind the wolf of that. She quirked a brow. “I’m going downstairs to eat something. Are you coming?”
He dropped the small corpse onto the carpet again. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay here.”
“Fine. I’ll call you if I need you.”
Aislinn let herself into the hall and made her way down two sets of stairs, across the great room, down more stairs, and to the kitchen. No matter what the Celts and dragons were hatching up, she needed food.
Bran stood over a pot on the stove, stirring. He turned and faced her, a smile on his face. “Can I dish you up a snack, lass?”
“That would be nice. Where’s everyone else?”
“Somewhere between here and the moat. Fionn asked me to stay here and make certain ye had enough to eat.”
She smothered a self-conscious grin. It was nice to be taken care of. No one had done much of anything for her since her father had been killed and her mother had gone mad. It was a harsh indoctrination into adulthood—and a quick one. She extended a hand for the bowl Bran held out to her. “Thanks.”
“Doona mention it.” He dropped a lid on the pot and turned to leave.
An idea formed. “Bran! Don’t go just yet.”
He focused his copper gaze on her; today his longish, blond hair was braided Celtic warrior style, and he wore his characteristic battle leathers. “Aye, lass. Can I get you aught else?”
Information, you can get me information. Unfortunately, the Celts were notoriously close-mouthed. Bran might be the god of prophecy, but if she wanted him to share anything with her, she’d have to proceed with stealth. His gaze sharpened, and red flared in the depths of his eyes. She built a quiet ward around her mind, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
Fat chance.
Aislinn cleared her throat. “How much longer before the baby dragons can fight for us?”
“Mayhap only another few days.” He made a grunting sound. “That is if Dewi allows them to fight at all.”
“Could she make that choice?” Aislinn spooned a split pea and dried vegetable mix into her mouth. It wasn’t bad. Sort of a stick-to-your ribs affair.
“She could. Nidhogg would fight her, though. So would Gwydion.” Bran ran water into a glass at the sink and dropped it softly in front of her. “Ask what ye really want to know, lass. ’Twill save both of us a lot of time.”
“Am I that transparent?” She winced.
“Och, I doona know about that.” He shrugged. “But I’ve been reading minds for millennia.”
“Great!” She smiled brightly. “Then you can tell me what I want to know without me saying a word.”
His handsome face darkened. “’Tisn’t a game. Sometimes I forget how young ye truly are.”
That smarted. She dropped her spoon into her empty bowl. “All right. Your gift is prophecy. What have you seen about our war with the Lemurians and dark gods?”
He shook his head, his eyes flaring with compassion. “Some things are beyond my ken. Because so many varieties of magic wielders are involved, I canna see that particular future.”
Her Seeker gift—the one that sorted truth from falsehood—twanged sourly. “That’s not true,” she blurted.
The air around Bran thickened, thrumming with magic, and she wondered if he’d teleport out of reach of her questions. Not much she could do if he did. She held her breath, waiting. If he left, she may as well go in search of Fionn and the dragons. Moments dribbled by. Finally, he strode to the table, used a foot to drag the chair opposite her out, and sat on it.
“Why’d you decide not to cut and run?” she asked dryly.
He narrowed his eyes. “And are ye determined to make me regret my choice? By the way, lassie, I never cut and run. I make decisions based on exigencies.”
“You thought about teleporting out of here.”
“Aye.”
“So,” she persisted, “what changed your mind?”
“Can ye remain silent long enough to listen?”
Aislinn chuckled. “Touché. Not one of my strong points, but I’ll do the best I can.”
“Prophecy isna like watching television.” He folded his hands in front of him, lacing the fingers together. “I see bits and pieces of many different futures without knowing how they’ll weave together.”
“So you’ve seen snippets of what’s coming?”
He nodded. “Of course. The dragons will be a great help, but there is a darkness there too that I canna interpret.”
“Is there anything we can do to prepare?”
“Nothing beyond what we’re already doing.
We will continue to field attacks. If we’re strong enough, we may prevail.”
“Fionn said he had an idea.”
“Did he now?” Bran’s deep voice kindled with interest. “What was it?”
“I have no idea. He wouldn’t tell me beyond describing it as risky.”
“Och aye, and what isna risky in these times?” He splayed his hands on the table top and levered himself upright.
She gazed up at him. “Could you at least tell me about Fionn and me?”
His eyes twinkled. “Follow your heart. If that doesna work, Arawn or I would make more than adequate substitutes.”
Aislinn made shooing motions with both hands. “Get out of here.”
“Now she wants me to leave.” Bran rolled his gaze skyward, laughing, and vanished. His laughter hung in the air after he’d disappeared.
Chapter Eleven
“The next one of you who tries to fly out of here will have to do some serious cave time,” Dewi bellowed.
Nidhogg chuckled through steam and smoke.
“I fail to see what’s so funny,” Dewi snapped.
He turned his green gaze her way, and she could have sworn he winked, but it was tough to tell through the clouds of steam surrounding him. “This is why we raise them in caves, my dear. We can close off the entrance and they’re not strong enough to escape for a while.”
“We can return to your cave with them,” Berra offered.
A cacophony of nos rose around Dewi.
“We just got back here,” the black youngling announced. “We are not going back.”
Dewi blasted him with flames, but they rolled off his scales. “You do not call the shots, youngling.”
He sidled in front of her. His bravado would have been laughable, since he was less than a quarter her size, if it weren’t so dangerous for him to make his own decisions.
“Soon, you won’t be able to tell us anything.”
Dewi didn’t like the sound of that, but before she could ask for clarification, Nidhogg lumbered between her and their black offspring.
He bent and snatched the young dragon by the scruff of his neck and lifted him to eye level. “What did you mean by that?”
“N-Nothing.” Face to face with Nidhogg, the youngster wasn’t so bold.
Dewi joined her mate. “You can tell us,” she said, her voice poisonously sweet, “or we can drag it out of your mind.”
The dragon writhed in Nidhogg’s grasp, but it didn’t do him any good. He spit fire, and Nidhogg shook him hard.
“Stop that!” the Norse dragon growled.
Kra gasped; air and fire whooshed from him.
Dewi stared at the copper dragon. “What? Don’t we have enough problems?”
“Apparently not,” Kra muttered. He drew himself up to his full height, scales clanking together. “Since the two of you were dancing around the point, I looked inside his mind.”
“And?” Nidhogg’s tone could have branded a warning in plate steel.
“I’ll talk,” the black youngling piped up. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” Dewi said. “What did Kra see in your mind?”
A long, hissing snarl came from Kra, and then he said, “I’m counting to three. If you haven’t told them, I will.”
“Old Ones,” the black youngling said. “They come into my dreams.”
Dewi’s heart plummeted into her feet. “Why haven’t you pushed them out?” she demanded. “You’re strong enough. Or you could have called one of us—”
“But they’re in trouble,” he broke in. “They hate the dark gods too. They want us to fight together. They said they’d come for me and my eggmates and give us everything we want if we’d just fight for them. We’re almost old enough.”
Dewi didn’t know whether to laugh, slap her child, or lock him behind stone walls. “You believed them?” She shook her head, incredulous.
“Why wouldn’t I?” her youngster asked. “After all, they were just doing the dark ones’ bidding when they kidnapped our brother and sister.” He hesitated a beat. “They were very sad about our sister dying.”
“Let me tell you something.” Dewi bent close and grasped the black dragon’s head with a taloned foreleg. “I spent hundreds of years in a tunnel beneath Taltos spying on them. They invited the dark gods to Earth.”
The black youngling nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know. They told me all about how they were dying and desperate for anything to help them survive. They said we come from common stock, that we have to stick together. Against everyone.”
Berra had gathered the other six young dragons. “Have any of the rest of you been a part of this?” she demanded, her red scales vibrating with outrage.
“All of us,” the black youngster said. “I already told you the Old Ones need all of us to help them fight the dark gods.”
Dewi let go of her child and turned to Nidhogg. “I’m almost beyond words. What do you think?”
He narrowed his eyes. “No thinking to be done here. They must go to our borderworld and remain there until the fighting is done.”
“But I don’t want to—” the black dragon began.
“What you want doesn’t matter,” Nidhogg spoke over him.
“They need us,” the youngster insisted.
“You’ve been duped,” Dewi said. “Do you know what that word means?”
“Tricked.” He sounded sulky.
She blew fire in frustration. “You’re too young to know better, and you have a good heart, but what would have happened is once they had you, they would have tried to use you as a bargaining chip to get us to capitulate.”
Royce clanked his jaws together. “Vaughna and I can see them safely to the borderworld and will remain with them until one of you tells us it is safe to return.”
Fionn and Gwydion hurried around a corner of the manor and ground to a halt. “What’s going on?” Gwydion asked, glancing from dragon to dragon.
Fionn muttered, “I fear we willna like the answer.”
Arawn trotted after them and stood by Fionn’s side, surveying the tableau. Dewi had always respected the god of the dead, and today was no exception.
He made his way to Nidhogg, laid a hand on the young dragon’s head, and his face darkened. “Fuck!”
“What is it?” Fionn and Gwydion surged forward.
“Lemurians have done quite a thorough job corrupting this one.” He slanted his gaze at Dewi. “Did the damage stop here?”
“No,” Dewi said, her voice flat. “It’s all of them.”
“The Old Ones need us,” the black dragon said in a wheedling tone, but he didn’t sound quite as self-assured as he had before.
Maybe the fact that no one shared his worldview was sinking in. Dewi hoped so.
Fionn focused on Dewi. “What are we going to do?”
“We have it under control,” she said. “They’re going to our borderworld with Royce and Vaughna. And they’ll remain there until the danger has passed.”
“Or until there’s no one left here,” Nidhogg rumbled, “in which case, they’ll live out their lives on our borderworld.”
“That sounds horrible,” a green youngster piped up.
“Yes,” a red female chimed in. “Nothing but dirt and fire.”
“How would you know anything about it?” Dewi eyed her brood. “You’ve never been there. The fire world has been good enough for dragons since the beginning of time. It’s where we were forged.”
“Old Ones said—” the green youngling began.
Nidhogg blasted him with fire. “Lies,” he shouted, spraying everything within a fifty foot radius with fire. “They filled your heads with lies.”
“How could all of you have been so stupid?” Dewi demanded, not really expecting an answer. They were young, naïve to the ways of the world. Of course they’d be an easy mark…
“We canna leave them here,” Gwydion said, breaking into her thoughts. “They’re a weak link in our defens
es.” He shook his staff at the dragon horde. “Why dinna any of you say aught?”
“I instructed them to remain silent,” the brood’s alpha said. “The Old Ones told us we couldn’t tell anyone. They said you wouldn’t understand.”
“No shit,” Fionn grunted. “They bought your silence because they knew we’d understand all too well.”
“It doesna matter,” Arawn cut in and focused on Nidhogg. “How will ye transport them?”
“It won’t take long,” Nidhogg said. “We’ll teleport to a point where we’re close, and then we’ll power through the barrier separating Earth from our borderworld. He swept his gaze through his brood. “I expect absolute compliance from each of you,” he said. “Dewi and I will be mind-linked to you, and if we sense so much as a stray thought we don’t like, you won’t make it to the borderworld. Do I make myself clear?”
Dewi winced at his tone. She wouldn’t have been quite so harsh, yet she understood the necessity.
“Yes, sir,” the brood’s alpha dropped his head in deference to his father, and Dewi breathed a little easier. She wasn’t sure if she could shoot one of her own children out of the skies.
Royce furled his black wings. “Vaughna and I are ready anytime.”
Magic boiled around Nidhogg until the air was thick with the stink of ozone and dragons’ fiery breath. He still held his son in an unbreakable grasp. Dewi laced magic in with her mate’s casting and sent spells to tether each of her other six children.
“We’ll be back within the hour,” she told Fionn.
“Aye, and once we return,” Nidhogg added, “we will convene a war council. This waiting around for them to strike next isn’t working for me.”
* * * *
Fionn watched as the four adult dragons and seven youngsters teleported away from his manor house.
Kra lumbered forward, followed by Berra. “What a goddess-damned shame,” he said.
“We were counting on their help once they got a bit older,” Berra seconded. She turned her golden gaze on her mate. “Do you suppose this happened while we had them in the caves?”
“Where else?” Kra replied.
Berra hung her head. In between steam and smoke, garbled words emerged. “I never left them alone for a moment, yet somehow this is my fault.”
