by Amy Bearce
The little dragon jumped into the air, and Nell’s stomach lurched, but everything steadied as the wings beat an even rhythm that lifted them higher and higher into the air. Down below, Shane’s men had finally pried the big dragon away from the door with their spears and spilled into the arena. But it was too late for them and the archers that followed; she and the hatchling were already beyond their reach. She laughed and pressed her legs tightly to its sides.
The power of the dragon, even as a newborn, was a heady sensation. Heat from its belly kept her legs warm even in the freezing sky. She was thankful to feel the warmth, as it meant the fire of the little one still burned inside and she had a little time to find her friends, assuming she could. Hopefully she’d be able to spy them before she got too cold, though she bet she could fly to the highest mountain on the little dragon and stay warm.
At the thought, Nell froze, a perfect statue atop the back of the flying creature. A flying creature with strong wings and the ability to face any extreme of cold.
This dragon could fly her to the highest mountain peak. To the sword and the Tree. How had she not thought of this right away? She knew why, though: the hatchling’s suffering and mother’s fear had blotted out any long-term strategy.
But now safe in the air, she turned the idea over again, hands flexing against the tough dorsal ridge of the hatchling. She could go right away, be healed of the poison once and for all, grab the sword, and defeat her enemy.
Victory would be at hand, all because she’d contaminated this one little dragon and could force it to obey. She frowned. The poor thing would’ve been a servant to Shane anyway. And Nell would reward it greatly afterward, of course. Treat it right. Not like Shane, enslaving them like they were worthless. The pain in her palm stung, and she clenched her hand, hiding the fresh cut from sight.
She imagined the rush of flying dragonback whenever she chose. She could touch the sky. It felt like she belonged here. Excitement warmed her cheeks despite the cold wind.
On impulse, she leaned forward as far as she could and laid her hands gently along the beast as it flew higher. She touched a cold patch of deep-blue scales along its neck that had chased away the red.
Scales poisoned by her.
Nell pressed her lips tightly. She sat up straight, drawing back her hands.
Using this dragon to meet her own need was something Shane would do. Even if she got to the sword, she’d still lose if she became like him.
The blue coloring amid the red of the hatchling’s scales hadn’t gone away after they’d escaped. It had actually spread. The furnace inside the dragon would be snuffed out, along with its natural magic. There was no time for a trip to the mountain if the baby was to be saved. She couldn’t―wouldn’t―sacrifice the life of an innocent for her quest.
“Hang in there,” she murmured. The air’s coldness stung her eyes and her lungs, but it felt cleansing, as if she could breathe for the first time in ages. The wild scent of dragon musk, bitter and sweet, filled her nostrils. She begged Queenie and Grace to sense her, to find her. If there was any magic in her, surely they could seek her out.
A glitter of lights soon answered her hopes. Whether or not they felt her or the magic of the hatchling, tiny sparkles from the fairy queens and their entourage swept up and around her in a dancing cloud of lights and gold. Her eyes stung. The cold wind in her eyes, she told herself, and then followed the fairies down to camp with relief.
The tent was barely visible from above, blending in with the white terrain. She wouldn’t have found it without the fairies, but that meant all the less likely that other beasts of Shane’s would.
She leaned against the dorsal ridge and said, “Down!’ and tried to send an image to the baby dragon of them landing. The magic in the hatchling tightened along its muscles until it responded. Forcing this magnificent beast to obey sickened her. She had to free it somehow.
They landed in a flurry of snow. Corbin stumbled out of the tent holding his boline knife, followed by Micah and Tristan. Sierra and Phoebe ran, too, Sierra armed with a bow, Phoebe with the little knife Sierra had given her.
“Nell!” Corbin ran out and stopped, dropping his knife in shock. “You’re on a dragon?” His eyes lit up, with relief and curiosity. His scholarly mind never stopped.
She dismounted. “I’ll explain later, but this hatchling might yet toast or freeze us all. It’s been tainted by dark magic, and we’ve got to save it!”
Micah rushed over, examining the blue and red colors interwoven across the dragon’s scales. He laid his hand on the baby and closed his eyes. When he opened them, tears shimmered. “This young one is indeed fighting for its soul. A dark power is trying to strip out its natural magic, leaving it twisted and enslaved. The poor creature has lost much already.”
“It bit me, and I think the poison inside me began drawing out its magic,” Nell explained urgently. “I felt it enter me, but I don’t know how to give it back!”
“Lay your hands on the hatchling,” he commanded, expression hardening. “Everyone.”
They gathered around the baby dragon, whose head hung low as it shivered in pain. Phoebe cried silently, touching the dragon with shaking hands.
Nell wanted to cry, too. Shane would pay for this. The magic inside roiled, trying to reach the hatchling, but it couldn’t pass through her fury. The creature’s magic remained trapped inside.
Then Micah lifted his voice in song, the same song he once used to calm a different young dragon four years ago. This dragon also relaxed, and Micah ran his hands along it. Sierra did too, closing her eyes. Nell could see the golden threads of their magic floating into the beast. Phoebe lifted her clear, sweet voice in song as well. Though she no longer had magic, her voice was soothing all on its own. Tristan reached up and sent blue tendrils spiraling around everyone, tying them into a unified group.
Nell’s heart softened; her anger slipped away. As it did, the power of the hatchling rose back up, spinning out of her, red mist seeking its true home. She let it go with gratitude, feeling it pour back into the dragon to which it belonged.
The blue coloration along the scales receded, erased by vibrant red until not a single drop remained. The baby let out a deep sigh and stopped its piteous moans. It rubbed its head along Micah’s hands as if giving thanks. Smoke puffed out of its nostrils.
“This little one was terribly unbalanced, but I believe she will be fine now.” Micah patted the beast.
“She, huh? Of course she’ll be fine.” Nell ran her hands along the scales of the baby dragon. Smooth and stiff, but pliable, they now shone bright red in the dying light, as they should.
Sierra eyed the little trickles of fire now steaming from the dragon’s nose. “Wait, Nell―you could ride her to the mountain peak, fast! It could be the answer we’ve been looking for!”
If only she could. Nell leaned her face against the warm neck of the creature, her unwounded hand resting where fire rumbled in the beast’s belly. A similar fire burned in hers. She understood the beast’s desire for freedom. For adventure. For flight.
Her palm throbbed, and she lifted her head. “Honestly, I thought about it, but dragons aren’t for us to use. I felt its essence, and this is a creature that should never be tamed. We’ll find another way.”
Though she would miss the wild glory of flight.
“Be free,” Nell told the hatchling, pointing to the sky. The beast arched its wings, looking skyward and back at her. It seemed uncertain of its ability to fly without her directing it, but Nell had no such doubts. Flying was what dragons were made to do.
Corbin looked at Nell with pride, his dark brown eyes glistening. He nodded at her.
“Go!” she shouted, slapping the hatchling’s flank.
The little dragon reared and took off, red wings swooshing gusts of musky wind on them as it rose. It roared, high-pitched compared to an adult but enough to raise goose bumps on Nell’s skin.
The healed hatchling flew off without looking back.
Corbin wiped tears from his cheeks. “But aren’t you the one always talking about having to be practical?”
She flushed. “Yes, but not like this. I’m the one who tainted the poor thing. My blood is toxic now.”
“You didn’t do this. The Dragon’s to blame,” Corbin said.
“And I found out who he is.” Her words sounded brittle to her own ears.
Everyone exclaimed, but Corbin cut them off. “First, we need to get away from here. Back toward to the highest mountain, to the sword. We’ll set up camp and talk. The news can wait.”
She replied, “Agreed. But you should know―there was a moment in there when he was making sense to me. His power pulled at me, made me want to give in.”
She hung her head in shame.
Corbin ran his hand down her braid. “You’re stronger than a dragon; you’ve kept him from breaking you all this time. Now that you know what his power feels like, you’ll be able to resist it. No one can hold the line like you can. Now let’s go.”
She didn’t know what to say. She stole a glance at her palm; a deep red spread from the skin like decay. The voice inside her was doing the real guarding, and she feared they were both losing this battle.
Nell didn’t want to steal Corbin’s hope, though, so she kept the words to herself and closed her hand into a fist. If they knew he’d cut her again, Micah and Tristan would no doubt offer a healing, but they’d already given all they could spare to the hatchling.
Queenie, Grace, and a flurry of their agitated wee fairies surrounded Nell just then, squealing and dancing as they had in the sky. A sensation of deep love covered her, and she leaned into the hope that came with it. Shane’s magic might have left a stain, but she’d been marked by another magic long before his.
ell’s burst of positive emotions faded as they hurried along. She kept shuffling through her memories of Shane, searching for an explanation of why he’d turn evil. How could this madman be the same person who had taught her so well those years ago? Her very soul ached, draining her already worn-out body.
They finished setting up their new camp, as far from the lair as they could travel until the darkness was too thick to see through. The fairies helped light the camp enough for them to tie down the tent and unroll the sleeping bags. Nell missed their second tent, just to have some room to think alone, but she had a report to make.
They huddled inside. Corbin leaned forward. “First of all, I’m so glad you are okay. We all are. I want to say we never doubted you for a moment, but let’s just say, please don’t do that to us again, okay?” He squeezed her hand.
“Trust me―being snatched is definitely not on my list of things to do. And I was just as worried about all of you.”
“Okay. Now. How did you know him? Who is the Dragon?”
“He showed me his face. The Dragon is the sword master who taught me in Port Iona when I was fourteen. Shane McConnell.”
Sierra and Corbin gasped. “I thought he was dead,” Sierra said.
“Who is this Shane?” Micah asked.
Tristan and Phoebe also looked blank.
Sierra bit her lip, glancing at Nell before continuing. “Shane was with Bentwood’s crew, but trained Jack’s advanced crew members in weaponry.”
“Like Nell?” Phoebe asked.
Nell answered, “He worked with me when I was fourteen, yes. For a few months.”
“So it’s personal,” Micah said.
“You could say that. I saw him as a role model.” Nell mashed her lips into a line. For a lone female in a rough all-male crew, the chance to work with someone so talented who treated her as a true peer had been empowering. That’s my girl, he’d said when they’d last fought at Port Iona. The comment made a lot more sense now.
Sierra explained further, “He was smarter than Jack, stronger than Bentwood, and they all knew it. They bragged they’d gotten rid of the upstart before he could cause any problems, but I guess they lied to keep people from getting any ideas about escaping.”
Shivering, Nell said, “Shane’s smart, all right. A genius, and he’s got a dozen dragon eggs ready to hatch.”
She ignored the oaths and gasps. “Not only that, he’s turning poor little snow sprites into monsters, robbing them of their magic in the most perverse form of dark alchemy. That’s what sent the storm to us, those were the faces I saw in the storm and that Micah and Tristan sensed. As air elementals, they can spy for Shane anywhere, slipping past doors and through windows like thieves. He’s got other creatures in there, too, firebirds and a griffin he’s drained and changed.”
“So this Dragon is a stronger foe than we feared,” Tristan noted.
The memory of the promising young man made her heart hurt, not with smoldering anger, but with a pulling loss. Such a waste. “Don’t call him the Dragon. The name’s part of his delusion. Shane’s just a man, though a really powerful one.”
“You’re lucky to have escaped,” Micah said.
She nodded. The thin slice along her palm was already scabbing over, but the deep redness spreading from the cut was darker and wider. His contamination was moving faster.
“I know it’s a long shot, but is there any chance you could still convince him to stop?” Phoebe paused. “You said you had a good relationship once, yes?”
“He’s nothing like the man he was. I don’t even understand how he changed so much.”
The words weren’t quite true. In the cold place inside her, she was beginning to understand how such a change could happen. After all, she’d been caught up in the rush of riding the dragon, too. She’d been tempted to use the hatchling for her own purposes, if only for a brief moment. She’d even relished the thought of Shane’s defeat and imagined a host of ways to kill him. The similarities scared her more than anything yet.
“People change for lots of reasons, some they don’t understand for themselves,” Corbin said.
She couldn’t share her deepest fears, but anger, a long habit, easily leapt off her tongue. “It’s not like he’s just changed cloaks. He’s taken over the home of the guardians. His stronghold used to be another temple like the one in Port Iona. That’s why it’s on their map. He’s twisted their knowledge and power into a perversion. As sad as I used to be when I thought he had died, I wish he had. Now, I have to kill him.”
“Nell, you don’t have to kill anyone,” Corbin said, gently.
“You didn’t see what he’s doing. I have to try.”
Sierra shook her head. “You said when we left Port Iona you couldn’t defeat him without the sword. Has anything changed since then?”
Nell cursed. Nothing had changed, and everyone knew it. She gritted her teeth and rubbed her hand along her ribcage, hunching as another pang raced from her heart to her fingertips.
“More to the point,” Corbin said, eyebrows lowering, “why are you in pain? And don’t lie―I can see it written all over your face. Is it the poison from Shane? Has it grown worse?”
“I don’t know,” Nell replied. It was most certainly his toxic touch spreading through her, but they’d either get to the Tree and sword in time, or they wouldn’t.
“It looks like he cut you again today,” Tristan said, jerking his chin toward her wounded left hand. The mottled skin around the cut looked like a shadow in the light of the fairies.
She clenched her hand tighter. She should have put her gloves back on. This news would only distract them.
“He cut you again?” Corbin’s voice spiraled up.
“Just a little,” Nell muttered.
Everyone stared, but she didn’t open her hand.
Corbin asked, “What if his sword was contaminated not with just poison, but a different kind of magic? You said he had all kinds of vials in there.”
“Even if it is,” Phoebe said in a soothing tone, “if the sword can free those poor snow sprites, the dragons, and all the others, it’ll heal you, too, Nell. That’s what the voice said, right?”
Nell nodded. “But in the
meantime, those creatures are having their life energy stolen from them.”
“We do not have the right kind of magic to counter Shane’s. We cannot even heal Nell fully and only could heal the hatchling because it had not been poisoned by him directly. In a fight for the creatures’ souls, we will lose every time,” Micah said.
Nell wished she could pace. “Before it disappeared, the voice told me his magic was the same as mine, but his was twisted, dark. The red and silver light that came out of the sprite―Shane absorbed it, almost like drinking it in. And the magic of the little dragon sought me out the same way, even without me doing anything on purpose. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”
“Let me see the book,” Corbin said urgently. He dug through Sierra’s bag until he found the ancient codex he’d been reading and rereading. He flipped to the back page with the map and stared hard at the hand-scribbled message. Grace flitted to his shoulder and landed.
“Corbin?” Sierra asked.
“I’m thinking. We know there’s magic of the earth and sea. Maybe Shane isn’t corrupting either of those into something unrecognizable, but he’s twisting a new and different magic altogether. One of the air and sky? That would explain Shane’s obsession with flying creatures. I’m so close to figuring out the code to translate these words, they’ve got to hold the key…” His voice drifted to a mutter as he ran his fingers along the page, eyes trained only on the words.
Sierra said to Nell, “That makes sense. And maybe holding the voice inside you allows you to control this other magic, too.”
Micah added, “Or maybe they shared their magic with you, like wet ink pressing from one page into another. A permanent change.”
Nell shuddered. She’d hoped for freedom from this life of magic when things settled down, away from the eyes of the public. If she couldn’t be a warrior, she’d at least have a quiet, honest life that helped others. A life with the boy she loved.
