“I know what the cyclops meant.” His voice filled with awe.
No time to respond since the zombies pressed too close for comfort. I shoved, and I slashed, but I couldn’t hold them back much longer.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I grunted, impaling a zombie on my claws.
“Then I need you to let me in.”
Let him in? I didn’t even know what that meant, but suddenly we were plastered chest to chest and his hands ringed my neck. My arms flailed trying to keep the zombies from getting him, panic rising.
Warmth spread through my body, suddenly radiating from where Quinn touched me.
“Wha—”
“Do you accept me?” Quinn’s fingers made my neck tingle, not quite painful, but also not quite pleasurable. “I need you to say you accept me.”
I lashed out at another zombie, this one’s mouth coming too close to Quinn for comfort.
“Say it, Twig!”
“Dammit, I accept you.”
And then excruciating agony stole anything else I might have said.
16
For a moment everything seemed to stop. The universe, the zombies, even my heart. Suspended in time.
Then it all sped up, my body flailing, a pain so great I must be dying. I fell to the ground, covering Quinn, protecting him as best I could, even as I thrashed helplessly, screaming from the blinding pain.
Had I been bitten? Was this what it felt like to die? My skin tore, my bones cracked, my body swelled. I roared in agony until fire shot from my mouth, the bones of my face splintering and reforming into a huge snout.
Holy hairy hydra balls! I was a dragon!
Lumbering to my feet, I teetered for a moment before gaining my legs. I stretched to my full height, towering over the puny gaggle of dead flesh.
Zombies burned and fell before me. I roared again. This time in triumph. My dragon freed at last. Taking a great breath, I spread fire, burning all those in front of me, watching them go up like tinder. I bellowed the ancient war cry of my people.
My tail thrashed, knocking down undead creatures like a knife through butter.
“Twig! Listen to me.”
I gnashed my teeth. Who dared speak my name? I would grind their bones into dust, I would burn them to ashes, I would . . .
“Twig, please, I need you.”
I blinked. I recognized that voice. Quinn’s voice. My mate. My head swiveled on my long neck, searching for him. Where was he? Had those foul creatures harmed him?
“Down here.” A hand brushed my front leg. “Pick me up. I need to ride on your back.”
If it had been anyone other than my mate asking, I would have chewed him up and enjoyed every bite. A dragon wasn’t a horse. But this was Quinn and he wouldn’t insult me. Not on purpose at least. Besides, it would keep the zombies from reaching him.
Ducking my now-massive head, I lowered it to the ground. He vaulted onto my neck, one arm cradled against his chest. Had he been hurt? Had I hurt him?
I lifted him carefully, my desire to keep him safe at war with my desire to burn these woods to the ground. Once he settled on my shoulders, he began chanting and a red glow surrounded us before shooting its way outward in a swirling burst that lit up the entire swamp. Little dots of red ate away at the mist, and within seconds we could see our surroundings.
There were still hordes of zombies to be destroyed and I set to it. None would escape my jaws, claws, or tail. I would see to it they all paid dearly for attacking my mate.
Quinn clung to my neck as I made short work of Burningwood’s army. I smashed and I chomped, I crushed and I clawed, and I spit fire until only a charred pile of body parts remained. So much for Burningwood’s puny little army.
Turning in a circle to make sure all zombies were destroyed, I chuffed, damn proud of myself. I was a dragon! A dark blue and black one if my eyes didn’t deceive me. Still scrawny by dragon standards, but my fierceness more than made up for that.
Quinn patted my neck and I preened under his touch. He muttered calming words, complimenting my ferocity, my strength. I turned my head so I could watch him, my mate. Mate, mate, mate.
“Hey, big guy, I need you to calm down.” Quinn reached a hand toward my snout and I carefully brought it within his reach, my nostrils still steaming from all the zombie roasting. When he stroked my muzzle, my tongue lolled out and my eyes rolled back in my head. He chuckled.
“You’re magnificent.” He continued to stroke me, his eyes full of wonder. “And you’re mine.”
Well, at least we agreed on something. I pushed harder into his hand and he almost toppled off my shoulders. Oops. Didn’t know my own strength yet. Sorry, I thought.
“It’s okay, Twig. I know you didn’t mean it.” He smiled, his eyes bright, but by the way he held his arm, I could tell something was wrong with him. Wait. Did he know what I said?
“Yeah, I hear you,” he said aloud. Then he thought, We have a mental link. I’ve heard it happens between a wizard and their familiar, though I’ve always been told it’s more of an exchange of images. Then again, since you can shift to a more human form, and are obviously more complex than a regular familiar, it makes sense.
He babbled away and I tried to keep up with his thoughts. A familiar? I was a familiar?
Which would make him…
A wizard.
While this should have been patently obvious when he’d cleared the mist with his spell, in this form I was more single-minded and in this case had been focused on destroying every last zombie in Burningwood’s arsenal.
“That’s right, Twig. I’m a wizard. A wizard.” His voice came out choked with awe. I knew just how he felt. I had lots of questions, but when he tried to gesture excitedly with both hands and flinched, I let go of that train of thought and focused on his injury.
“I’m okay,” he said, probably not even needing to read my mind to see where my attention centered.
Did I do this to you?
“Not on purpose. You saved me, Twig. Kept me safe.”
I hurt you. I spun my head away from him and roared to the sky.
“Whoa, you’re going to throw me.” Quinn gripped a spine on my neck and held on. “It’s okay. You were thrashing around when you changed. It’s no big deal. If you hadn’t shifted we’d be dead. Or at least I would be.” He shivered.
I wanted to rage against the pain of hurting my mate.
I’d hurt him.
I’d also saved him and could believe Quinn’s words, but it didn’t dull the ache in my chest from the pain I’d caused.
He patted my neck, trying to console me, his touch soothing.
“Let’s go get Brandsome’s horn and then we can deal with everything else.” His voice held a strange note of trepidation.
Was he scared of Burningwood? I’d protect him. If she even looked at him wrong, I would crunch her up, Alphae rules be damned.
“I know you would,” he soothed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s been enough bloodshed for the day.”
That was debatable.
He gave me a playful slap.
“Bloodthirsty dragon.” He said it with affection in his voice and I preened again. “You dropped your knapsack when you shifted. We’ll need it.”
Trotting over to it, I snatched it in my jaws and passed it to him.
Now that Quinn had dispelled the mist, we could both see the path clearly. It wound through the swamp seeming to float on top of the marshy water, so narrow in certain parts that I’d have difficulty staying on it. Then again, I could ford the swamp if need be. I couldn’t imagine a bigger predator in the water than me.
Or perhaps I could fly? I didn’t even consider that. I raised my head and peered over Quinn’s head. My eyes widened.
I had effing fairy wings.
Delicate, and a deep midnight blue with black sparkles. Seriously? I huffed. What kind of dragon had enormous, sparkly fairy wings? If I could have blushed I would have. Quinn turned to s
ee what I stared at.
To give him credit, he didn’t laugh. I felt his amusement, but also concern, through our link.
“It makes you unique,” he offered.
I grunted, a puff of smoke swirling from my nose. I fluttered my wings experimentally. I looked like an oversized butterfly.
“It’s not that bad. You’re still the fiercest dragon I’ve ever seen.”
I sighed. I’m sure he’d seen oh-so-many of us.
He shrugged, the gesture guilty as a harpy in a henhouse. I knew it. I was the only one he’d seen.
“Even so, you’re still plenty fierce. You took out a zombie army. That’s no small feat.”
Yeah, sure, flatter me. Any normal dragon would laugh hysterically if they saw my cute little wings.
“Twig, you’re so much more. Who’d want to be average when you can be extraordinary?” The way he looked at me, like I hung the moons, calmed me a bit.
Okay, so my wings were weird. I flapped them again. The movement was awkward, completely different than the way normal dragon wings functioned. In time, I might get the hang of it. Could I even fly with them? They seemed too delicate to lift my bulk.
Time later to think on all of these other things. We had a sprite to deal with.
Continuing along the trail, I ate up the distance, craning my neck to see above the sparse tree cover. Rumors didn’t prepare me for it. The bleakness of it all; the trees gnarled and misshapen, their bark bleached white. Even the marsh itself seemed unnaturally still, with no sounds of wildlife to be heard as we stepped along the path. Eerie. And sad. What would make a sprite turn to sucking the vitality and life from things?
“The Waters of Ashondrea. She drank from them.”
I startled. Everyone knew the Waters of Ashondrea destroyed one’s soul. The small pool was rumored to be somewhere in Gloomshade Crater. I’d thought it must be a myth.
“No, it’s real. According to Krofom, Burningwood was obsessed with youth. The Waters are supposed to keep one eternally young—did you know that? I didn’t until Krofom told me. Anyway, she willingly gave up her soul for her youth. Or at least, that’s what he said.”
A stab of jealousy sliced me like a knife. Quinn had an in-depth conversation with Krofom. It hadn’t bothered me last night—much—but in this form it really pissed me off.
“Oh, stop. It was just talk. He was the only one who treated me like a person. He must have known I’m a wizard.”
Then Quinn giggled. An honest to goodness giggle. Like a little kid. The excitement and happiness he felt from this revelation rivaled my own thrill at finding out I could shift. I wanted to discuss this with him and how he knew I could do it, except now wasn’t the time. We’d get the horn, get his arm looked at, and then figure things out between us.
“Good idea.”
It wasn’t long before a large manor came into view. As we approached, the ground shifted around us and once again a horde of undead rose from the dirt, that weird green mist descending on us.
Giddy with my new found shape, I enjoyed savagely tearing every last zombie to shreds. I scorched the land in several places, lighting up groups of undead like a pyre. This was so much fun! Quinn didn’t sit it out, either. After a few incantations, the mist evaporated just like last time, leaving the zombies exposed. If I could have chuckled in this form, I would have. I did pull my lips into some semblance of a smile.
Quinn whooped as I stomped all over Burningwood’s guards, egging me on. It felt so good to let my dragon side reign supreme. I hadn’t even realized how much the Alphae restrictions bothered me until now. I mean, the other guilds weren’t required to stick to our inflated moral standards unless they ran afoul of the High Council. Otherwise, they had a lot more options. Besides, it wasn’t like I broke any rules. At the moment. First, they were attacking me, and second, they weren’t living creatures so I didn’t think the ‘do no harm . . . first’ motto applied to them.
Once Burningwood’s defense force lay in a smoldering heap, I roared in triumph. Quinn patted my neck again.
“Good—”
“Who dares enter Rottingvale?” a low, chilling voice said. “Who dares the wrath of Sahara Burningwood?”
17
I spun toward the voice and Quinn’s thoughts urged caution. Probably a good thing I couldn’t talk because I would have told her that Quinn and I dared . . . right before I crunched her up.
Perhaps it was better if Quinn did the talking.
Sahara Burningwood fluttered before us defiantly, a slip of a sprite, with long, flowing hair and skin smooth and unblemished, but also somehow unnatural and chalky. She didn’t look quite alive, and maybe without her soul she wasn’t. The effect was chilling—like she’d been cast in wax. She was no larger than Drutilda, though unlike Drutilda’s vibrancy and curves, she was gaunt, her wings a lusterless shade of white like the trees. Burningwood held a long gnarled staff carved at the top into the shape of a tombstone. Boy, did she know how to have fun.
I grumbled, let smoke pour from my nose. She seemed thoroughly unimpressed. Probably because of the wings.
“It’s not the wings,” Quinn whispered. I could practically feel him shake his head.
“You don’t scare me, dragon.” Burningwood’s voice carried over the eerie silence, a scratchy laugh conveying years way beyond her appearance and making the scales along my back quiver. I bared my teeth. Quinn’s calming hand rested on my neck and I pushed back against it. Fine, he could handle her. For now.
“We didn’t mean to intrude on your solitude, Ms. Burningwood. We—”
“If you didn’t mean to, you wouldn’t be here, wizard,” she pointed out in that creepy low voice.
“Uh, true, you make a good point. What I mean to say is that we’ve only come because we want to make an arrangement with you for the unicorn horn you received from Lapus Rainbowpebbles.”
She grinned, her skin pulling back from her face until the outline of her skull became clear. Creepy.
“An arrangement, you say?”
“Yes, that’s right.” Quinn shifted uneasily on my back.
“How unfortunate for you that I no longer have the horn.”
“You destroyed it?” I heard the sorrow in Quinn’s voice.
“Destroyed? No. Too valuable. I traded it.”
Can you sense it, Twig? Quinn thought.
I raised my snout and sniffed.
No, it’s not here, I replied. I sent my senses out further. Still nothing. Dammit.
“To whom did you trade it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Quinn kept his voice light.
“No, I don’t mind.” That weird grin again. “A fairy named Nyx Dapplepool.”
I snapped my teeth when I heard his name, a growl escaping my chest before I could rein it in. There wasn’t a fairy in the Elder I hated more than him.
“Easy, Twig.” Quinn soothed, picking up on my anger. “Well then, we’re sorry to have bothered you, Ms. Burningwood. We’ll just be going now.”
“I have never had a dragon nor a wizard in my army. Seeing as you destroyed my current crop, I’ll take your lives in payment.”
Before I could lunge at her, a bolt of magic shot from her staff. I roared when the spell hit me, a chill running over my skin before my thick hide bounced it back at her. She flew backward into a clump of withered foliage, disappearing in the undergrowth.
Huh, that was easy.
“Don’t count your sprites before they die,” Quinn admonished. “Look.”
Burningwood rose from the tangled vegetation, her face set in a scowl. “Let’s try that again.”
Another bolt of magic shot from her staff, striking me in the foreleg. A frosty tendril snaked over my skin before her magic rebounded and struck her down. Again. I did my best to snicker. It would take some practice in this form.
I could do this all day. What was that expression? Like shooting mermen in a cask?
Do you think since she’s attacked me, I can eat her now?
�
��I’d rather you didn’t. No use having to explain to the Alphae Guild—”
Quinn squawked as another zap of magic struck my neck, next to his perch. The bolt bounced and struck a gnarled tree that then crumbled to ash. A little too close to home for my comfort. I had protection, but no guarantee Quinn did. Damn. I couldn’t let her hit him.
Apparently she clued into my thoughts because she threw another burst of her dark powers Quinn’s way.
“Twig, you don’t need to worry—”
I dodged, but my jerking motions unseated Quinn. He tumbled from my neck and hit the ground with a thump.
Burningwood chortled with a breathy glee, her staff pointing where Quinn lay. I roared and charged her, my jaws gnashing as I reached for her. She fumbled her aim, then scooted beneath my belly, her ancient form surprisingly spry. I swatted her with my tail as she neared it. She sailed through the air like a ragdoll and right through a window into the manor. Ouch, that had to hurt.
Well, that should be that.
Rounding as fast as my bulky form allowed, I returned to where Quinn dusted himself off.
You okay?
“Gotta get a saddle or something.” His disgruntled voice was music to my ears.
A sudden bright yellow glow sprung from his hands. He caught and absorbed another volley from Burningwood that I hadn’t seen coming.
Burningwood stumbled from the building, a trickle of blood running down her cheek. She bared her teeth in that ghastly grin. She raised her staff and pointed it in our direction.
So over this.
I spit fire at her, engulfing her in flames.
She shrieked, but a wave of her staff extinguished the flames, left her in the middle of a thick patch of smoke.
The bitch refused to die. Maybe because she was mostly dead?
When the smoke cleared she looked a little more like melted wax than the young sprite she pretended to be. Satisfaction surged through me. I opened my maw to hit her again, but a hand on my leg stilled me.
“You should stop while you’re behind,” Quinn called out. “It’s only a matter of time before my familiar roasts you or you become a dragon snack. You get that, right?”
By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel Page 14
