Into a Dragon's Soul: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (Chronicles of the Four Book 3)

by Marissa Farrar

  “I don’t know.” Orergon looked out over the grasslands. “When that wind comes in, it has been known to last a day or more.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t the wind,” she suggested. “Maybe it was something else.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The air changed again, and the hairs stood up on her arms, and the back of her neck prickled. She looked to the others. “Can you feel that?”

  They all stood stock-still, on hyper-alert. It was impossible to run from something that was invisible.

  Dela looked out across the grasslands. In the distance, the long grasses moved in a wave, bending as some unseen force rushed across it toward them. “Can you see that?”

  Vehel nodded. “Yes, I can see it.”

  “Me, too.” Warsgra agreed.

  “If it reaches us, there’s no saying what we might end up doing.” Orergon looked between them. “We need to run.”

  Warsgra snatched up her hand, and before she’d even managed to get her thoughts together, she was running. Her feet pounded the ground as they raced to the opposite side of the hill and then down the other side. Her breath tore in and out of her lungs, the blood pounding in her ears. Where were they even going? They were running from an invisible thing and had no idea how fast it could move.

  She dared to look behind her. They’d left Steppe’s Mound behind them, and, with horror, she realized they’d left the egg as well.

  She ground to a halt, Warsgra still trying to pull her along. “We have to go back! The egg!”

  “No, we can’t,” he growled. “It’s too late now. The egg will be fine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  The wind was getting closer. She could see its movement across the long grass, whipping the blades flat. Could it harm the dragon egg? Affect the baby dragon inside? She thought it was unlikely, but the wind might be able to make her do something that would harm the egg.

  Warsgra pulled on her arm. “We have to go, Dela.”

  She gave a cry of despair, already feeling as though she’d let the dragon down, but allowed Warsgra to pull her. She owed the dragon egg her protection, but she also owed Warsgra and Vehel and Orergon protection, too.

  “What about your magic?” she cried to Vehel. “Can’t you fight it with magic?”

  “I don’t know any spells that can stop a wind,” he replied, looking back at her with sorrow in his light blue eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t his fault. She could hardly expect Vehel to fix every challenge they came across.

  Orergon gestured with his hand. “Keep moving! We need to stay ahead of the Foehn.”

  The wind was getting closer. It would reach them soon, blasting them in hot air, and then what would happen? Would they lose their minds, and be found, wandering incoherent, somewhere on the Vast Plains? Or would they be found dead, and no one would ever know exactly what had happened to them?

  They kept running, but already Dela’s legs had started to tire, her lungs burning. She didn’t think she’d be able to run for much longer.

  A little voice called out from the grasses. “Here! Psst! Over here!”

  Dela slowed. Was she hearing things again?

  The voice came again. “Quick! What are you waiting for?”

  Hidden among the grasses, a wooden hatch had been swung open, and a small head poked out. The creature was clearly male, his nose pointed with whiskers pointed out either side of his cheeks. Thin lips covered a pair of long incisors.

  “Get down here if you want to save your minds.”

  She looked to the men. All three looked as baffled as she was.

  “Come on,” the creature insisted. “What are you waiting for?”

  There was nothing ahead of them, no place to hide. Her legs trembled with exhaustion, and she could barely catch her breath. It didn’t look as though they had many choices.

  Chapter 14

  Dela

  Not giving herself time to think any further, she lunged for the little trap door. Seeing she was coming, the creature who’d beckoned them down vanished from the hole, sinking deeper into the ground. The hole the trap door had revealed was going to be a squeeze for someone Warsgra’s size, but she could fit down it easily enough. She jumped, feet first, landing in a dirt-filled tunnel.

  “Dela!” Vehel’s voice chased her.

  “Hurry!” she called back.

  Their rescuer stood to one side, and she shot him a nervous, grateful smile as Vehel landed with a thud. He quickly clambered out of the way, and seconds later Warsgra’s feet appeared, the gap more of a squeeze for him. Both Dela and Vehel went to his rescue, pulling him down until he eventually popped, like a cork in a bottle. Orergon was the last to jump down, just as the wind passed over them, howling across the gap. The little man pushed past them and reached up to grab a rope that was attached to the hatch. He pulled it shut with a bang, enclosing them underground.

  The wind sounded like a stampede of hoofed animals as it rushed above them, taking hold of the hatch, banging and shaking it like a living thing that was furious it had been thwarted and now demanded to come in. The wood rattled and clattered, and Dela stood, rooted to the spot, her eyes wide as she stared up at it, certain the whole thing would be yanked off its hinges and tossed away. Then they’d all be sucked out of this tunnel, and who the hell knew what would happen to them after that.

  But, miraculously, the hatch held. The wind didn’t abate, continuing to tear across the grasslands. Dela’s thoughts went to the egg. How had she managed to leave it behind? It might have survived a hundred or more years, but would it survive this? She felt sick with worry. How would the dragon react when he found out they’d abandoned his baby?

  There was nothing more she could do from down here.

  Tearing her thoughts away from the egg, she turned to discover where they’d ended up. They were in a tunnel, barely big enough for Warsgra to fit in, though he did, hunched over and not looking too happy about it. Small oil lanterns were attached to the walls at intervals, lighting the way.

  The wind continued to howl and whistle above them.

  “What is this place?” she asked their rescuer.

  “It’s home,” the little man with the whiskers said. “Now, come along. You’ll be far more comfortable down here.”

  They didn’t have much choice but to follow, though they each exchanged wary glances. Dela thought Orergon might have a better idea of who this was, as this was his homeland, but when she lifted her eyebrows in a question, the Moerian simply shrugged.

  “What’s your name?” she asked the little man tentatively. Was it rude to also ask what he was?

  “Atticus,” he replied.

  “I’m Dela,” she told him.

  “I know who you are.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t know how to react to that. Had the little creature overheard one of the men calling her by her name? “And,” she hesitated to ask, “what exactly are you?”

  Atticus tutted. “Do they teach you nothing these days? I’m a Duende.”

  “A Duende?”

  “Yes, we’re known by other names as well—pixie, or goblin, or brownie, or leprechaun—but none of them are correct.”

  “A Duende? I’ve never heard of you before.”

  “You’ve heard those other names, though?”

  “Yes, but only in stories.”

  “Well, as you can see, we live down here, so we don’t have much reason to get involved with the likes of you giants.”

  The word surprised a laugh from her. “We’re not giants. We’re normal sized.”

  “To you, you might be. But to us you’re most certainly giants.”

  “Why did you save us?” Orergon asked, his brow drawn down in a frown.

  “Word is getting around that we have a Dragonsayer in our midst. We might live down here, but that doesn’t mean we don’t see things. We have eyes everywhere, and we saw that dragon of yours. Then I heard the Foehn wind come up, and I thought we couldn’t lose the Dragonsa
yer like that.”

  “Thank you,” Dela said. “We truly do appreciate it.”

  It was strange to think word of her was spreading. She’d given thought to the main races and how they’d play their part in taking Xantearos back, but she hadn’t considered all the other creatures who lived here. Just like the Fae they’d met in the north, there were plenty of other species who kept themselves to themselves and had no wish to try to rule anything.

  The tunnel opened up into a wider space. It was circular, and sitting in a little chair on the other side of the room was a female Duende.

  She looked up as they walked in. “You found them, then?”

  “Yes, just in time, too. The Foehn almost got them.”

  She tutted. “Nasty business, that Foehn.”

  “This is my wife, Alyce.”

  Dela nodded in the direction of Atticus’s wife. “It’s nice to meet you, Alyce.”

  The female Duende sniffed. “Can’t say we get many of the likes of you down here. Make sure you don’t break anything.”

  They looked around awkwardly. Everything in the little hole appeared to have been scavenged and then built into other things—pieces of broken mirror had been placed into a wood surround of off-cuts, and hung on the wall with a piece of string. It was hard to move without fearing they would knock something over, or crush something underfoot. The chairs were created from sticks, with some kind of natural stuffing for the cushions, and pieces of mismatched material used to cover them. It occurred to her that the Duende’s clothing was the same—a mismatch of different patchworks of various materials, from fur, to leather, to cotton. There was reason she hadn’t seen or come across the Duendes before, and it wasn’t just that she’d spent her whole life behind the tall walls of Anthoinia. The Duendes lived by stealing what they needed, and so it made sense for them to go unnoticed. Someone couldn’t catch them for stealing if they didn’t even know they existed.

  “Let me get you folks something to eat and drink.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Vehel said, waving his hand and almost knocking over a vase that looked as though it used to be a thimble. “Honestly.”

  “Not at all. We don’t often have guests, do we Alyce?”

  Alyce pursed her lips over her two buck-front teeth, not looking the slightest bit impressed with their visitors or her husband’s antics.

  A little door led off into another room, and Atticus vanished through it, leaving the four of them with Alyce, who simply ignored them and carried on with the knitting she was doing, using two sewing needles as knitting needles and a ball of unraveled thread. She sniffed with her long nose, and her lips twitched.

  Dela exchanged a glance with the others and pulled a face.

  “How long does the Foehn normally last?” she asked Orergon in a whisper, wanting to get out of there for more than one reason.

  Orergon shrugged. “Could be an hour, could be three days. It’s impossible to tell.”

  “Three days?”

  She thought they might all go mad anyway if they were trapped down here together for three days. They wouldn’t need the wind to help them. She worried about what was happening on top. What about the dragon? She assumed he’d be able to fly high enough to avoid the wind. She could try to use the Dragonstone to connect with him, but she worried he would put himself in danger and try to help her. What would have happened to the different tribes that were on their way to meet her, too? Would they have been affected? It felt as though every step forward she was making, something was always there to push her back again.

  “How localized is this thing?” she asked Orergon. “Is it going to be affecting most of the Vast Plains?”

  She was relieved when he shook his head. “No, it’s very localized. If we traveled a few miles away from here, we would probably have escaped it.”

  An idea came to mind, just as Atticus came bustling back in with a tray of tiny cups and pieces of something that looked like roasted root vegetables on a tray. “Here we are,” he declared. “Help yourselves, everyone.”

  It would have been rude not to, but Warsgra looked hilarious picking up the tiny cup between his thumb and forefinger. The amount of liquid it contained would barely be enough to wet his tongue.

  Dela helped herself to her own cup and took a sip of the liquid which was hot and sweet. She looked down into the small clay cup to see that sip had been most of the contents.

  Atticus watched her drinking, nodding with pleasure. “Good, yes?” He pushed a piece of the baked vegetable into her hand. “Try this.”

  She took a nibble and discovered it was tasty, too, somehow sweet and salty at the same time. “It’s delicious, thank you.” She widened her eyes at the others to make them try some, too, and the men all followed her lead, helping themselves to the tiny portions of food.

  She remembered her idea. “Atticus, how far do these tunnels go?”

  “How far? Oh, they go all over.”

  “Could they get us past the wind, to an area that’s not been affected?”

  “Well, I don’t know. That all depends on how far the wind is ranging.” His lips pulled back over his bucked teeth as he thought, his long nose wrinkling. “But I suppose as long as you don’t mind crawling through tunnels for a while, we could try. It might be a waste of time, though. You could stay here quite comfortably, and the wind will stop on its own after a time.”

  Dela looked to how both Warsgra and Orergon—but particularly Warsgra—were crouched over in the small space and wondered just how comfortable they’d really be if they ended up having to spend more than a couple of hours down here. Besides, Atticus’s wife kept exhaling long sighs of irritation and moving things out of their way each time one of them shifted to try to get more comfortable. Dela might be a Dragonsayer and the next ruler of Xantearos, but Alyce the Duende wasn’t impressed at having her in their hole.

  “Aye,” Warsgra nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

  She looked to the other two. “Orergon? Vehel? What do you think?”

  “Agreed,” Orergon said. “If we can get beyond it, we can warn others.”

  “Let’s hope it will have ended by that point.” Dela didn’t like the idea of leaving the egg for so long.

  “Very well,” Atticus said, putting down his tray. He looked disappointed that his visitors were leaving so soon, but they couldn’t possibly stay all cramped up like this for hour after hour. “We can get to the other side of the tunnels this way.” He pushed past them all to head back the way they’d just come.

  “Lovely to meet you, Alyce,” Dela told the wife.

  Alyce just gave another sniff and lifted her head in what Dela took to be a nod of acknowledgment, but could just as easily have been Alyce pointing out the way back into the tunnels, probably happy to see them go.

  Dela was relieved to go, too. She didn’t know how far they’d have to travel in the tunnels before they passed the area the wind was affecting, or if the wind would die off of its own accord, but she would rather be moving than all squashed in together. Besides, she was anxious to get back to the dragon egg. She was furious with herself for not thinking to pick it up when they ran. She’d never forgive herself if something had happened to it, and what would the dragon do? She’d won his trust by giving him the egg. If the egg was lost or damaged, would she lose that trust again?

  She hoped for Warsgra and Orergon’s sake that they wouldn’t have to spend too long in the tunnels. Atticus was only about three feet tall, and the tunnel roof was only another couple of feet higher. Both she and Vehel had to bend as they followed the Duende down the tunnels, but Orergon and Warsgra both had to stoop right over, and the position couldn’t possibly be comfortable.

  Still, no one made any complaints. The wind continued to pummel the ground above. Whatever their discomfort, it was far preferable to be down here than up there.

  They kept going, with Atticus leading the way and chattering almost non-stop. Dela answered a few of his questions, but
most of the time it seemed he was quite happy just to talk instead of actually expecting a response. They stopped to rest a couple of times, giving them time to stretch out and shift positions before continuing.

  They met a crossroads a number of times, but Atticus seemed to know exactly where he was going. There were other hatches as well, but, even though they’d been traveling for a while now, the hatches continued to rattling and bang with the force of the wind above.

  Dela tried not to think how far the wind might have spread, and pushed down her rising sense of claustrophobia. She suddenly yearned for the cozy hole they left Alyce in, and wondered if they’d made the right choice to leave. How long would they be traveling down these tunnels? It had made sense to try to get past the wind when they’d been in the hole, but now she was faced with just how many hours they might have to spend down here, she was doubtful of her choice.

  She could go, connect to the dragon, and mentally be out of the tunnel and flying high, but she didn’t know how much use she’d be to the others if she did that. Plus, it would be a selfish thing to do. The others were in more discomfort than she was, being bigger. She would suffer this alongside them.

  They passed beneath another hatch.

  “Listen!” Atticus ground to a halt right in front of her.

  She stopped as well, and so did the others behind her, a couple giving yells of annoyance and surprise.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I can’t hear the wind.”

  She listened hard, her breath held. He was right. “Do you think we’re past it now?”

  “Either that or it’s over.”

  She looked back to the others. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a risk,” Vehel replied, “but it’s one we’re going to have to take eventually.”

  “I just want to get out of here,” Warsgra growled.

  “I’m with Warsgra,” Orergon said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Atticus got to work, unraveling the rope that held the hatch door shut from a hook on the tunnel wall. There wasn’t enough room for any of them to push their way forward and help him, but he seemed confident in what he was doing. He placed both hands against the underneath of the hatch, and, with a groan of exertion, pushed.