by Lee Roland
“Maeve?” Raymond reached up and patted her arm.
Maeve heard the concern in his voice. He wanted her to like, or at least accept Flor, no matter how strange the situation. Maeve had lived around dragons all her life, but she didn’t pretend to understand everything. Instinct had always governed her connections with people or any other being. Instinct told her Flor was okay, Flor had done nothing wrong, but the ongoing events had shaken her usual confidence.
“It’s okay, Raymond.” Maeve tried to reassure him. “Flor and I can talk later. We’ll work it out.”
Flor drove across the desert with only needlepoint stars for illumination. Most magic creatures could see in the dark. Witches could not.
“Is your dark-sight a spell?” Maeve peered into the darkness around them.
“No. I see shapes in shades of gray. No spell. Can’t you see like that?”
“Elder witches, those that I know, don’t have dark-sight. We have witch-sight; we can see magic. Dark-sight requires a spell. I have to warn you; my spells are usually disasters.” Maeve didn’t want to discuss her magical shortcomings in detail.
“But you’re a witch. You bound a demon. Chaos you called him.” Flor sounded confused.
“I’m a witch. I have witch-sight. Except for dragons, though, I can’t read auras. That’s why I didn’t know you were a witch until you saw Harriet. You must read auras because you had no trouble spotting me.” A bitter truth for Maeve. Even the weakest of true witches had the power to read auras. The lack of that ability had troubled her all her life.
“Who’s Tana?”
“My grandmother.” She tried to choke the resentment down.
“What about your mother and father?”
“My bitch of a mother dumped me on Tana the day after I was born. I don’t know my father.” Maeve tried not to sound bitter. No witch had ever been required to identify her child’s father and many didn’t. However, they usually didn’t abandon their offspring like unwanted kittens. Birthrates were low in most of the witch families, and children were cherished.
The track Flor followed looked and felt like it hadn’t seen any traffic since the covered wagons crossed the arid land over a century ago. Raymond had to move several large boulders as they crossed a rocky ridge. It gave him a chance to show off his dragon strength, in human form. Maeve’s dark-sight might have been deficient for a witch, but her hearing wasn’t. A few miles past the rocks, the muted drone of four-wheel-drives drifted across the air.
“Flor, they’re behind us.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they could follow.” Flor increased their speed.
Maeve punched her hand with her fist. “Oh! Stupid! I should have had Raymond lift the rocks back across the road.” The land around them was flat and sandy now.
“Where do you live most of the time?” Flor asked. “Why did I find you at a truck stop?”
“I don’t live in any one place. I’m too restless. I like trucks. And a few drivers are special friends. I’ve seen a lot of the country.”
“Oh. I understand.”
Maeve faced the window, concentrating on the land before them. No, Flor didn’t understand. How could she? How could Flor understand the anxiety that drove Maeve, never letting her remain in one place for more than a few weeks? Her truckers were mostly friends and yes, on a couple of occasions, lovers. She wouldn’t speak of that until she knew Flor better.
She had to consider events, though. The luck and friendship that had carried her since she ran away from home deserted her three weeks ago, when a truck driver she’d known for years had suddenly became irrational and shoved her out in Portland, Oregon. After that, of all the drivers she knew, some for years, only a few were willing to take her on as a passenger. A few were kind enough to feed her, but most had walked away. It made little sense for them to act like that when they had tears in their eyes as they did. The drivers willing to give her a ride managed to steer her to the truck stop where Flor found her. It could not be a coincidence.
Flor sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask personal questions like that. Immal and my parents loved me, but I never had a dragon, harpy, or a witch for a friend…until now.”
The youth and loneliness in Flor’s voice and the blatant plea for friendship cut into Maeve. For Raymond’s sake, to show her trust in his choice, she’d already confided in Flor far more than she should—and received little in return.
The little witch drove up through a ditch and onto the highway pavement, before stopping. “There might be other cars on this road. I need to turn on the lights.”
Maeve jumped out, ran back, and snatched the plastic off the taillights. As soon as she climbed back in, Flor hit the gas again, and they raced away. At least they wouldn’t get rear-ended.
The SUV rolled across highlands and dry mesas toward northeastern Arizona. Flor’s precise driving transported them through dangerous swerves twice to avoid free-range cattle. On the crest of a hill, Maeve glanced back at headlights closing the distance. “They’re behind us.”
The SUV’s back glass shattered with a startling crash. Raymond yelped. Flor gasped and swerved.
“He’s all right,” Maeve said. Raymond held up a bullet that she knew came from a high-powered rifle. She forced herself to keep her voice steady. “Drive.”
Flor gripped the wheel tighter and leaned forward, her eyes intent on the road before them.
The bullet couldn’t injure Raymond in human form, but it did sting. He grunted and rubbed the skin. “I’ll take care of them.”
“No!” Maeve reached back and grabbed him. “They might have Dragon’s Bane.” Dragon’s Bane, a rare bush grown in tropical climates, could be deadly to a dragon like Raymond.
Raymond laughed. “Then stop, roll the windows down, and duck.”
Before she could tell him to take her clothes off first, Raymond opened the door and leaped out. It slammed shut behind him. Flor slowed and stopped the SUV. The automatic windows whispered and then slid down. She cut off the engine. Maeve tucked a grumbling Harriet under her legs and lay across the seat with Flor.
Raymond’s talons popped through the open windows, and the vehicle rocked, tilted, and lifted like a gas-filled balloon, suddenly set free. Then the only sound was the whistle of cold night wind through the open windows and the steady beat of wings.
Aerodynamically, dragons shouldn’t be able to fly, but when magic and logic collided, magic won every time.
Coral dawn outlined the earth’s rim as the mesas dropped away beneath them. Maeve reached up and placed both hands on one of Raymond’s smooth, solid talons.
“My friend,” he whispered in her mind.
“My friend,” Maeve answered.
She glanced over to see Flor watching her.
Flor sighed. “I’m dreaming. This is so fantastic it can’t be real.”
“Flor, people are shooting at us. How much more real can it get?”
Maeve remembered being in tight situations—situations far more dangerous. She’d had Harriet and Raymond then, and she had them now. She could handle this problem, too.
“Better set us down before we get too close to civilization,” Maeve called to Raymond.
No one could see him in dragon form, but a flying SUV would attract attention.
He lowered them to the side of a deserted road with the care of a mother placing her sleeping babe in a crib. The sound of wings whipped the air and tossed sand as he flew away.
“Where’d he go?” Flor asked.
“Probably back to eat a cow.” Maeve’s stomach grumbled. She wouldn’t mind a steak—preferably cooked. Free-range cattle would be a real treat for Raymond, though.
Maeve hugged Harriet from the sheer joy of being with her again. Greater magic than any witch could weave bound Maeve, Raymond, and Harriet. That’s how her friends had located her in the desert.
Her mother gave an infant Maeve to Tana like a bag of discarded clothing, tossed in the charity collection box. When Tana
brought her home, she’d found a harpy and a dragon on the front porch, waiting. According to Tana, Raymond held Maeve in his arms while Harriet kissed her tiny face. Tana spent most of Maeve’s childhood unsuccessfully trying to unravel the mystery of why the unusual pair came—and why they stayed to become constant childhood protectors and friends. Finally, Tana had given up and simply accepted the life long bond as a blessing, even if not knowing the source of the gift made her uncomfortable.
Maeve and Flor stood at the desert’s edge. The sun hadn’t pushed over the horizon, but the chilly night air warmed a little in anticipation of dawn. With the high mesas behind them, dry low-bush flatlands stretched for miles. The hour before sunrise transformed light and shadow into lavish brocade.
Harriet spread her wings, lifted off, and skimmed the desert floor. She circled once, then folded her wings and dropped. In a few seconds, she rose and began the pattern again.
Flor watched her. “What’s she…?”
“Mice. Mice and popcorn are her favorites. I stole a potion from Tana once and summoned a couple hundred field mice. Poor Harriet ate so many she couldn’t fly for two days.”
“How does she eat?”
“She tears it up with her talons then stuffs the meat in her mouth. She has a super effective digestive system. Doesn’t have to chew much, and her upper jaw protrudes a little. Sort of a miniature beak.”
As Flor watched Harriet, Maeve considered her dilemma. Who was Flor? A witch yes, but without the ability to read her aura, Maeve couldn’t judge her power.
Could the people chasing them be after Flor? Was Raymond her protection? What if…no…damn what if! Raymond had bound himself to this witch in an instant, and that binding would live beyond Flor or Maeve’s lifetime.
Dragons were the most intuitive of creatures, but the ability to assume a human shape did not a make a dragon human. Even the eldest of their kind, those who had flown over an ancient earth when men lived in caves, didn’t always understand certain human needs and idiosyncrasies.
Maeve glanced up to find Flor staring at her.
Flor smiled. A warm smile, but her eyes held something else—Immal’s eyes, midnight black and full of stars.
“Have you decided?” Flor asked softly. As she spoke the glitter in her eyes faded.
“Decided what?”
“If you can trust me.”
Maeve shrugged. “I trust Raymond.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
“That’s enough for me.”
A warm, luminous smile spread across Flor’s face. She lifted her hands, palms up. “By my name, my honor, and my life, I will never betray your trust.” She spoke formally and bowed her head. Her long straight hair fell like an ebony waterfall over her shoulder.
Maeve swallowed. Quite a vow—almost sounded like a binding. This wasn’t the time for cynicism, but she wondered if Flor was going to pull out a knife and cut their wrists to invoke a blood bond.
Flor threw her head back and laughed.
Maeve planted her hands on her hips. “What?”
“Nothing. Look.” She pointed to a flash in the midnight blue sky.
Raymond dove toward them. His velocity increased until he was a slender arrow, hurtling to earth. At the last moment, his wings unfurled like flags in the wind. The sun peeked over the horizon. His scales flashed like molten silver fire.
Flor gasped, and another brilliant smile touched her face. Maeve stared at her, then back at Raymond. Eighty feet long, horns, scales, eats whole cattle. For the little dark-eyed witch, love was spectacularly blind.
“How was breakfast?” Maeve asked Raymond after he changed shape.
“Tough. The cows had babies, so I ate the bull.”
Maeve glanced at Flor, but Flor was occupied with staring glassy-eyed at Raymond. Since his most recent transformation shredded the last of Maeve’s extra clothes and Flor’s were too small to fit him, the best they could do was a blanket. They could stop at a store in…where were they?
“Raymond,” Maeve asked, “which way did you fly?”
“Toward the sun…toward home.”
Chapter Three
Maeve carefully pulled the bag of popcorn out of the microwave and tore it open. She dumped fluffy white kernels on an empty pizza box while Harriet danced across the table in anticipation. “It’s hot,” she warned.
Earlier in the day, Flor had spent several hundred dollars on clothing and travel supplies in a discount store. Then she paid for a room in a motel close to I-40, in San Medio, New Mexico. By tomorrow night, they should be close to Tennessee.
“Okay guys, time to talk. No more excuses,” Maeve said. She’d finished a glorious hot shower, dressed, and tossed her old, ragged jeans and T-shirt into the wastebasket. The shoes followed. The new jeans, shirt, and shoes Flor purchased made her realize how scruffy she’d become.
“All we’re supposed to tell you is that there’s trouble, and Tana needs your help,” Raymond said. He laid on the bed with his head in Flor’s lap. Flor combed her fingers through his silver hair and let it fall like silken threads.
“She gave you the mind spell? Where I saw her and she talked to me?” That was odd under the circumstances. Tana was direct, but mind spells weren’t her usual method of remote communication.
Raymond rose on an elbow. “Tana said we couldn’t come home until you did.”
“She threatened to exile you?” Not Tana’s way at all. Exile for Raymond and Harriet meant death. Creatures of magic required the company of their own kind as much as they needed food and water. A powerful bond of life and complex relationships—magic knows magic. Little magic remained in the world outside Elder. Or at least that’s what Maeve thought until she met Flor. Maeve knew better than to push Harriet and Raymond too hard for information. She’d try to piece the puzzle together later.
“Wait,” Flor pleaded. “Tell me about you. Tell me who you are.”
“I suppose I should. You’re sort of family now.” Maeve sat down on the other bed. “Harriet, don’t eat all of that popcorn. If you get gas, I’ll make you sleep outside.”
Harriet ignored her.
“Okay, Flor, here’s a stripped down version of us and how we arrived in America—only it wasn’t America then. “Six or seven thousand years ago, when the Iameth lived on an island called Ataro, two sorcerers, Sorath and Piron, had a war. Everyone picked sides, and they fought for five hundred years or so. There are stories of the sky on fire and the earth dancing. Before they finished, they destroyed Ataro and wiped out seventy-five percent of the magic population. In the final battle, the Elementals created a tidal wave that crushed the island. You’ve probably heard the myth. Atlantis sinking into the sea.”
Flor nodded. “Who are the Elementals?”
“Four lesser beings below the Great Master—the Creator. Some call them demi-gods of magic. Our magic. Inaras is the Earth Mother, and Uriel’s dominion is fire. Tamiel is water and Merisin rules the air and wind. We call Merisin the Dragon Lord. He’s their patron. Inaras and Uriel are female entities, and Tamiel and Merisin male. Inaras holds the witches’ special power, and she’s the one we call on when we work a spell. The magic works, but Tana says no one’s ever seen an Elemental. Most witches no longer believe in them.”
“Do you?”
Maeve shrugged. “I haven’t seen one either, but I know better than to say never. Anyway, after the war, one of the dragons went out to harass Vikings, and a storm blew him way off course. He crash-landed in what’s now Tennessee. He found something there he liked. When he made it back, he spread the word and everyone packed up, moved to America and founded Elder. Five witch clans and the surviving dragons, harpies, ogres, demons and such, all immigrated.”
Harriet flew from the table to Maeve’s lap, and Maeve hugged her. “So that’s it. Except for the dragons, all Iameth alive today were born in Elder. Tana has five books in her library giving all the details, but I never got around to reading them.”
“You say
witches. Are they all women?” Flor leaned forward, her eyes bright.
“No. Witch is the collective word for both sexes. Sorcerer is a designation for the most powerful kind of witch. Superpowers in magic, but I don’t know any who are called sorcerers these days. We have five clans—Random, that’s mine and Tana’s, and then there’s Shadow, Thorn, Raven, and Skye. We have a set of laws called the Code of Ataro.”
For a moment, Maeve wondered if she should be describing Elder in such detail. On her thirteenth birthday and her official initiation into the clan, she’d taken the Oath of Silence. The Oath was required by the Code of Ataro. She was never to speak of home or magic to anyone who wasn’t of magic blood. Flor had magic blood, but where had it come from? Maeve’s only guide was Raymond, who had bound himself to Flor as if he waited for her all his life.
She reached down and pulled a small canister out of a bag. Harriet jerked and tried to escape, but Maeve was ready for her. “Come on, I saw you scratching.” She sprinkled the bug powder on and massaged it into Harriet’s feathers.
Flor watched her, curiosity on her face. “Harriet and Raymond are odd names for a dragon and a harpy.”
“I know, but it’s the best I could do when I learned to talk. Raymond’s given name is Rachmiadh. I still can’t pronounce Harriet’s.”
“You can’t pronounce Rachmiadh either,” Raymond offered. The name always sounded different coming from him.
Flor frowned. “You talk as if you don’t have any power, but I feel your strength.”
“I’m an Elder witch so, yes, I can use magic. I don’t know how it works with you and Immal, but our power manifests itself by the quantity and quality of magic we can draw, hold, and manipulate. Tana is the High Witch. The greatest magic in Elder is with her. Every time I try to use magic, it goes crazy and weird shit happens. I avoid it, always. That’s my fault though. If I had studied harder, let Tana teach me, it might be different.”
Maeve worked her fingers under the feathers on Harriet’s spine and gently scratched the skin. Harriet closed her eyes in ecstasy.
