by Lee Roland
Maeve had never been this far into the enormous caldera. Raymond and Yarrow had brought her to the edge, but no farther. They said poisonous gasses spewed from the ground at times, harmless to dragons, but lethal to witches.
Yarrow flew over the bubbling, hissing plain toward mountains higher than those he’d crossed before.
“Yarrow? Where are we going?”
“Dragon’s Lair.”
“I thought this was Dragon’s Lair.”
“It is but a small part.”
The dragon flew onward. His lungs heaved with thick gasps, and his aura reeked of agony.
“Merisin,” Maeve cried to the wind. “You made a stinking rock fly, damn it. How about a little help here?”
A wave of power struck her and Yarrow, buffeting them and sending him spiraling downward. What had she done? Would she ever learn not to call on powers over which she had no control?
Yarrow skimmed the hissing ground, and then began to climb again. He seemed to have gained strength.
They crossed the mountains and flew into an enormous rock bowl, a barren amphitheater, cut into a mountainside. Hundreds of caves pocked the yellow rock walls, overlooking the unnaturally flat floor.
“Yarrow?”
“Yes, Maeve.”
“I have been wrong about many things.”
Silent laughter shook his aura.
“You are a child, Sky Daughter. But you will grow.”
“Inaras called me Sky Daughter, too. So did Merisin. What does it mean?”
Yarrow didn’t answer. With a shallow dive, he made a rough landing on the amphitheater bottom, at the mouth of the largest cave.
She slid off his shoulders as he changed. The human form made fewer demands, but he still gasped for breath. He dropped to his knees, and then lay on his back.
Maeve knelt beside him. What next?
Andovar’s lifestone seemed a bit lighter now. Maeve cupped it in one hand while brushing Yarrow’s copper hair from his face. His breathing slowed.
She felt the dragon emerge from the cave behind her. She wasn’t afraid because she didn’t believe Yarrow would bring her into danger. She held her breath and gazed upward.
Yarrow and Andovar were massive, but the creature towering above her dwarfed them both. The image of Ryder’s rig flashed in her mind. Too small. The dragon’s presence, his incredible mass, defied words.
Magnificent, coal black with an occasional silver scale, he lowered his massive head to stare at her. She rose to face him and caught the scent of his breath, heavy with the burnt aroma of a banked fire. In the depths of his golden eyes, Maeve saw intelligence and the ancient wisdom of time before recorded time. She stood in the presence of the oldest living being in Elder and the world beyond. His shape shimmered as he changed and spoke to her.
“Greetings, Maeve. Welcome to Dragon’s Lair. I am Haven, last Dragon Master of Ataro.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Maeve bowed to Haven as she would have bowed to Tana when Tana was High Witch. The Dragon Master of Ataro. Another name out of myth and legend come to life like the Elementals. Haven had fought at Piron’s side when she battled Sorath to the island’s destruction. In Tana’s bedtime stories, he had been the Iameth’s hero, making exhausting trips to carry witches and others to safety in the island’s final days, when it became apparent that nothing would save their home.
“Come,” Haven beckoned her. “Your journey is not finished.”
Maeve knelt by Yarrow.
Yarrow smiled. “Go,” he whispered.
She followed Haven toward a rocky path leading up the side of the amphitheater. Gravel crunched under her feet, and the breeze carried the scent of sulfur.
They hadn’t gone far when he stopped at the mouth of a smaller cave. Haven reached out, and his fingers gently brushed Maeve’s hand.
“It’s heavy,” Maeve whispered.
He let out a long sigh. “It was once a splendid soul.”
“What happened?”
“Of the elder dragons who flew over Ataro, only three remained. Now we are two. Myself and Yarrow. Time weighs upon us, perhaps heavier on Andovar than we realized.”
He hadn’t answered her question. Dragons don’t lie. Rather than lie, they will not speak at all. Haven knew what had happened to Andovar, but he wasn’t going to tell Maeve.
Haven grasped her arm. “Your Raymond and the other dragons in Elder were born to the females who died after Ataro was destroyed. It was as if the destruction of our home cursed our mates—or perhaps Sorath cursed them as a final act of evil.”
He led her into the cave. “Forgive me that I bring you along this path, but I cannot fly from here.”
She stopped. “I don’t have dark-sight.”
He gave her an odd look. “No matter. I’ll lead you.” He grasped her arm.
Light receded behind them and Maeve, now blind, leaned close against Haven.
“Are you afraid?” he asked.
“I don’t want to fall. I might drop it.” No, she wasn’t afraid. The fear and horror of her lifetime lay in Sethos’ factory. She wiped tears from her eyes.
“For whom do you weep?” Haven’s words came with a gentleness she’d never heard from a dragon.
“Andovar and my people, Elder.”
“Your tears are my tears.”
The tunnel floor stretched on with unnatural smoothness. Someone, or creature, had burrowed a massive hole into the mountain. Andovar’s lifestone seemed lighter and warmed Maeve’s hands, all the while divulging his memories into her mind. With Haven holding her arm, leading her through the darkness, she allowed scenes from Andovar’s life to roll over her.
The air above the world, the clouds, and the island, all unfolded before her. Andovar flew around the mountain where hundreds of dragons stretched on rocky cliffs and lolled in the sun, occasionally lifting their imposing wings to catch cooling breezes off the ocean.
Andovar banked and soared toward a castle. Spires reached above the treetops with flaming torches mounted on each. He drifted down and landed in the courtyard.
Anticipation grew as he turned toward a door. Maeve waited, poised on the edge of an imminent catastrophic event. A key, a piece of the puzzle, anything to tell her…the door opened and—
“Stop it!” Haven shook her. His fingers clamped into her shoulders with predatory force.
Maeve gasped and drew Andovar’s lifestone close.
Haven released her and only the floor beneath her feet gave a sense of direction. All else was lost in a silent, coal-black void.
“Forgive me.” Haven had his hand on her shoulder again. “I did not mean to frighten you. You must not become lost in a dragon’s memory.” He relaxed his hands. “Danger lies there.”
“I wasn’t lost,” she shouted at him. Her voice spread out and then came back to her in a faint echo. While her mind wandered in time, the tunnel had opened into a cavernous room.
“Why did you do that? I was going to learn something important.” Something Haven didn’t want her to know.
Haven said nothing, and silence closed in. He gently tugged on her arm and led her forward again. A familiar shift came over. Like crossing the old Troll Bridge into Elder. They had passed into another world. The first haze of light materialized around them. They emerged from the tunnel.
Maeve gasped at the sight of a midnight blue sky so clear stars twinkled, although a coral sun hung above the horizon. She and Haven stood on a rock shelf above an ocean as white as ground fog in the Unicorn’s oak grove. He walked away from her and changed shape.
“I will carry you.”
Maeve went to him, climbed up his leg and onto his back. He lifted off and flew over the milky ocean at breathtaking speed. No gliding over the foamy waves for Haven. His great wings raked the air and forced them ever faster. She lowered her head and laid her face against his neck to protect her eyes from the lashing wind. A wind that whispered with Merisin’s voice. She had entered the Elemental’s home, the pla
ce where everything was his and his alone. Did the other Elementals each have a similar world? Oh, what a possibility.
Haven banked to the right, and Maeve lifted her head enough to see their destination. The island, like a giant’s hand made of stone, thrust from the white ocean’s depths. He landed on a pink sand beach and after he changed shape, led her toward a path up into the rocks.
She heard the rising sound of voices and strained to understand the words. There weren’t any. Strange and yet familiar, soft, but full of power, the song struck a chord, a harp string in her heart and resonated in her mind through every inch of her being.
Dragon Song.
Andovar’s lifestone vibrated in her hands. One step higher and Maeve stopped. Nothing in her life prepared her for what lay before her.
Like a whirlwind of fireflies, thousands of lifestones drifted in a ring around a flat diamond mosaic. In every imaginable color, they flashed and spiraled, tumbling with a gentle rhythm, defined by the song’s soothing chords.
Haven led her to the mosaic’s edge. “This is the Circle of Souls, a dragon’s beginning and end. You are his bearer. You must take him in.”
Haven’s aura had the feel of age and steady determination, not danger. Both alien and familiar, the circle and the song struck a primeval note, like a memory, hidden for years, ready to burst out and change her life forever.
The mosaic’s hundred-foot circle appeared to be too brittle to walk upon, but when she placed a foot upon the pattern, it was solid. The floating lifestones parted, and she walked into a rainbow of light. The song ceased, and silence quivered through the moving circle. As she neared the center, the strange world around her changed, and it seemed as if time had stopped, waiting on her to speak or take action.
Maeve held Andovar’s lifestone against her heart. It weighed no more than a teardrop now. She cupped it in her palms and stretched out her arms.
Nothing happened.
Andovar’s stone sat dark and dormant in her hands. She looked back at Haven. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “If they won’t accept him—”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“Perhaps they—”
“Perhaps, my ass. Don’t give me any more stupid excuses.” Maeve glared at the circling lifestones. “You said beginning and end. Inaras lets us start over again each time. Do dragons deserve less than that?” She shouted.
Maeve stomped off the mosaic, clutching Andovar’s lifestone tight against her heart. Maybe it would break under her feet. The whirling stones parted to let her out, and she rejoined Haven.
It seemed foolish to be angry. Andovar had betrayed Elder and his own kind, but love conquered reason, and Maeve’s love of dragons went beyond reason. Andovar had been a part of her life, a part of herself, and Sethos had corrupted him.
She glared at Haven. “I’ll take him to Tana. He’s like Chaos, Juju, and the others—like me. When there’s no place else to go, we’re home at Tana’s.”
Someone behind Maeve laughed. She whirled to find a bright light forming in the mosaic’s center.
“Your compassion is admirable.” A voice spoke from the light.
It had to be Merisin. She’d heard him that night on the Wandering Stone. Too bad. She’d spent enough time on her knees.
“Pardon me if I don’t fall down and worship this time, Lord Merisin. I’m tired of playing the game.”
“You consider it a game?”
“What else? We belong to the Elementals, and you shove us around like two-year-olds. An Elemental’s life must be boring if that’s all you have to do.”
Merisin laughed again. There was no humor in that laugh. “You’re right, Maeve. It is a game—a deadly game. Learn the rules, Sky Daughter, change the rules—or die.”
Maeve had screwed up again. Pissed off an Elemental big time. She thought about apologizing, but the image of Andovar’s butchered body overwhelmed her. May as well finish the job.
“You’re a poor parent, Dragon Lord.” She clutched the lifestone tight in her fist. “But that’s okay. He’s mine now.”
“As you wish, Maeve.” Merisin faded away.
The lifestones resumed their wordless melody.
For the first time since she met him, Haven smiled.
She expected Andovar’s stone to gain weight as they returned, but it didn’t. Its texture seemed different too, and an urgent spring-green shimmer peeked through her fingers. She tucked it inside her shirt near her heart. Perhaps Andovar would find his song again. If any of them lived that long.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Yarrow returned Maeve to Tana’s house—and to disaster.
Sethos’ troops had arrived in force and taken Raymond.
“You couldn’t stop them?” Maeve shouted at them. “Why didn’t he change? They couldn’t have taken him then.”
Flor shook her head. Tears streaked her face, but she twisted her hands in fury. “Someone…a thrice damned witch, froze us like I froze the soldiers on the bridge.”
Tana slammed her hand down on the counter. No tears for her. Waves of fury in her words lashed out at the world. “Never in my life has an immobilizing spell held me. Who is doing this?”
Claire? Surely not. But Maeve heard the agony under Tana’s rage. Tana believed the spell came from Claire. She stared at the floor and choked down a scream. The image of Andovar’s butchered body changed to Raymond’s.
“We have to go get him.”
“I know,” Flor said. “Let me get ready.” She whirled and raced up the stairs.
“I’ll go with you,” Chaos entered the room. He flexed his claws. “I’m very good in a fight.”
Andovar’s lifestone whispered in its cradle near Maeve’s heart. She lifted it out and offered it to Tana.
“Andovar. Yarrow…Haven flew me to the Circle of Souls, but they wouldn’t let Andovar in, so I brought him here. Another throwaway, like me.”
Tana stared at Maeve, eyes wide, apparently speechless. Not for long, though. She wrapped a gentle hand around the lifestone. “Welcome, Andovar,” she whispered. “Be at peace in my house.” She placed the pale green stone on a shelf near the glass jars of dried flowers.
“You said Haven?” Tana’s face grew serious.
Chaos turned his face away. Maeve frowned. What didn’t he want them to see?
Maeve wet her lips. “There’s more, Tana.” How was she going to say it? She plunged on. “You have to get to the Council, not Claire. I don’t know if we can trust…” A sob choked in her throat. She forced it down and told of the slaughterhouse, Andovar’s actions that drove his madness, and the zombie army under the factory.
“It can’t be.” Tana shook her head in denial. “Claire wouldn’t be a part of that…she loved the dragons as much as all of us. No.” Chaos wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to a chair. For the first time in Maeve’s life, Tana looked old.
Maeve knelt in front of her, grasped her hands, and held them tightly. “Listen, all I know is what I’ve seen—and what Erik’s told me. Lies are cheap and easy. Erik knows how I feel about Claire, and he’s vicious enough to let me believe she’s involved, even if she isn’t. Wait for the proof, Tana. Don’t judge yet.”
Tana nodded. Tears twinkled in her eyes. “I don’t believe it. Her own people…family.”
“I saw them. Thousands of dead-alive soldiers, in cold storage and—”
“Wait. There’s no room, Maeve.” Tana frowned. “How many floors below?”
“The troops were on three, but Erik said there were five below ground.”
Tana shook her head. “I watched them build that monstrosity. The ground under it is part of the mountain. It’s solid rock. At most…possibly a basement, but three or five, it’s not possible.”
Maeve shrugged. “I know the elevator had a lot of buttons.”
Flor raced barefoot down the stairs. She’d dressed in what could only be described as Maya/Aztec warrior chic, styled in the same aqua and apricot
color as her formal robes. Only there was a lot less of this outfit.
A band across her hips left her brown muscular legs bare, a halter covered her breasts, barely, and a black obsidian knife protruded from the band. She’d bound her hair tight in a turquoise beaded cord. “Do you have a plan?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“Ah…no. I’ll have to think of something.” Maeve drew back and had to stare at her.
Tana seemed confused by Flor’s dress. “Flor…are you sure…”
“Am I sure of what?”
“Nothing dear.”
“Let’s go,” Maeve said. Flor’s little surprises were getting out of hand, but she didn’t have time to deal with them now. “Tana, do you want to come?”
“I want to, but the doors and windows are sealed with a one-way ward. It may take all of my energy to open it and let you out. If I do get out, I need to contact the Clans. Claire…if the Council’s betrayed us…”
If the Council had betrayed them, Elder was lost.
The plan didn’t quite work out that way. The ward allowed Maeve and Flor easy exit and defied all of Tana’s efforts to get herself and Chaos through. They had to leave her there, raging and cursing Claire, every witch on the Council, their mothers, fathers, and all their cousins over the age of a hundred.
Maeve and Flor reached a thicket of small trees, only a hundred yards from the factory before someone challenged them.
Two of Sethos’ goons popped up out of the thick brush, rifles ready. One looked like a rough version of Brad Pitt, and the other had a scar splayed across one side of his face like a demon’s claw. Both seemed overjoyed to find someone they thought they could hurt.
“Look what we got,” Scar-Face said.
“I get the little one,” the Brad look-a-like told him.
Flor held out her empty hands to Brad and smiled. She slowly approached him, and he lowered the gun, but Scar-Face kept his on Maeve.
When she reached him, Brad snagged the obsidian knife and tossed it to the ground. He ran his hand down Flor’s side and across her bare hip.
“You want to come with me? I’ll be real nice to you.” He leered, brought his hand back up, and forced it under Flor’s halter.
