Bone Dance

by Lee Roland

  Had Erik decided to save himself? Then she heard him sigh. He came to them, knelt down, and took Claire in his arms. He lifted her with ease despite his injured hand. “You witches are a lot of trouble,” he grumbled. “I suppose it’ll be worth it, though—if he stays dead.”

  Maeve jerked. “He’s that hard to kill?”

  Erik didn’t answer.

  The light came on, noticeable at first, then stronger. At least this area had been equipped with battery emergency lights. Claire lay limp in Erik’s arms. She’d used too much strength battling Sethos and giving strength to Erik and Maeve. She needed to get to Tana for healing soon.

  They exited into the hallway that contained windows into the lab area. All machinery had stopped and stilted silent workers in white coats stumbled around the room with no apparent purpose.

  Maeve grabbed Erik’s arm. “We have to warn them.”

  “We don’t have time, and they’re already dead. You saw your truck driver.”

  Memory of Joe Don staggered Maeve. She grabbed the rail, searching for an indication that the animated bodies below were living beings.

  Nothing. Each one performed his task in repetitive motion. No one scratched an itch or stretched an aching muscle. Zombies, yes, but were they beyond pain?

  Erik was right, though. They didn’t have time. She remembered how fast Joe Don died after she tore the binding away from him. The doomed workers would go like that—she hoped.

  Orcus landed on the rail beside her.

  “Thank you,” Maeve said. “Get out if you can. Harriet and Flor will need you.”

  He watched her for a moment with midnight eyes, and then flew away.

  Erik led them through another of the interminable hallways as the building vibrated around them and small explosions shook the walls. How much longer before the fire reached the explosives he’d planted? Or even the ammunition he had said was stored in the building.

  “What about the timers?”

  “It’s past time.” Erik kicked a door open. “He must have disarmed all of them.”

  “But the fire?”

  “That’ll set off some. There are other flammable materials stored here.”

  Claire drifted in and out of consciousness. Maeve wanted to touch her, hold her, all the things she never could do. Most of all, she wanted to ask why? Why abandon a child if you loved her? Another hallway and into an area Maeve recognized. The slaughterhouse.

  “We’re almost out,” Erik said. He headed toward a door across the room. “If we can—”

  The wall in front of them exploded in flames, hurtling them back. Erik held Claire tight as heat and air blasted them. Resignation filled his face.

  “The other door,” he said. He stared at the door on the room’s far side. “It leads out, but the long way around. We probably don’t have time, but…”

  There was nothing to do but try.

  The fire had spread from the vat room, and the haphazard arrangement of hallways funneled it throughout the building. Any open door would allow a finger of flame to reach deeper into the building’s heart and stretch it outward toward Erik’s explosives and anything else that would burn.

  Maeve ran to the door and jerked it open. Erik carried Claire through, and they began another trek through the maze. At one point, flames licked the walls behind them, and the air grew thick with smoke.

  Erik choked. More smoke and they wouldn’t be conscious long.

  He stumbled. “Almost…over there.” His breath came in ragged gasps.

  For a brief moment, Maeve wondered why she wasn’t doing the same. The smoke smelled bad, but it wasn’t thick enough to suffocate her. They were halfway across the next room when fire burst through the walls beside and behind them. Surrounded by flame, they would die here.

  Maeve ran ahead and opened a door. Another hallway. She glanced back at the fire and knew what she had to do—or what she hoped she could do. At the bridge and when she faced Sethos, she’d offered her life. That kind of sacrifice would increase any spell tenfold. This time, Inaras would accept the offer.

  Erik rushed through the door, and Maeve closed it behind him. She turned to face the flame. She had no hope of repeating the flood in Ohio. How could she make it rain in a closed building? No matter, she had to try to buy Erik and Claire time. She’d try for the rain again. Yes, it seemed like she had help on that flood. Maybe it would come again. She closed her eyes, opened herself to magic.

  It didn’t come.

  An incompetent witch, a hopeless dreamer and restless nomad, no matter what, she had always been aware of the force driving her life. She might as well have a wall like Erik’s between her and the magic. Not a hint of power remained in her mind.

  Brilliant flames roared up and towered over her. Maeve closed her eyes and whispered a final prayer. “Inaras, I thank you for my life.” She lifted her arms to embrace death with the knowledge she had done all she could.

  The wall of fire crashed down.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  An irritating tickle on her skin brought her back to reality. She stood naked in a well of flame, a writhing inferno that should blacken and incinerate in an instant. The tickle became a caress, like a warm bath on a winter night, and she drew a deep breath to fill her lungs with fire.

  Maeve knew. Yes, of course she knew. She shouted with joy—and screamed in agony. Bones expanded, thickened, grew heavy as they drew particles of mass from the burning around her. Muscles stretched to incredible lengths. Every molecule in her body multiplied, twisted into a new form. Her scream transformed to a roar, so violent, so strong, it twisted tornadoes of fire out through the air. Her wings burst forth, and her tail whipped around. It smashed walls and steel girders. They crashed around her, and she batted them away.

  When the pain eased, Maeve examined as much of her body as she could see, which was considerable, given the length of her neck. Red-gold? Strawberry blonde? Had there ever been a dragon that color? Maybe she should pay more attention to prophecies—or to her own heart. “Sky Daughter,” the Elementals called her.

  There was no time to admire herself. Though she ached to tear out of the building and fly, she had to get to Erik and Claire. But how did she find them? She searched, pushing her dragon’s aura toward the door Erik had gone through.

  They hadn’t gotten far. The fire had them trapped in a room two hundred feet away. With infinite care, she began to claw through the walls between them. Maeve found it easier and faster to use her head to batter her way through than her front legs. With one final push, she shoved into the room. She dared not go any farther lest she bring the walls down on the people she meant to save.

  Erik and Claire huddled on the floor on the far side of the room.

  Claire looked up, and her eyes widened. The hopeless expression on her face became one of pure joy. She stretched her arm toward Maeve and struggled to rise.

  Erik saw Maeve. His face went blank, and he might have been a doll carved from heart of an oak tree. Had he been prepared to die and was suddenly offered hope, or did he remember Andovar’s butchered body?

  However, he did respond to Claire’s struggle. Holding on to the wall behind him, he managed to get to his feet, and then pull her up with him. They staggered toward Maeve.

  Claire reached out and grabbed Maeve’s nose to keep from falling. She cried and gasped for breath. The touch brought a merge of auras.

  “Oh my love. I knew. I told them…when you were under my heart. I knew.”

  Claire’s aura communicated more love than her voice ever could. It brought sorrow too.

  Maeve wanted to ask her why. Why did you leave me, why did you throw me away?

  There wasn’t time.

  “Get in my mouth. I’ll get you out.”

  Dangerous. Maeve’s mouth was large enough to hold them. She herself had ridden in Raymond’s, but she wasn’t used to being a dragon. Anything could happen. Still, it was the only way. If Erik had any hesitancy on riding in a dragon’s mouth, h
e didn’t show it. He helped Claire over Maeve’s teeth, and then climbed in himself. His only alternative was to stay and be fried.

  Maeve carefully closed her mouth. The biggest danger for them would be asphyxiation. She could open her jaws a little and give them fresh air—if she could find any. Reckless, desperate, she shoved steel away with her head and claws like a reptilian bulldozer. She had almost made it when the obscene factory, Elder’s bane, exploded.

  With a roar of a giant furnace, the blast erupted from below. It didn’t hurt. Like being hit with an intense wind, it shot her and tons of steel up like smoke and ash from a volcano. Finding herself airborne would have brought Maeve intense pleasure under different circumstances. Now, with fire tickling her feet and building material raining on her head, she realized she didn’t know how to fly.

  No problem, though. Flapping her wings should do it—if she could get them to work simultaneously. One up, one down, she rocked back and forth like a clock pendulum. Claire and Erik were getting a hell of a ride.

  Upward momentum stalled, and Maeve started back down into the searing holocaust. She had to try harder. With supreme concentration and more erratic flapping, she managed to move sideways—straight toward Ogre Mountain. She needed a place to land. Too late, she noticed the jagged rock outcroppings.

  Maeve twisted her body and hit the rock feet first, and thrust herself back. That sent her into a downward spiral. She stiffened her wings, and the spiral leveled into a glide. Rushing with astonishing speed toward the earth, she aimed for the one place she wanted to be most—Tana’s backyard. Strange proceedings were occurring below. A mass of ogres, demons, and witches had gathered on the meadow between Tana’s house and the factory. Her heightened senses told her Haven and the other Elder dragons flew above. Never in her life had all of Elder’s folk come together like this. What galvanized them now, instead of when Sethos—Sorath—first arrived? Oracles and prophesies, omens, portents, mystery, and magic, Maeve suspected they waited on a dragon—a female dragon at that. But what about Flor? Had they expected two?

  As she came closer to Tana’s house, she could see the backyard filled with witches.

  Too bad, they’d have to move.

  Maeve wanted to reduce speed but didn’t know how. If she unlocked her wings, she might go straight down.

  The figures in Tana’s back yard must have seen her unbalanced flight because they were running now. She remembered how the other dragons lifted wings at the last moment before landing. She’d try that. What did she have to lose?

  She concentrated on one spot, whipped her wings up—and dropped like the Wandering Stone. A belly flop landing on the grass didn’t stop her momentum. Her feet collapsed under her, and her head plowed a deep furrow in the lush grass. Ah, yes. Touchdown. Better yet, she could feel Claire and Erik moving on her tongue.

  Maeve opened her mouth as Chaos and the witches came running. They helped lift Claire and Erik over her teeth. She closed her mouth as Yarrow walked up. His human form appeared quite different through dragon eyes.

  Yarrow stopped and surveyed her body. He cocked his head and smiled. “That was interesting, beloved, but most of us try to land on our feet.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Maeve grunted. Ass—who did he think he was?

  Yarrow stroked the scales on her face. “Your color is magnificent,” he whispered.

  She lifted her head and struggled to rise. A task made more difficult by the fact that her feet had plowed into the dirt much as her head had.

  A small group of witches approached to stare at Maeve. They whispered and mumbled among themselves. Not far away, Tana and others hovered over Claire. Tana kept glancing at Maeve. Didn’t she recognize her?

  “Tana?”

  “Love, what’s happened?”

  “Don’t know. The fire…I thought I’d burn but it just happened…”

  “Well, I always knew you were special. But…oh, my. This is beyond that.”

  Maeve glanced over to where Erik stood, surrounded by a group of witches and warlocks. Not good. She needed to change.

  “Yarrow?” Maeve spoke in his mind.

  “Yes, beloved.”

  “How do I change back?”

  “You don’t like being a dragon?”

  “I like it, I have something to do I can’t do this way.”

  “All you do is will yourself to change.”

  “I’ll be naked, won’t I?”

  Yarrow looked confused. He had probably never worn clothing in his extremely long life. Could Maeve ever become accustomed to that kind of casual nudity?

  “Please, Yarrow.”

  “Very well, beloved.”

  He went to one of the witches. After a few words, she removed her cloak and gave it to him. He returned and held it up for her.

  “Will it hurt as much as it did the first time?”

  “Not quite as much. It will get easier.”

  Maeve closed her eyes and wished for her human body. Pain flared, but she didn’t scream this time. Her extra mass dissipated, but she knew she could call it again. Yarrow nuzzled her neck, as he wrapped her in the cloak. Now that was going to be interesting. How did dragons make love in dragon form? She laid her hand on his chest and felt the heavy slow beat of his heart.

  “Later,” she whispered. “I have to do things now.” Like save Erik if she could.

  Tana knelt by Claire, but when Maeve approached, she rose and came to her. Maeve knew she had questions, but she didn’t voice them.

  “If you need my help, love, I’m here,” Tana said. Though curiosity bubbled in her voice, Tana would support Maeve as she always had.

  Maeve walked through the assembled witches and stood by Erik. Two, Evan Fain and Thomas Charo, were Council members. For the first time in her life, Maeve took a moment to consider her words and actions.

  “Erik saved my life. I have a blood debt.” She would appeal first to honor. It might work. And yet these witches let Sethos take over. But Claire…

  Evan Fain stepped forward. “You saved him from the fire. That cancels the debt.”

  Forget honor then.

  “He’s my friend,” Maeve lied. Interesting. Dragon’s didn’t lie, but witches could. So a dragon/witch…interesting possibility there.

  Fain shifted and appeared uncomfortable. “He is his son.”

  Tana came to stand beside Maeve. “Love, are you sure this is what you want?”

  Flor, again in human form, joined them. She flashed Maeve a knowing smile.

  If Maeve had the feeling that nothing added up at the factory, it trebled here. What was going on? Two female dragons arrive, the first in five thousand years, and no one but Tana seemed surprised.

  She stared Fain in the eye. “Councilman Fain—”

  Elder shifted under their feet. The air changed and crackled with energy and magic and every living creature in the valley stopped to listen.

  Maeve shivered because she knew what was happening. She’d been there before. With trembling hands, she pulled the robe tighter across her shoulders and said, “The Elementals are coming.”

  The air shimmered and they appeared in human form—almost.

  The assembled witches and warlocks dropped to their knees, but they kept incredulous eyes upon the beings before them. Maeve didn’t bow. She’d earned the right to stand.

  She had to smile when she saw Tamiel. Old Troll, her childhood friend. She suppressed the urge to run to him. This was, after all a solemn, respectful situation.

  As a group, they came to Maeve. As a group, they lowered their heads and bowed to her.

  “Welcome, Sky Daughter,” Inaras said. The Elemental mother, warm, loving, beautiful—like Tana’s. “Your children will prosper in my realm.” She reached out and brushed Maeve’s cheek with her fingers, and the earth under Maeve’s feet trembled with ancient power—witches’ power, far deeper than she’d known before.

  Inaras stepped back, and Uriel came forward. Flames flickered in Uriel’s
eyes and danced on her fingers. Uriel laughed—feminine and passionate, with the whickering sound of a campfire. “A gift, Sky Daughter. I give you fire.” She too brushed Maeve’s cheek, and Maeve felt the flame quicken inside her, a flame a young dragon would not normally have.

  When Tamil approached, she lost her battle to stay calm. She threw herself at him. Tall, sturdy, gruff, he lifted her off her feet with powerful arms and hugged her to him, her face crushed in his brushy beard. “Now,” he said. “What can I give you?”

  “Nothing. You gave me your stories, and you taught me to dream.” She said as he released her. “And I think you saved me in Ohio. That was a lot of water, Troll. Salt water? From the ocean?” Was she chastising an Elemental?

  He laughed the booming laugh she remembered so well. “Well, little Maeve, I was a long way from Elder, and to tell you the truth, my kind of magic doesn’t always work the way it should. Salt water minds me better than the other stuff.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t call you Troll anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “It sounds…I mean you’re an Elemental and—”

  “I’m Troll—always.” He bent down and kissed her forehead, then stepped back.

  Maeve’s stomach tightened into a knot when Merisin came forward. More graceful than a dragon, beautiful Merisin had stormy gray eyes—and strawberry blond hair.

  “And what should I call you, Dragon Lord,” Maeve whispered.

  “I’d ask that you call me Father. You are the greatest wonder of my long life.”

  He gathered her in his arms, and the world disappeared around them. He spoke of the magic required for her conception. He told her of praying to the Great Master that she would survive. “Please forgive us for your pain. We could find no other way.”

  “I don’t understand.” Maeve’s heart sank. “Why?”

  “You were conceived to save the dragons. You are their last hope. Sorath was your test. All dragons are tested. On many occasions, it did not go as planned. We could help you because you carry part of us, but had control over nothing else. Your mother loves you and so do I. All our hopes are with you.”

  Conceived? Bred like a prize horse or dog? To save the dragons? No! She was loved, cherished—she’d fought and won battles. She’d proved her worth, hadn’t she?