Dark Magic

by Rebecca York

  He shrugged. “I can’t answer that. I only know that we must go through a…gateway to get here.”

  “What’s it like there?”

  His voice took on a dreamy quality. “Warmer. Darker. Comfortable.”

  The words and the tone of his voice told her how much he had lost by being cast out. Did it have to be that way? Was there something she could do about it? When she realized ideas were spinning in her head, she stopped herself.

  “No humans live there,” he added.

  She tried to imagine a world without people.

  “There the dragons have many animals to sustain them.”

  “And here?”

  “I have a herd of deer that feed me. They come when I call them. They are my friends.”

  His friends. She tried to imagine how lonely he must be. That would drive anyone to bitterness. Or madness.

  Emotions welled inside her. She felt something for this—man—that she had never felt before and didn’t understand now. She only knew that her heart seemed to swell inside her chest.

  “Human blood tastes better,” he said, then looked away. “So I must stay away from the communities of men. If I take too much from one person, I kill him. Or her.”

  “You didn’t kill me.”

  “I could have.”

  “But you didn’t want to. I think you’ve learned control.”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “I frighten humans—with good reason. You were very brave or very foolish to come here.”

  She lifted her chin. “Call it what you want, but I feel better than I ever have in my life.”

  “And you think I can save your people.”

  “Yes.”

  He stood up, pulled on his clothes and looked to the cave entrance, where she saw the dawn coming.

  “I must sleep,” he said.

  “But…”

  “We will talk when I wake up. But first, I will get you food and drink.” He walked toward the cave entrance and vanished.

  She got up and pulled on her gown and the gold chain, then hurried to the place where he had been. While she was trying to sort out where he had gone, he reappeared, holding a tray of meat stew, fruit, bread and small cakes, along with flasks of cold water and wine.

  Her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”

  “From the other side of the mountain.”

  “So quickly?”

  “Yes.”

  He walked back toward his bedroom. “I will sleep—until the sun is low in the sky. You are welcome to stay here. Or not.”

  He swept his hand toward one of the rugs and she saw the sandals she had taken off on the other side of the sharp rocks. He had brought them to her, so she could walk back the way she had come.

  Chapter Twelve

  Before Devon could tell him she had no intention of running away, he closed the stout door between them, leaving her alone in the beautiful room.

  She ate some of the food and drank from the goblet. It was the best meal she had had in weeks, perhaps the best she had ever tasted. Her father’s cooks had been adequate. This food had been prepared by someone with a lot more skill.

  Forcing herself not to gobble it all, she left the tray on the table, then wandered around, taking in the details of the room. It was wonderful, with more treasures than she could ever have imagined. Diamonds, emeralds and rubies sparkled in a silver bowl. A large crystal globe had images of the moons and stars embedded inside it.

  She saw tables of what looked like scientific instruments. Some, like a telescope, she recognized. Others were a complete mystery to her. And beside them were quill pens, inkwells and stacks of notebooks where Galladar had written in a language she could not read.

  Perhaps he had taken over this cave, but he had obviously made good use of what he found. He was a scholar, with knowledge wider and broader than that of any man.

  Enthralled by everything she saw, she drifted around the room, inspecting more of his riches. Tables held shells from the sea, crystals, bottles of colored glass, boxes carved of stone and wood, and cunning images of animals—some real and some from stories. She found a beautifully carved dragon. A unicorn. And a bear that was completely white.

  She had left the best for last. On the shelves was a king’s ransom of books. And ancient scrolls beautifully illuminated. She opened volumes on history. Philosophy. Science. Geography. Language. Anything she wanted to read. All the subjects she had longed to study. Instead she had been forced to join the other women of the castle, learning weaving and embroidery and how to sew clothing—because that was all females were good for. That and marriage and having babies. And maybe keeping their husband’s household accounts.

  Now she attacked the riches of the library, pulling out volumes that interested her, looking through them, and carefully putting them back before she picked up still others.

  She could stay here for a thousand years, she thought, reading these books. And learning from the man who lived in this remote place. He was not a monster to her. He was like no one she had ever met—not her parents or her brother. Or the people of Arandal, who spent their lives working for the good of her father’s household.

  Time sped by. When the door to the bedroom opened, she blinked.

  Galladar stepped out. He was dressed in black, as she had always seen him.

  “You’re still here.”

  “Of course.”

  “I must eat.”

  She stiffened, wondering if he was going to take her blood again. But he walked past her, out into the night, and she realized he was going to his deer herd.

  A pang of guilt assaulted her. She had lost herself in the wonders of this place, and her people were still in mortal danger.

  When Galladar returned, she went to him. “You came to Arandal. You sought me out. Why?”

  He shrugged.

  “I’ve been honest with you. Can’t you do the same for me?”

  “I roamed the castle. I saw you—and I was attracted to you.”

  “Why?”

  “First your beauty drew me. They I saw that you were different. Because you didn’t fit in.”

  “And you liked that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you tried to keep me from going to the dragon. Why?”

  “Because when I came to my senses, I knew it could never work between us. You are human. I am not.”

  “You are more human than many men I have met. Can all dragons change their shape to human form?”

  “All of us can shift our shapes.”

  The question that had burned inside her sprang to her lips. “Will you help me now?”

  “You want to save a king who has treated you ill and people who would never allow you what you crave most.”

  “Yes.”

  “It might not come out the way you expect.”

  “Why not?”

  “You must see that for yourself.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “If the dragon flies back to Arandal, the princess will come with me.”

  There was no other choice. “All right,” she answered immediately.

  “You might yet lose your nerve.”

  “I hope not. You will kill the barbarians?”

  Galladar was silent for long moments, and she felt her heart pounding as she waited for his answer.

  “Yes. For you. Because you had the courage to sacrifice your life. Willingly.”

  “Then we must hurry. The barbarian leader will be angry when he finds out that I have escaped. Maybe he already knows.”

  “We will make you ready to leave.”

  Devon felt a pang. She didn’t want this time with him to end. He had listened to her—really listened. He had answered her questions honestly, and he had shown her more regard in a few hours than she had ever experienced in her whole life.

  She felt the sadness of that and struggled to push it away. She had work to do, and she must not let her own needs distract her.

  He walked farther back int
o the cave and returned with a shirt, britches and boots finer than the outfit she had traveled in. And a set of leather armor.

  “Put this on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are going into battle.”

  Devon swallowed and turned her back so she could take off the gown and pull on the clothing. Then she picked up the top part of the armor, turning it in her hands.

  “I don’t know how to fit it to me.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  He slipped the upper piece over her head and hooked it together under her arms.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders.”

  She did, closing her eyes as she clung to his strong body, wishing they were back in bed together.

  When he fitted the leg guards over her thighs, she fought a surge of heat.

  Maybe he felt it too, because she heard his breath catch.

  “How did you find armor that fits a woman?” she asked, trying to distract herself.

  “Magic,” he said, his voice thick.

  He picked up the helmet from the bed and fixed it on her head, carefully tucking her hair out of sight.

  Then he pulled back a drapery and turned her around so that she could see herself in a long mirror.

  She stared at the warrior confronting her. “I look…fierce.”

  “We’ll see if your heart matches your appearance. Come outside.”

  She followed him out of the bedroom, through the room with the wonderful books and then into the night. The moon was so bright that the rock outcroppings cast shadows.

  “Stay there while I change,” he said.

  “To what?”

  He stepped back, twenty feet from her. Taking off his clothes, he laid them on the ground. Then he began to grow and transform. She gasped as scales covered his body. His neck and head elongated. His arms turned into wings, and his hands and feet became talons.

  In seconds a terrifying dragon stood before her, towering twenty feet in the air.

  In the moonlight, he arched his neck, lifted his head and roared. Along with the mighty sound, a stream of fire shot out of his mouth.

  If he was trying to scare her again, he had succeeded, but she managed to stand her ground. She had come too far to run from him now. He looked dangerous. No, he was dangerous.

  But not to her. She knew he would never hurt her. Not on purpose.

  His voice roared out of him, as he crouched low to the ground. “Climb on my back. Use my scales to pull yourself up.”

  Teeth clenched, she climbed onto the dragon’s massive back, straddling him like a great horse. There was a kind of flat raised hump that formed a saddle for her to sit on. And his shoulder blades stuck up like two handles. It seemed that he had shaped his back so she could ride easily and hang on.

  She grabbed on with her two hands.

  “Are you ready?” he boomed.

  “Yes,” she answered, wondering if it was true.

  Galladar leaped from the ground, his great wings beating the air as he gained altitude, carrying her up and up, high above the forest and into the black velvet night where she thought she might touch the stars. Yet they always remained out of reach.

  She had envied the freedom of birds, which could fly away to a new place anytime they wanted. Now she looked down in wonder, awed by the moon-silvered landscape below her.

  It was cold. She flattened herself to his back, glad of the armor’s protection. Still the wind tore at her as they flew high above the forest.

  His strong wings never faltered as he ate up the distance. She had taken days to walk to his mountain lair. The moon had barely moved in the sky when she saw the castle and the barbarians camped around it.

  “Press yourself down and hold on,” the dragon boomed as he dived toward the invaders. She flattened herself against his back and dug her fingers into his shoulder blades as he hurtled downward, making her glad she hadn’t eaten all of the food he’d brought.

  Below on the plains around the castle, she heard men shouting and pointing toward them. And soldiers in the castle shouting and pointing, too.

  Some of the barbarians aimed their bows into the air. Arrows flew past Devon, bouncing off the dragon’s scales.

  When Galladar was almost on the barbarians, fire shot from his mouth, enveloping the camp below. Tents went up in flames. Men’s clothing caught on fire, and they ran screaming toward the river.

  Their cries and the smell of their burning flesh rose into the air.

  Devon turned her head away. She didn’t want to see the death of these men, but she knew they would have slaughtered her people or made them slaves if they had won. So she hung on as the dragon wheeled and dived, scorching the men and the land around the castle like the land around his cave.

  The barbarians still standing ran for their lives. And the dragon hunted them down—picking them off one by one. When Galladar was finished, he landed on the field, in the middle of the destruction.

  Devon looked toward the castle. Men inside cranked the gears that lowered the great drawbridge and raised the gate.

  She expected her father to come out with cries of thanks for saving the kingdom.

  Instead, archers rushed through the opening, firing at the dragon as they charged him.

  Devon screamed.

  Galladar bellowed in anger. Whipping his head from side to side, he sprayed the soldiers with fire, then rose into the air with his rider still clinging to his back.

  Arrows followed them upward but fell back to earth.

  Devon pressed her face to the dragon’s back, hot tears stinging her eyes. He had come to the rescue of Arandal, and they had thanked him by attacking. Reaching for the chain around her neck, she pulled it over her head and flung it into the air, watching it plummet toward the ground. The soldiers would find it. And maybe Brinna would understand that she had not died after all. That she had asked the dragon for help, and he had granted her that boon.

  They flew back the way they had come. Back to the mountain cave. And when they landed, she slipped to the ground.

  Galladar backed away from her, transforming once more so that he stood before her as a man.

  Unable to look her in the eye, he pulled his clothing back on.

  When he finally raised his face to Devon’s, she cried out, “You saved them, and they tried to kill you.”

  “They fear me,” he said in a flat voice.

  “You knew what would happen,” she accused.

  “Not for certain,” he admitted. “But it was my guess.”

  “And you wanted me to see.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He kept his gaze steady. “So you will go back where you belong.”

  “How can I?”

  “I can give you proof that you brought the monster that saved them.”

  “What proof?”

  “You can carry back scales from the dragon. Your father will have to pay attention to that.”

  Her answer was immediate. “I don’t want to carry anything back. I want to stay here.”

  Finally he repeated what he had said before. “You are human. And I am not. And there can be nothing more between us.”

  Devon wavered on her feet, then straightened, and his chest tightened painfully.

  She stood her ground. “You would send me back to my father?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I do not belong with him. He has never cared for me—or my happiness. He only thinks of me as a pawn. Before the Lubantans came, he was trying to use me to form an alliance—and get as high a bride price as he could. Then, when the castle was surrounded and he had run out of options, he was going to give me to the leader of the barbarians.”

  “How do you know?”

  “My old nurse told me. That was what made up my mind to go to the dragon.”

  “Yet you came here to save him.”

  “It wasn’t for him. I came to stop the suffering of his people. In a few years, my brother, Grantland, will be the ruler,
and I pray to Rivana that he will be a better king. But I do not want to go back to Arandal. Not like this or any other way.”

  As she spoke, she pulled off the armor and threw it onto the ground. She ran to him and clasped her arms around his waist. “Let me stay with you. I feel closer to you than any man I ever met.”

  He was so much stronger than she. He could have wrenched himself away, but he stayed in her embrace because he knew it was the last time he would ever hold her. And he wanted to remember her warmth and goodness.

  Finally, he forced himself to ease away.

  “You cannot.”

  “Why?”

  He heard the sadness in his own voice when he said, “I am a young dragon. I told you what I will become. I may hurt you. I cannot bear that thought.”

  “You won’t! I will stay here, and it will change everything for you. Old dragons suffer from terrible loneliness and bitterness. You will not, because I will be at your side—and in your bed.”

  He felt hope bloom, then fade.

  “You will grow lonely in this place.”

  She raised her head and met his gaze. “I will not grow lonely. I will have you to teach me all the things you know—and all the things I have longed to learn.”

  Joy and longing shone in her voice. “We will argue about politics and religion and philosophy the way educated men do. And we will discover new things in science together.”

  He shook his head as he delivered the ultimate truth. “You cannot save me. You are human, and you will grow old and die.”

  She must have worked out an answer for that, too, because she gave him a cocky grin. “Are you forgetting that you are magic? You will discover how to keep me young. Because you want me to stay with you.”

  He still couldn’t let himself hope. “You have too much faith in my magic.”

  “We will see. We can figure it out. Together. We will change my destiny—and yours. We can make your life different, and maybe we can show the others of your kind what we have built together, if you will take me through the gateway to your home.”

  He felt stunned. She was suggesting solutions he had never even considered. What if he gave her his blood? Would that make the difference for her?

  She was speaking again. “And if my life is shorter than yours, I will be content. For it will be the life I have chosen for myself. A life of freedom, not the narrow existence my father planned for me.”