Seraph of Sorrow

by MaryJanice Davidson

  It was no loss not to have it now—both Glorianna and Libby knew this fight would not be won with a blade. Thus the second weapon.

  The girl tested the string of the composite bow as she followed Glorianna through the woods. “How many arrows do you expect it will take?”

  “It depends on where you put them.” Glorianna bent a branch out of her face. “And on the dragon. This one—an ‘elder’—will be difficult, requiring five or six solid shots.”

  “You’ve talked about elders before. They’re more powerful.”

  “Since we established Winoka, no beaststalker has killed an elder. And it certainly has never been done for a rite of passage before.” She glanced behind her to see the effect of these words. Perhaps, not surprisingly, there was none. Libby kept asking questions.

  “So what can an elder do that a normal dragon can’t?”

  “Each type has different strengths. The type you’re about to see—they call themselves dashers—fall from the sky like meteors, creating an ugly mess for the unlucky caught in the radius. If this thing climbs high, stay light on your feet.”

  “What else can it do?”

  “With dashers, you’ll want to mind the tail. Expect speed, especially when it’s airborne.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Do not listen to its lies. Dragons are unable to speak truth, when faced with—”

  Libby pushed impatiently past the woman. “The lair is straight ahead?”

  “It drinks from a stream you’ll reach in about a thousand yards.” Glorianna didn’t know for sure where this dragon liked to drink. But she had sent it an invitation to meet her emissary by the stream. Her message would lead this dragon to believe this was a mission of diplomacy.

  Charles Longtail, elder of his clan, was one of the few dragons who had managed to escape Pinegrove. This didn’t bother Glorianna, as much as the elder’s persistent attempts since then at establishing peace between dragons and beaststalkers. For a nauseating monster, it was having far too much success—some of the warriors who lived near this forest were beginning to wonder if the two races could live in harmony, if they could find more dragons like Longtail.

  Rumors of peace had spread too far. Wishful thinking would not win this war.

  “Libby.”

  The girl stopped a few paces away, without turning.

  “Be careful, dear. It will know you’re coming.”

  Libby reached back into her quiver, drew an arrow, and set it to string. Then she was off.

  Glorianna waited until her protégée was nearly out of sight, and then began to follow. Did she think the girl needed help? No. Did she trust the girl to get the job done? Of course.

  She simply wanted to see the show.

  It began with howling. Several canine voices raised an altered chord—Glorianna didn’t know enough about music to guess what key. Their pet wolves, she reminded herself. They had been heard and seen before. Longtail had them as sentries—he was not completely foolish.

  Only foolish enough to believe in peace.

  She picked up her pace, confident both Libby and the wolves would be more concerned with each other than with any stray sounds or scents she might make on the forest floor.

  By the time she saw Libby again, the girl was approaching the stream. An enormous wolf was trotting parallel to her, maintaining a respectful distance. Two more were approaching.

  Elder Longtail was across the river, resting on the far bank near a massive oak, no more than thirty yards away from Elizabeth. For a dasher, supposedly the slightest of the three dragon types, it was enormous. Its body was a great black curl, swept with cobalt streaks. Glorianna knew its senses would be excellent, so she stayed where she was, hundreds of yards away.

  As a result, she could not hear what the dragon said, only that it spoke first. From the tilt of its head, it appeared to ask a question.

  Libby’s voice responded as clearly as a bell. “I am here on the orders of Glorianna Seabright, to kill you. Ready yourself, or ready your soul!”

  This made the dragon laugh. The nearby wolves howled a major chord to join in. There were four of them now, all closing in on the newcomer.

  What Longtail said after that was still hard to make out, but contained the words child and serious. Two of the wolves broke off and circled back in Glorianna’s direction.

  Clearly Longtail was assuming a trap. There was none—she had full confidence Libby could complete this task. Nevertheless, it would not do for the wolves to discover her. If—

  A cry from the dragon interrupted her thoughts. Glorianna looked up and saw Libby had landed her first arrow through Longtail’s left wing claw. Not exactly dead center, she evaluated. She won’t get many more chances shooting like that.

  Before she had completed the thought, Longtail let out another shout. This time, Libby had placed her arrow through the other wing claw. Now she could hear the dragon perfectly.

  “How dare you!” it bellowed, breaking the arrows against the ground and pulling the shafts from its bloody claws. “I am an elder of the Blaze. I have patience, girl, but it is not endless. Put down that bow before I wrap it around your neck, snap your head off, and feed what’s left of you to the hounds!”

  The two wolves close to Libby snarled at her. In a flash, she cocked and released two arrows at once, plunging each through a canine throat. Like that, the guards were gone.

  A nearby growl reminded Glorianna of her own danger. She drew her sword. It would take nothing away from Libby, she reasoned, to dispatch these sentries. The rite of passage was about the dragon, not oversized dogs. By the time the two wolves that had spotted her were dead, the scene between Libby and Longtail had grown more hostile.

  One of the girl’s arrows had gone through the beast’s wing joint with such force it had pinned it to the nearby oak tree. Since its opposite wing claw was slick with blood, its fastest option to get free was to yank its wing over the remaining shaft—which it did, with a roar that shook the forest. Then its other wing joint was pinned to the same tree.

  Elizabeth’s strategy was now clear, and Glorianna couldn’t suppress a proud smile. She’s taking away its wings, before it can assert a tactical advantage. Most archers couldn’t fire well or quickly enough for this to be an option.

  Longtail ripped itself off the arrow the same way as it had the first, and tried to lift off with blood-streaked wings. It struggled, but approached the treetops with some effort.

  Libby brought it right back down. Glorianna couldn’t be sure, but she suspected from its cry of anguish that the girl had used one of her special arrows—the tips were sharp vials full of black widow poison, designed like armor-piercing bullets to pierce and then shatter. Unable to help herself, she drew closer. What Longtail could sense now wouldn’t matter.

  “You’re a fool!” the elder dragon spat as it stumbled back against the oak, triple-pronged tail flailing. “So is Glorianna Seabright. She’s no leader. Anyone can lead a mob to destroy . . .”

  The next arrow flew at its throat. Longtail shifted and caught it in its shoulder instead. “It takes more than that to lead a people to peace. To lead a people to a place where even your enemy will mourn your losses, and weep at the side of your dead. Maybe someday, girl, you’ll be able to desire a world like that. Maybe you’ll have the courage to mourn a dead enemy.”

  Another arrow flew, and again the beast moved just enough to avoid a lethal strike.

  “Or maybe,” it snarled, “you’re as dull-witted and gullible as the rest of her murderous cronies.”

  That earned it an arrow in the eye. This time, there was no roar of pain. Instead, Longtail pounced over the river and spun. Faster than Glorianna could follow, the triple-forked tail came about and caught Libby across the torso. Each prong ended in a sharp, silver bone. The girl cried out as sparks cascaded over her front, and the pieces of the bow went sailing.

  Then the fire came. It was a cascade, not aimed anywhere but rather unleashed all around it.
The diplomat and peace-maker were gone. All that was left, Glorianna saw, was the true beast within. Good. No more pretending. Just the honesty of what that thing really is.

  Libby’s leather armor was lined with asbestos; but the armor wasn’t necessary. The girl rolled forward into the river, which was deep enough to disappear into. As the half-blind dragon raged on, the girl emerged from downstream, her small sword already drawn. She flung the blade and found the dragon’s throat, cutting the fire short and spinning the elder to the ground. Its forked tail came up as if to let loose with one last blow, then harmlessly crumpled on top of it.

  The forest floor was still. The sounds of birds and crickets, which had surrounded them to this point, were nowhere to be heard. Only the trickle of the stream, which carried the seeping blood away, made any noise.

  Libby climbed up the bank and marched directly to the spot where Glorianna hid. Glorianna let a warm smile grace her face as she stepped out to meet her most beloved student . . . her ward . . . her daughter.

  “Libby, what a wonderful . . .”

  The girl bumped her and walked past. “Cut its head off yourself. I’ll be in the car.”

  “Libby, you deserve this moment! This is your passage to adulthood! You’ve found your vengeance; we should—”

  “Spare me!” Libby whirled on Glorianna, tears pooling on her cheeks. “I’ve killed your fucking dragon for you. I don’t know why you wanted it dead, but it’s dead, and I’ve repaid whatever debt I owe you; and now we’re through!”

  Glorianna clenched her jaw. “Your debt,” she hissed, “is more substantial than a single dragon carcass.”

  Libby said the rest walking away. “Then you can have the sword in its throat, too. I won’t need it anymore.”

  The sound of a breaking branch back toward the stream distracted Glorianna. She turned and saw a large shape between two spruces. “Libby!” she called back.

  “I know there’s a second one,” the teenager shouted back, now running. “I saw it before I saw the first. I don’t care! Kill it yourself.”

  Glorianna was not afraid of this second dragon. The horned, red-eyed, green-skinned beast was large, but not nearly as imposing as Longtail. Nor did it appear to want a fight. Instead, it was working its way around the elder’s corpse.

  She remembered Esteban’s curse and hesitated. Killing the wolves hadn’t triggered anything awful—killing wolves never had—but killing this thing would be a different matter, she was sure. Back then, she had a baby to lose. This time, she had—

  You have to get back to Libby, she told herself. She needs you. She’s too important. Leave this dragon to tell its brood what happened here. It will be a lesson for them.

  She turned and chased the girl.

  Years later, as she recalled that moment in the forest, Glorianna realized she never stopped chasing Elizabeth Georges. Not at the car, nor during the ride home, nor when her brother Michael’s sword arrived in the mail the following week and was ignored despite constant prompting, nor when the girl pursued medicine (like Esteban, Glorianna noted bitterly), nor when the girl came home one day with a pet dragon and claimed they were married, as if you could just decide to go off and marry something like that, something with a monstrous thing glowing inside. How could she do that? How could she not see what Glorianna saw? Above all, how could she not see Glorianna chasing after her, the last person on this earth she ever loved?

  “I didn’t think you would come.”

  Glorianna smiled ruefully at the young woman in the hospital bed. “No matter what has passed between us, Libby, I could not miss this.” She lifted her queenside knight and moved it to the center of the board, which was perched on the patient’s round belly. “How do you feel?”

  “Super. Epidurals are a girl’s best friend.” Elizabeth wiped her brow and poked her black bishop. “The drugs may affect my tactical abilities, so you can’t count this game if you win.”

  “I’m enjoying the chance to play. It’s been too long, Libby.”

  “I agree. Do you—oh!”

  The pieces on the board jerked, and Libby shifted under the sheets with an apologetic grin. “Another kick. Here, I think that pawn was over there. I can’t believe it’s today. I don’t know whether to be afraid, or excited, or nauseated, or what!”

  “I hear all those are normal. A child can change everything.”

  “Jonathan’s mother told him that once.”

  “Did she.” Glorianna had been contemplating letting her opponent’s mistake live on the board for a turn or two, but she found herself capturing the black bishop with ruthless efficiency. “As I told you last week, I’ve arranged for the chief of surgery himself to do this C-section. He recommends general anesthesia, given the baby’s position and other potential complications—”

  “I understand. I appreciate what you’ve done for me.”

  The floor trembled—Glorianna saw the thunderstorm outside. “Minnesota weather shifts quickly in autumn.”

  “It’s still summer.” Libby grinned. “Jonathan and I wanted a mid-September baby. It’s our favorite month.”

  “How wonderful for you.” It was hard to keep the smile plastered on her face, and Glorianna was sure Libby would have seen right through it had it not been for the drugs. “I see the nurse is here to take you to the operating room. Shall we call this game a draw?”

  “Sure. Thanks again for taking the time.”

  “My pleasure. By the way, where is Jonathan—ah. I see,” she interrupted herself as Elizabeth gestured toward the rain-splattered window and the crescent beyond. “I’d forgotten. Well, wherever he’s flying, I trust he’s thinking of you and the child tonight.” She scooped up the chess pieces, spilled them into the hollow underside of the board, and folded the game shut.

  “Thank you, Glorianna.”

  The mayor was already gone, chessboard folded under her arm. You’re welcome.

  Hours later, she and Libby were back in the same room—and this time there was someone else with them. The thunderstorm had not abated, and the windowpanes occasionally rattled after nearby lightning strikes.

  “She’s beautiful,” Glorianna remarked coolly when the young mother looked up expectantly from the infant. And on the outside, Jennifer Caroline Scales was beautiful—like every other newborn, no matter how ugly their individual features were.

  It was the inside that was the problem.

  It had not manifested right away. Years ago, Glorianna had never seen anything wrong with her and Esteban’s unborn child. That had given her hope, while it was alive. She had found more hope today, when she peeked inside Elizabeth’s womb during the chess match, and saw nothing inside the unborn child.

  But now, inside the newborn, a telltale shape was emerging, fluttering behind the tiny ribs. It wriggled inside the child’s abdomen. Most startling about the shape was its, well, shape. It was neither dragon nor spider. It was a tiny warrior. With wings.

  “My little angel,” Libby said, oblivious.

  The word angel hit Glorianna hard. Yes, that was the shape. Little Jennifer had an angel inside her. What did that mean? That she was a different sort of dragon? That dragons were changing over time? That beaststalkers also had shapes inside them, and Glory couldn’t see them?

  That last thought brought her back decades, to that day in the barn with Esteban, when she first saw what was inside him and wanted to throw up.

  She clenched her jaw with the effort not to gag on her own bile. This is his fault again. My not knowing this could happen. He was holding back.

  “Do you want to hold her?”

  “Do I—” Glorianna beheld her little Libby—daughter of sweet Charlie Georges, who loved his mother, Victoria, so much—holding out this failure of a child, and she began to cry.

  Libby, mistaken, widened her smile. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  “Oh, Libby. I couldn’t do it.”

  “Couldn’t do what?” Libby still smiled and presented
the baby, but her brow furrowed.

  “I couldn’t have them kill you on the table, with you unconscious. Dr. Jarkmand suggested it might be the kind thing to do—but I couldn’t. Not you. Not after watching Charlie grow up and marry your sweet mother. Not after Victoria watched her first daughter burn in the street. What your family has gone through . . . I couldn’t let it end like that.”

  “End?” Little Jennifer Scales was drawn tightly to her mother’s breast.

  Glorianna continued in a rush of words. “This way, you can live. Your husband can live. What he was willing to give up for you when he and I first met, Libby—it destroys me to admit it, but he’s the first dragon I’ve actually thought of as part human. He was ready to sacrifice, for the greater good. Just like your sacrifice.”

  Now the baby was buried under the blankets, and the emeralds under Elizabeth Georges-Scales’s brow burned with warning fury. “What do you think you’re about to do, Mother?”

  “About to do?” Glorianna smiled weakly through tears. “It’s done, Libby. Irreversible.”

  Libby gasped and held her abdomen. “Mother!”

  “I arranged for your hysterectomy immediately after your C-section. Dr. Jarkmand agreed to do it instead of euthanizing you.”

  “You sterilized me?”

  A flash of lightning outside made them all blink, half a second before the floor shook and thunder rolled through the room.

  “Honestly, Libby. You’re surprised I stopped you from having more mongrel children? There must be at least a small part of you that expected it, even wanted it. Otherwise, why come to Winoka Hospital? Surely Eveningstar has surgical facilities for C-sections. They’re practically outpatient procedures nowadays.”

  Squeezed against her mother’s trembling bosom, the baby began to cry. The roll of thunder continued to shake the room. “I never wanted that! I came back here because you raised me! Because you loved me! Because I thought you would want to see your granddaughter!”