Flight of Dragons

by Elianne Adams, Sadie Haller, Zoe York, Shelley Munro, Zara Keane, LC Alleyne, Skye Jones, Evanne Lorraine, Ann Gimpel

  “Fine,” I mutter. “I’m cooperating with you because I have no choice.”

  Seth shakes his head. “Whatever, Lia. I know you picked a fight because you want a distraction from worrying about Ashling. Why don’t we agree to disagree on politics and make it a taboo subject until we get back to the Fifty?”

  “Okay. I’m sorry. I just…I feel awful over what happened to Ash. The only reason Adrian knows she’s your daughter is because I asked for his help with the DNA result. If only I hadn’t involved him…” I trail off and wipe a stray tear from my cheek.

  Seth places a hand on my arm. The sensation of his warm skin on mine is oddly comforting. “Put it out of your mind for the night, Lia. You need sleep.”

  “I don’t think that I can sleep. I’m too wound up over Ash. I keep asking myself where she is and hoping it’s somewhere warm and dry.”

  The Adrian I knew as a teenager was ambitious with a chip on his shoulder. Not the type to hurt a young girl. But the Adrian I knew would never have set off bombs and killed loads of people. For the first time, I question my decision to protect and coddle my daughter as much as I’ve done. At her age, I was streetwise and had already learned to live by my wits. Ash has no experience of negotiating with people like Adrian Langley and his motley crew of bandits.

  “What if we don’t get there on time? What if we slip and die? What if—”

  “Lia.” Seth moves closer and his knee brushes against my thigh. “Stop with the morbid thoughts. We are not going to die. We’ll find Ashling, beat the crap out of Langley and his cohorts, and go home.”

  “You don’t know that. There are so many things that could go wrong.”

  “Yeah. I could also whack my head on one of the bed posts and die.”

  I open my mouth to object but he places a finger on my lips. His face is blanketed by darkness, but the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones are etched in my memory. His spicy aftershave teases my senses and makes me tingle with need.

  I want Seth. I want him here and now. In the bed, on the floor, in the shower…I know it’s insane, just a carnal impulse borne of terror and opportunity, but it offers me the lone sliver of hope in what’s been a bleak twenty-four hours.

  He shifts position and strokes my back. “Whatever you usually do to switch off worries, do it now. You—”

  I silence him with a kiss. Holy wow. It’s even hotter than the one we shared earlier. He pulls me closer and trails angel kisses down my neck, pausing when he reaches the pulse in my throat.

  “I’m sorry I have to do this, Lia. I was going to wait until you fell asleep, but if that’s not going to happen…”

  He switches on the light, temporarily blinding me.

  “Wha—” Before I can finish my question, he snaps a handcuff around one of my wrists and attaches the other cuff to a bedpost. My mouth gapes at the sight of my bound wrist. “You rat bastard.”

  A slow-burn grin suffuses his face. “I guess you won’t be willing to continue that kiss.”

  “Hell, no,” I growl. “I don’t want you anywhere near me, I’m regretting my offer to share the bed.”

  His low chuckle makes me want to slap him. “I’d have cuffed you anyway, Lia. Orders from above. I’m not to sleep unless I’m certain you can’t get away.”

  I tug at the restraints and glower at him. “Seriously? I need you to find Ash. That’s incentive enough to stay."

  “Be that as it may, I can’t take the risk.”

  “Of me throwing knives at you while you sleep?”

  He winks at me. “Has your aim improved over the past fifteen years?”

  “Release me and you’ll find out.”

  “Which, my dear, is precisely the reason those cuffs are staying on.” He punches his pillow into shape and flashes me a grin. “Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m getting some shut-eye. We got a mountain to climb.”

  With this infuriating statement, he rolls over and goes to sleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIA

  By the time dawn bathes the snowy landscape in soft orange light, we’re already on the road. If it weren’t for the circumstances—not to mention the company—I’d enjoy this journey. I’ve never been this far north. What I know of the northern province comes from books and bards, usually replete with the goriest of legends.

  I sneak a glance at Seth. He’s annoyingly chipper this morning and his cheery mood grates on my nerves. I’m still smarting over the indignity of being cuffed to the bed.

  As if reading my thoughts, he grins and taps the thermos that’s wedged into my drink holder. “Help yourself. Mrs. Trent makes a mean coffee.”

  I hesitate, reluctant to thaw toward him too quickly. On the other hand, I’m shivering with the cold, in spite of cranking up the heat to full blast. My thin raincoat is ill-equipped to deal with the harsh temperatures of Pylia.

  “I said you could borrow my coat. You should have taken me up on the offer.”

  Yes, I should have, but my pride wouldn’t allow it. I close my fingers around the thermos and unscrew the cap. When I put it to my lips, molten liquid burns my tongue. It’s bliss and agony rolled into one. “Mmm…” I moan. “This is so good.”

  “Yeah,” Seth drawls. “I prefer hearing that phrase from a woman under different circumstances, but I’m glad to have been of service.”

  I shoot him a dirty look. “Don’t think this negates last night.”

  “I regret the necessity—”

  “Like hell you do.”

  “—but I was following orders.”

  I glare at him. “Orders given by a monster.”

  “Remember our deal? No politics?”

  “That deal ended the instant you slapped me with handcuffs.”

  His handsome face cracks into a smile. “Baby, the look on your face was priceless.”

  When I flip him the finger, he erupts with laughter.

  I sniff, take another sip of my coffee, and focus on the scene outside. The landscape is stunning in its stark simplicity—harsh, rugged, and unforgiving. I wish Ash were here to see it with me…I shiver violently. What if we’re too late? How can I live with myself if I fail her?

  “Know why Pylia is called the Land of Stone and Wine?” Seth asks, interrupting my morbid thoughts.

  I shake my head. “I wasn’t big on attending school.”

  “In the old days, the Mourne Mountains were made of granite. Then the Druids cast a spell to change them into the substance we now call pylia. Pylian stone is unique.”

  “Pylian wine is made from vines that grow directly from the stone, right?”

  “Yeah. Whether the vines derive their strength from the stone, or vice versa, is unknown. At any rate, the wine produced from the grapes tastes exquisite, but the grapes themselves are highly addictive if consumed straight off the vine.”

  He’s trying to distract me and I appreciate the gesture, even if it will take more than chat to stop me worrying about my daughter. “Pylian wine is a tad out of my price range.”

  “When we make it off that mountain intact, I’ll buy you a crate.”

  When not if. At least one of us is optimistic.

  I take a shuddery breath and return my gaze to the passenger window. And lean closer. “Is that a building up ahead?”

  “Should be Smyde’s store. The map indicated—”

  A shape darts in front of the truck. Seth slams on the brakes and skids to a halt. Too late. Something thuds against the windshield and falls to the side of the road.

  We sit in the truck with the engine running. Shock turns my newly warmed fingers turn to ice.

  “What the hell was that?” I demand, my heart pounding against my ribs.

  Seth cuts the engine. “Might be a mamolan. I’ll get out and check if it’s still alive.”

  “No way.” I shake my head so hard I feel like my neck will snap. “We need to keep driving. We’re already running behind schedule.”

  “I can’t do that, Lia. And if you weren’t
so stressed about your daughter, you’d never abandon an injured animal.”

  Fuck. He’s right. We have to be sure it’s dead before we drive on.

  Seth opens the door on his side of the truck and jumps out into the snow.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I will patience. I breathe deeply and climb out of the truck.

  Seth is bending down over a mottled lump of fur. As I approach, it emits a high-pitched screech that makes my ears bleed.

  “No point in asking if it’s dead,” I say with a sigh. “Will it live?”

  He strokes the injured creature’s side. “I’m no animal healer, but I think it stands a chance if we can set its wound.”

  I look at the animal in horror. “You want us to transport that thing in the back of the truck?”

  “I’m not leaving it here. It’ll be dead of exposure before nightfall.”

  I want to say, “Good,” but bite my tongue. I fold my arms across my chest. “I am not sharing a vehicle with that creature. It stinks.”

  “You want to find Ash, you hold your nose.” He gets to his feet places his hands beneath the animal’s torso. “Come on. I need your help.”

  “Ugh.” I recoil. “Will it bite?”

  He’s struggling not to laugh. “Unlikely. Mamolans don’t have teeth.”

  “Fine,” I snap. “Let’s get the damn thing into the back. Did it damage the truck?”

  “Barely a dent.”

  I lean down and take hold of my end of the animal. It resembles a cross between the yeti and a Chihuahua. Not a good look.

  Between us, Seth and I heave the creature to the truck and hoist it into the back. The stench is horrendous.

  “I guess personal hygiene isn’t high on a mamolan’s list of priorities,” I say, struggling not to retch.

  “They’re more concerned with survival, especially out here with wolves and other predators.”

  “I can’t imagine eating that hairball would be appetizing. And if it’s concerned with survival, it should learn to watch out for cars.”

  “Here’s the deal,” he says when we’re back in our seats. “The guy who runs the supply store does a bit of healing on the side.”

  “Why are you so determined to save it?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Apart from it being the kind thing to do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because mamolans are native to the Mourne Mountains and natural climbers. They’re also more intelligent than they look.”

  I regard the hairball over my shoulder. “You want that thing to accompany us?”

  “Yes. Mamolans have an aptitude for the safest way up mountains and over rocky terrain. I wouldn’t have gone out and hunted one for the purpose, but seeing as this guy’s come our way, so to speak, let’s take advantage of the situation.”

  “I’m not sharing quarters with that thing unless you can get rid of the smell.”

  “It’s a natural repellant and part of its defense mechanisms. You’ll have to learn to live with it. Bet you don’t even notice after a few hours.”

  “Yeah…nice try. Not falling for it.”

  Seth eases the truck into motion and proceeds at a more cautious speed. We don’t have long to drive before we spy a corrugated metal building with ‘Smyde’s’ emblazoned across the side in large red letters.

  After we’ve parked, Seth leaps out of the truck and hails a grizzly white-haired man standing before the entrance. The man is wearing a Fianna uniform that has seen better days. Despite myself, I have to laugh. Torin McNeil would have a fit if he saw this soldier’s disheveled appearance.

  “Lia,” Seth says when I join them. “This is Sergeant Jack Smyde.”

  Smyde extends a hairy hand. “Pleased to meet you, miss.”

  His handshake is of the hearty, crushing variety, but I like him instantly. He has laughter lines around his eyes and an infectious smile.

  “Now what’s all this about an injured mamolan?” he asks, drawing his bushy gray eyebrows together to form a V. “Seth tells me you ran one down.”

  I jerk my thumb in the direction of the truck. “It’s in there stinking up the vehicle. I don’t suppose your store stocks air freshener?”

  Smyde chuckled. “There’s not an air freshener in the planet that will mask the scent of a frightened mamolan.”

  “I was afraid of that,” I say with a sigh.

  While Seth and Smyde deal with our unexpected passenger, I wander into the store. Despite its unprepossessing appearance from the outside, the store is packed with quality outdoor equipment and clothing. I finger a white padded jacket with a faux fur trim. Ash had wanted a similar coat in a department store on the North Side, but the hefty price tag made it out of the question. I blink back tears and force myself to focus on the present.

  Smyde and Seth carry the mamolan through to the back of the store place it on an empty packing table. Smyde produces a medical supply kit and begins setting the animal’s wound.

  Although I find the creature repellant, the fear and pain I see reflected in its eyes is almost human. Despite myself, I take one of its paws and stroke it. The animal whimpers but maintains eye contact throughout its ordeal. I’m not an animal person, but I’d never willingly inflict suffering on another living creature that wasn’t about to harm me. Guilt bites through my resolve not to get emotionally attached to the creature. If Ash were here, she’d be in raptures over the damn thing.

  After a while, Smyde stands back and nods approvingly. “Leg’s set. Now for the healing.”

  I watch in fascination as he mixes herbs and ointments in a pottery bowl and heats it over a stove. Once the mixture is ready, he spreads it over the mamolan’s injured leg while reciting words I can’t decipher.

  “What’s with the chanting? I thought only top ranking members of the Fianna were permitted to use spells.”

  Seth and Smyde exchange glances.

  “Strictly speaking, what I do isn’t officially sanctioned by the Fianna,” Smyde says, “but I have a way with animals and Torin turns a blind eye as long as I’m discreet. I never did master the knack of casting spells silently. The chanting helps me concentrate, I guess.”

  Less than a minute after receiving the healing ointment, the mamolan stirs under my steadying hand and tries to stand. Seth and Smyde help it down from the table and set it on its shaky legs. Within seconds, it has regained its balance and begins a giddy four-legged jig around the room, accompanied by a god-awful caterwauling that I assume indicates pleasure. When it has danced its fill, it skids to a halt before me and licks my hand.

  Smyde folds his arms across his chest. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “Me?” My eyes widen in alarm. “What do you mean?”

  “Seth tells me you were injured. This ointment will heal your sore ribs.”

  I swallow and look from one man to the other. “Does this mean I need to take off my top?”

  Seth’s rich laugh tickles me in unmentionable places. “I promise not to peek.”

  I glare at him but remove my coat, pullover, and T-shirt. My ribs are killing me and I need to be fit before we embark on our trek.

  The instant Smyde smooths his ointment over my skin, the nagging ache begins to dwindle. “That stuff is—”

  Smyde grins. “Magic?”

  “Yes,” I say, returning his smile. “I might just make it up the mountain thanks to you.”

  Once my ribs are healed, I dress and join Seth and Smyde in the main room of the store. We tether the mamolan to a post and give it food and water. Then Seth and Smyde set about gathering the supplies we need for our trip, including the white coat I’d so admired. I finger its furry collar and vow to give it to Ash when we find her.

  “You’ll also need these.” Smyde eyes me carefully and hands me pants in my size.

  “Good guess,” I say, glancing at the label.

  “Years of experience.” He pats the material. “This will keep you warm in the coldest of blizzards, yet it’s still lightweight enough to allow freedom
of movement.”

  The accompanying boots were hideous, yet practical. The face warmers made me laugh. Other practical supplies followed—flashlights, compasses, knives, energy bars, and dried food.

  “What will we feed our new friend during the trip?” I indicate the mamolan, which is still eating its face off. “If it eats like that all the time, we’ll have no food left by the time we reach first base.”

  The corners of Seth’s mouth twitch. “Mamolans only need food and water once a week. We’ll be back in the Fifty by then, and it can chow down to its heart’s content.”

  I certainly hoped we would be home and that Ash would be with us. Ash…I swallow past my fear and swipe away a tear. I’m not usually a weeper but this situation has my nerves pushed past their endurance level.

  “Here.”

  Seth hands me a handkerchief. I dab away the tears and straighten my shoulders. I have to remain strong and focused. I have to find my daughter.

  “I’m not usually a blubber.”

  “I know.”

  “But these last few hours…she’s all I’ve got, Seth. And I’m all she’s got. I can’t lose her. And I can’t let her down.”

  “You won’t let her down. Not with me by your side. Come. Dry your tears and let’s pack up the truck. We have a mountain to climb.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LIA

  After leaving Smyde’s, we drive to the edge of the forest and find a spot to hide the car. We don our packs and begin the journey through trees heavy with snow. The mamolan skips ahead, bleating with joy. Every few minutes, he peers back at us through his hairy face to check we’re still following. At last, light shines through a gap in the trees, and I hear the gentle lapping of water beyond.

  The River Tyl is another new addition to the region in the years since the Druids cast their spell. For a moment, I stand transfixed, hypnotized by the clear turquoise water. It’s a far cry from the muddy, polluted water that flows through the North Side.

  The mamolan bounds along the water’s edge until we come to stepping stones that are green with moss.