Dragon in the Mist

by Julia Mills

  Brighter now, its rays shining upon her entire body, the sun highlighted every mutilation with more definition and depth. Their shadows formed a grotesque mosaic, connecting the marks with the oozing and festering wounds, covering every inch of skin she could see with a constant reminder of her hell on earth. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she tried to formulate a plan, one that would assure Thanatos’ destruction – even it led to her own death as well.

  Reinforcing the tiny part of her mind she’d been able to keep hidden from the demon, Mara pulled on the small effervescent link she shared with the Guardsman. Exhaustion and desperation has made her careless the first time she’d reached out to him. She’d been sure Thanatos wouldn’t hear her. Thought her was otherwise engaged. But the bastard could smell hope like a fly sniffs out a pile of shit, and it was her hope when the dragon responded that had given her away. Anything positive, anything optimistic or encouraging threatened the demon’s power, made him angry, made him lash out. The Guardsman’s voice had been a symbol of what Thanatos hated most of all, and like all good and pure things in the world, he’d destroyed it.

  Next time I’ll be more careful. If there is a next time. There has to be a next time…

  Hours passed as she carefully pushed magic, bit by minuscule bit into the bond she shared with the dragon. Knowing if she could make it stronger, along with her mental blocks, she might just be able to alert the Guardsman of her location, maybe even prepare him for Thanatos’ next attack.

  Suddenly, without warning, the demon whispered, “What are you up to my little plaything?”

  “Nothing,” Mara quickly answered, moving her thoughts as far into her mental box of secrets as she could.

  “Not trying to talk to that filthy dragon again, are you?” He taunted. “I’d hate to have to destroy him so soon after his reappearance.” Thanatos’ cackling attacked Mara’s mind like thick, jagged shards of glass. Her body shook with such ferocity that she started to slide down the wall, the rocks tearing through her tattered clothing, abrading the tender skin on her back.

  Finally, able to think past the pain, enraged by the demon’s threats, Mara challenged, “Like you’re not planning to destroy him anyway. To destroy all the dragons. To destroy everything that is good and just in the world! You’re nothing but a no-good piece of shit and I’m tired of listening to your irrelevant boasting.”

  Pain, fiery, burning, agonizing pain shot through every fiber of her being. Her vision blurred. Bile ran from her mouth, coating her chin and chest. And all the while, Thanatos screeched with laughter, “A no good piece of shit? Is that what you just called me?” His tirade grew louder, his irritating voice more piercing with every word.

  The assault on her body became more intense. It felt as if knives of iron were flaying the skin from her body from the inside-out. To add insult to injury, the demon continued to roar, “This no-good piece of shit owns you – body and soul, you wretched little witch and I will use you until there is nothing left but a jawbone and mop of hair for your worthless family to bury.”

  “Go ahead,” she ground out through gritted teeth, her fury combining with her agony and threatening her very consciousness. “I have nothing left. You took it all. Kill me. As far as I’m concerned, I’m already dead.”

  Then, as quick as the snap of two fingers, the fire in her veins was extinguished, the pain in her head disappeared, and the shards of glass and iron blades were gone. More furious than she could ever remember being, Mara goaded, “But you can’t do that can you? You can’t kill me. You would have nowhere to go. Your evil, slimy, black soul would be sucked back into the Pits of Hell where you would be punished for all eternity for your abject failure.”

  Using the eerie, creepy silence to her advantage, she continued to rant, her words filled with venom, “You failed! Do you hear me? YOU. ARE. A. FAILURE. Eighty years those fucking wizards and hunters and whoever else you tricked into helping you keep the Guardsman Garrett Acheson hidden. But you, a worthless excuse for a demon, led his brother, Grey, right to him. You threw away your last chance to possess one of the strongest, fiercest, most feared warriors of all time.” She laughed aloud, its sound maniacal even to her ears. “I thought I was a loser, but you, Thanatos, Son of the Goddess Nyx, are the King of all Losers. Death Incarnate,” she scoffed. “Whatever. Fucking Idiot Incarnate is more like it.”

  No sooner had she thought the words than the fire returned to her veins, the agony to her head, the torture to her body, and this time it was a hundred times more intense. Looking through her tears, she watched long strips of her skin as it peeled away from the muscle of its own accord, like snakes slithering back under the rock they came from. Convulsing from the pain, unable to scream aloud, Mara summoned all the strength left in battered body and spat, “Do it! Do it, you spineless bastard! Kill me. You know you want to.”

  Her blood boiled, her brain shook against her skull, and her heart pounded. Praying for death, hoping she’d pushed Thanatos far enough this time, the witch continued her assault through gritted teeth, “A fucking loser is all you’ll ever be.”

  The agony increased. The breath froze in her lungs. Her heart stuttered, skipping a beat before stuttering once again. Her prayers were finally being answered. She would die, and Thanatos would be without a host.

  Finally, at peace, the witch waited for death, welcomed it with open arms, but once again Fate had other plans as the icy fingers that were dragging her to Hell stopped their ascent. A clap of thunder rocked the cave. Bolts of lightning flashed brighter than the sun and a voice she’d never expected to hear again roared, “NO!”

  A powerful blast of pure, white magic was forced into her every cell. Thanatos was knocked unconscious, and Mara left gasping for air, fighting to remain awake.

  “Ye will not die, mo bhana-bhuidseach beag. Not while I still draw breath.” The Guardsman’s voice was soft and reassuring, his low baritone rumble a balm to her soul. It was as if she was floating on a cloud, the darkness closing in all around her, but on this occasion, hope – the one thing she’d lost so long ago – shone like a beacon guiding her home.

  Too weak to stay awake, the last thing Mara heard before succumbing to unconsciousness was the dragon’s faithful promise, “Hold on, mo dóchas ach amháin. I will not fail ye.”

  Chapter Three

  Running until he could run no longer, the soles of his feet blistered and bleeding, the rays of the noonday sun battering his sensitive eyes, Uther rested beneath the canopy of a large kapok tree. Nestled against its huge trunk, using the massive roots like armrests on the largest lounge chair in the world, the Guardsman dangled his feet in the cool, clear water while focusing on his next move.

  Letting his head fall back, and his eyes slide shut, he followed the thin, winding glow of the bond he shared with Mara, the need to touch her mind a living, breathing entity within him. Keeping a watchful eye on her condition all night, Brennus maintained a minuscule, but steady, stream of healing magic flowing to their mate. Uther knew she hadn’t succumbed to the call of the Grim Reaper from his dragon’s reports, but now he needed to check on his little witch for himself.

  Sliding into her mind, pleasantly surprised to find Thanatos once again, the Guardsman stopped to listen to the slow, rhythmic beat of her heart, smiling as his skipped a beat to fall in sync with hers. “Aye, mo ghrá, that is what I love to hear,” he murmured softly. “Sleep, mo maité, for the battle is yet to come.”

  Letting the satisfaction of simply being alone with the one the Universe had made for him, even if only touching her mind, wash over him, Uther was unexpectantly and swiftly drawn into Mara’s dream. Gone was the peace and solitude he’d found at the outskirts, painfully replaced by the cacophony of anguished screams and noxious flames.

  Dressed in the white robes of novitiates within a convent of the Roman Catholic Church, young girls were nailed and chained to wooden crosses in front of Christ’s table within what at one time had been a beautiful Chapel. Their wail
ed prayers to the Heavens made it abundantly clear they preferred death over the constant torment of Thanatos. Crowns of thorn, not unlike the one worn by the Savior, had been pushed tight upon their heads forcing vibrant red rivers of their life’s essence to join the tears flowing down their soot-covered cheeks.

  The scent of fresh gore and newly cleaved flesh filled the Guardsman’s senses at the precise moment that his mind’s eye landed on the golden chalice and jeweled paten sitting front and center on the blood-stained altar. Unfortunately, it was easy to recognize that the bread symbolizing Christ’s body had been replaced with human hearts and the wine with the victim’s blood.

  Letting his spirit be drawn closer to the table draped in plasma-soaked royal purple silk, Uther cursed in the language of his kin as his fears became a reality at the sight of the bodies of the nuns, laying in a pile on the floor after being slaughtered like livestock. His skin crawled watching the maggots and demonic rat-like vermin from the depths of Hell feast upon what was left of their carcasses.

  The hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end as cackles of maniacal laughter shook the confines of his mate’s mind. With his spirit slowly turning towards the obnoxious sound, Uther could not believe his eyes. There, floating in midair, blood dripping from her mouth and chin, pieces of flesh covering the front of her tattered and torn frock was Mara being inhabited by the unholy Death Incarnate.

  Pain, the agonizing ache that can only come from sharing the torture of one’s Beloved, slashed at his heart, stole the breath from his lungs and made his dragon roar with the need to protect. The cornflower blue eyes that had led his clawing journey to the surface had been painted with the brush of pure evil. Their elliptical pupils, the color of rotting onions, glowed against the iridescent black backdrop of a malignancy no doctor could remove.

  Her long, thick curls, now the hue of a fine chalice of port, hung in clumps, a drastic contrast to the stark, bloodless white of her cheeks. Undulating rivulets, the color of moldy bread, snaked down her neck and disappeared under the collar of her clothing before attacking her arms and legs, creating a grotesque montage of venomous poison that devoured not only her humanity but chewed away at the very core of her soul.

  “Your day of retribution is here, little angels,” the coarse voice of Thanatos taunted the young woman who until his siege of their home had sought a life of servitude to their God. “Your souls are no longer your own. The love you have for a lost deity, the Holy Trinity you pray to even now, will be severed from your still-beating hearts.”

  Floating closer, arms extended, fingers stretched forward as far as they could reach, Mara’s nails grew to the length of large tent spikes, their sharp tips pointed at the eyes of the oldest girl. Forcing the witch’s feet to the floor, Thanatos continued his touting monologue, “Your deaths, the raw power of the faith and love you so freely gave to your Savior being ripped from your fragile little souls, will become the magnificently sinful fuel that flows through my veins.”

  Sliding the razor-sharp tip of the talon jutting from Mara’s index finger through the thin white cotton of the lead novitiate’s gown, Thanatos exposed the poor creature, laughing at her embarrassment as he crowed, “When I am done with you, your bodies will be empty husks, food for the serpents. You are useless for anything other than consumption. I am sure you will be forgotten before your empty flesh bags grow cold.”

  Throwing back Mara’s head, Thanatos’ psychotic laughter shook the rafters as he added, “Nothing tastes better than the warped and rotting spirituality of a true believer. I…”

  The demon’s words were cut off like a cleaver wielded by a butcher chopping through bone. Torrent winds combined with a salty mist beat at Uther’s psyche leading him to believe Mara’s recollections were heading for the shore, seeking a respite from the horrific nightmares of a reality she was being forced to relive.

  Several long moments passed while he waited for his mate’s unconscious mind to settle, but the storm only gained momentum. Bolts of lightning burst from its depths. Thunder rumbled like the pounding of horses’ hooves against a field of broken rocks. On and on the gales of Mara’s anguish battered her abused and fragile mind, her guilt eating away at the very fiber of her being.

  Humming the tune his mother, Grainne, a Healer among their Clan, sang when she took care of their kin, Uther skipped to his favorite stanza, hoping to in some small way calm his little witch and relieve her of the overwhelming recrimination and guilt hanging around her neck. “May the strength of the winds of the Heavens bless you, bringing fresh rain to wash your spirit clean, making it sparklein the sunlight. And may you come to realize that as insignificant as you may feel in this great Universe, you are an important part of Her plan. You are the child of One who loves you, the mate of one who will adore and protect you, and your heart beats with the blessing of the Goddess of All.”

  Just as if he’d extinguished the flame of a candle, the squall of Mara’s guilt came to a screeching halt. Silence, the cold, haunting absence of everything, not unlike an empty grave, filled not only Uther but also Brennus, who growled warily as he dropped his underbelly to the ground and pointed the huge battle horns atop his head towards the deep, black hole of nothingness.

  Holding perfectly still, focused on the stuttering beat of their mate’s heart, both Guardsman and Dragon King were completely blindsided by the muffled, nearly imperceptible sound of hushed crying. With his conscience racing towards the tiny, heartbreaking sobs, Uther was struck with an entirely unexplained vision, wafting from the farthest corner of Mara’s mind.

  The bold shadow of a massive mountain burst forth, its smoke rising against the deep blue, burnt orange and brown of a sensational sunset. Following where he was led, the skin of Uther’s face and hands were brutally assaulted by a sudden blast of searing smoke and ash. The stench of hot rocks and smoldering iron made his eyes water and his throat ache, as his mind’s eye gawked at the rivers of red molten lava clawing at the rocks, climbing the jagged terrain, seeking expulsion from the earth’s core.

  Spinning like a top, his mind’s eye was suddenly swept to the outer crust of the very same mountain, before immediately being pulled into the highest cave on the far side of the crag. The briny scent of fresh water seeping into the currents of its cousin, the sea, invaded his senses, calling to him, beckoning that he come, demanding his presence.

  Jumping to his feet, Uther’s eyes popped open as he demanded, “Yes, maité mo chroí. Show me the way,” aloud as well as telepathically.

  Allowing his eyes to focus on the present as his mate’s unconsciousness drew a map in his mind, the Guardsman slowly scanned his surroundings. Searching for anything new or threatening, Uther’s gaze landed upon a male jaguar lounging on a petrified log as if he owned the world.

  “Hello rí na jungle, have I happened into your Lair?”

  Watching the recognition flash in the depths of the jaguar’s whiskey-colored eyes, Uther let his lips curve into a grin. “Aye, mo chara, ye see I am a dragon, yes?”

  Several lazy blinks and crinkling of the huge cat’s nose was the only reply the Guardsman received. He could feel the consciousness and intelligence of the animal, knew the jaguar posed no threat, but still wanted to give the feline the respect he deserved as the largest and most deadly predator in the Amazon.

  Taking several deliberate steps towards the big cat, sure to maintain eye contact as he studied the six-foot-long, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound feline’s frame, Uther asked, “Would ye like to go on a journey with me, Rí? Show me the way? Have me back should danger arise as I will have yers?”

  Waiting patiently as the jaguar yawned, his purring grumbles a gentle reminder of his dominance in the face of another, larger predator, Uther grinned as the big cat leisurely pushed up onto his paws and gracefully jumped from his perch. Ambling forward, the deep brown rosettes adorning the jaguar’s luxurious tawny fur contracted and expanded, mimicking the petals of the flower they were named for and giving the Guardsman even m
ore to appreciate about his new friend.

  Standing perfectly still, Uther allowed the feline Rí, or King as he thought of him, to rub against the outside of first one and then the other of his legs. The Guardsman knew the jaguar was using the scent glands at the corner of his mouth to mark him. It was King’s way of warning other predators that Uther was his friend, and that if they messed with the dragon they were also messing with the jaguar. Finally finished, King announced that the Guardsman had passed inspection with a low grunt and a single nod of his formidable head.

  Stalking away from the river bank, King took three long strides before glancing over his shoulder and with a short, gruff mew called for the Guardsman to follow. Doing as instructed by his new guide and opening his mind completely to the animal, Uther shared the information he’d gleaned from Mara’s memories, instantly recognizing that the jaguar knew the mountain and more to the point, the quickest route to get there.

  Picking up the pace, both man and big cat raced through the deepest, densest parts of the jungle, as if they’d been working together for a lifetime. Uther thanked the Heavens for his newfound friend and asked for protection for his mate.