by Mary Karlik
He clocked his eyes around the room. Light filtered through bars covering a hole above him. Obviously, he was underground. The walls of his cell were stone except for the one facing a narrow passage. It was covered with bars like the hole in the ceiling. He’d been captured. But at least he was safe from the red dragon.
There was probably danger ahead, maybe worse than the dragon. But for now, his job was to focus on staying calm. Shivering was already eating up a good portion of his energy, allowing adrenaline to add to the consumption was not an option. Besides, eventually his capturer would come.
The figures who had shot him down and held a sword to his throat were probably also the ones who had imprisoned him. They could have sliced his throat or left him in the cell to freeze — instead, he had been given a blanket. Whoever had captured him had at least a little compassion and reason for keeping him alive.
Layla had once said that magical creatures could understand most languages. Hopefully, his capturers would understand human, and he could explain that he was not dangerous. He had to convince them to let him go. He had to get back to Layla.
Fear for her safety and frustration that he was trapped in a cell in another world simmered in his gut. He hated feeling helpless, but until his captors came, there was nothing he could do but wait.
He pulled the blanket tighter around his body and sat up. The movement sent a bolt of pain from his back to his shoulder and down his arm. The room spun, and kaleidoscope colors swirled before him. The dragon-spirit awakened.
And it wanted control.
Ian leaned on his good arm, drew in calming breaths, and focused on a single stone in the floor until the room stopped spinning and his vision returned to normal. The dragon-spirit tucked away easily, and he wondered if he was on holy ground or if there was another source keeping the spirit from emerging.
Either way, the struggle to sit had left him trembling. It would be easy to collapse where he was in the center of the room, but he wouldn’t. Lying in a heap in the middle of the cell was the action of a man with no hope. Not the impression he wanted to give whoever imprisoned him and was probably watching him. He looked at the back wall. It would give him the support he needed to sit up.
The distance was less than a meter but to Ian it seemed ten times that far. He could only manage to drag himself across a couple of stones before he had to stop and rest. With each movement, it was as if the stone was sucking strength from him.
When he finally made it to the wall, he fell against it with his good side and drew in sharp breaths. The sweat that had covered his body during the effort now caused shivers to travel through him one after the other. Exhausted from moving and shivering, he closed his eyes and focused on relaxing his tense muscles.
Rustling leaves brought him to full awareness. But it wasn’t just the sound that made him take notice. It was the pattern of the sound—as if the leaves were communicating.
He looked for the source and saw two figures walking toward his cell. They stopped in front of his cage.
One was almost the same height as Ian, but he had a slight build. His hair was dark like Ian’s but hung almost to his waist. It was loose with the exception of two plaits on either side of his head exposing pointed ears. Just like the elf figurine he’d held in the shop the man was kitted out in an ancient-style kilt that hung low in the back.
The elf’s companion was a boy with bright ginger hair. Ian guessed in human years he’d be about fourteen. The boy’s eyes darted to Ian and away as if he wanted to stare but was afraid.
The taller elf stood in front of the bars with his hand on the hilt of the sword that hung low on his waist and moved his mouth as if he were speaking. The sound that sailed past Ian’s ears was leaves rustling in a breeze.
“I don’t understand your language.” Ian’s throat burned as he spoke, and the words came out hoarse.
“You speak human?” The elf moved closer to the bars.
“Clearly, as I am human.”
The elf turned to the boy and rustled leaves at him. The boy nodded and ran down the corridor. “You appear human now, but my arrow lodged in a dragon wing.”
Ian rubbed his throat. Even that simple movement took more effort than normal. “I’m a shifter.”
The elf cocked his head as if he were studying Ian. “And what about the arm covered with dragon scales?”
“Poisoned by a dragon’s tail. That’s when I became a shifter.”
“To be infected by a dragon and not succumb to the beast is unheard of.” The elf raised his brows, and Ian wondered if it was because he didn’t believe him or because he was impressed that he survived.
“It fights for control. I fight harder.”
The boy returned with a tray holding a pitcher and cup.
The elf moved in front of the door and slipped a key in the lock. “Stay where you are. Grey will set the tray inside your cell. If you so much as flick an ear toward the boy, I will kill you.”
Ian didn’t bother to explain that he was too weak to fight even if had wanted to. He managed a nod and leaned his head against the stone of the back wall and waited while the boy placed the tray inside.
He felt like Tantalus of Greek mythology—thirsty but not allowed to drink. Too weak to crawl across the cobblestones, he stared at the jug and licked his lips. “What do you intend to do with me? If you plan to kill me, get it over with. If not, I’d be obliged if you’d help me reach that water.”
“Whether you live or die depends on you. I can’t allow a dragon to ravage the country and attack the fairies.” The elf rubbed his palm absently across the hilt of his sword, and Ian found it curious that Layla had the same habit.
“I’m not their enemy.”
The elf leaned against the bars of the cell. “And yet, as a dragon you flew close to the fairy village.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You were flying as a dragon. And with that superior dragon vision of yours, you didn’t see the fey village?”
“I was running from a red dragon. My only thought was to escape.”
“We saw no other dragon.”
“It’s the truth.” He tilted his head back exposing the scab on his neck. “We battled.” He wheezed a couple of shallow breaths. “His talon was around my throat. He would have killed me if the magic world hadn’t opened up and swallowed us.”
The elf propped one foot on the bottom of the cage. “Are you saying the dragon was in the human world?”
“Aye. And then the whole thing turned on its side, and we were pulled into this world. I need to get back. There are fairies trapped in my world. And they are in grave danger.”
“The portal to the human world was closed years ago. So how did these fairies come to be there?”
The image of the fairies that had been taken to the human world and sold for their magic crossed Ian’s mind. He had to make his captor understand. Swallowing past the dryness in his throat, he continued in a whisper. “They were abducted. I’m telling the truth—”
“Telling the truth. Forgive me for doubting you. But you’re a dragon-shifter who claims to be from the human world. I have a few problems with that. First, the only good dragon is a dead one. Second, the human world has no magic, so how can your story be true?”
“It is.” Ian eyed the jug again. Every word he spoke seared his throat like a soldering iron. “Do you know the dragon Fauth? He was sent to our world.”
“Aye, but Fauth was stripped of his magic and banished in human form. Are you claiming to be him now?”
“No. He gathered magic,” Ian wheezed.
“In a world without magic?”
“There was a Dark Harvester…” His words barely made it through his throat, and he decided that if it took him all day, he would crawl to the water. But as soon as he placed weight on his arms, he collapsed to the floor.
The door opened, and his interrogator stepped into the cell. He brought the tray to where Ian lay and poured water into the cup.
&
nbsp; Ian tried to heave himself upright but was too weak.
The elf held the vessel to Ian’s lips. “Drink. I can’t wait to hear where you’re going with this tale.”
Ian swallowed the cool liquid in deep gulps. When the pain in his throat eased, he pulled away and collapsed back onto the floor. “The stones—what are they doing to me?”
The elf sat the cup on the tray and stood. “They weaken you. It’s common magic for prisons. Kinder than shackles. Perfect for a dragon but perhaps a bit strong for a human.”
The floor was cold against Ian’s face, but he no longer had the energy to care. He stared at a crack in a stone near the pitcher and drew in a shallow breath. “I didn’t choose to have this dragon in me. I was poisoned.”
“By Fauth?” The elf helped Ian drink more water.
“No. Fauth is dead. Another dragon.” Ian took a few breaths as another series of shivers shook his body. “We fought the dragon. Me and the fairy. She killed the harvester, she killed Fauth, and it was her sword that killed the dragon who poisoned me.”
Something flickered in the elf’s eyes. “Fairies can’t kill, and even if they could, they can’t wield a sword. The metal sickens them.”
“This one can. She’s half-human and has an immunity.” Ian tried to focus his thoughts on the conversation, but the magic in the stones was drawing him toward unconsciousness. He struggled to stay awake.
“What is her name?”
Ian watched the elf’s eyes turn from pale blue to black to blue again.
The man grabbed Ian by the shoulders and shook him. “Look at me. There is only one fairy known to have a metal immunity. What’s her name?” His tone had lost its formality. This wasn’t the request of an interrogator. This was a desperate plea for information.
“Layla. Her name is Layla. And if you know her, you must be Finn.”
The man turned to the boy on the other side of the cell, and the rustling leaves passed between them in a storm. Ian could no longer resist the magic in the stone and closed his eyes.
As if he’d been caught in an autumn storm, the sound of the wind stripping the trees of their leaves roared around him as the elf barked orders.
A female elf awakened him and forced him to drink a liquid that made the world seem like a dream. He may have been stuck in a magical world, but he was still Special Agent Ian Cameron, and he knew the effects of a hallucinogen.
Both male and female elves gathered to wash him and tend to his wounds. Only a couple actually took care of him—the rest were apparently there to stare at the odd human. Normally he’d hate the attention, but he was too high to really care.
When the elves seemed satisfied that they’d done all they could for the wounds on his head and back, they left him to rest. He’d been clothed and moved to a warmer room. There was a wooden table and a couple of chairs in the far back corner. Across from the table was a cot with a proper blanket. Now if he could find some food, he could recover and look for a way home.
Still woozy from the effects of the drugs, he staggered his way across the room and sat on the side of the cot. The dragon-spirit roared—apparently, the narcotics hadn’t affected it in the same way. And without the magic from the stones suppressing it, it was strong, and it wanted control. And he was still weak from the drugs.
Ian tried to focus on the painting, but his mind was too messed up to hold his attention. The dragon fought back. The change was coming.
His vision became a spectrum of color, and his body stretched and morphed. He struggled against the shift. He had to stop it before they found out that he didn’t rule the dragon-spirit.
But he didn’t. He went full dragon. And before his shredded clothes stopped fluttering in the air, the door to his room opened, and a wee lass carrying a tray of food entered. She screamed and dropped the tray, and in a blink of his crimson dragon eye, the room was full of elves, and each one had a sword pressed against his scales.
Chapter Four
The dark clouds that swirled above Arthur’s Seat drifted away. The wind died to a whisper of a breeze, and the grass that covered both the crag and the seat glistened in the sun. It was as if the sun had risen again and the past fifteen minutes of terror hadn’t happened—except for the pulse pounding through Layla, or the tremors she couldn’t control, or the feeling of failure that consumed her.
The chief blew out a frustrated sigh. “You can’t use your magic to open a door to your world?”
The chief’s words piled on the ache in Layla’s chest and brought tears to her eyes. Determined not to cry, not to seem weak, she held her breath and worked the tears back to where they came from.
The chief didn’t say anything else, but the tilt of his head might as well have been a tapping foot.
Layla eased an exhale and forced her body straight and tall. In a meek effort to feel confident, she lifted her chin and fired a don’t-mess-with-me look at the chief. “No. I can’t open a door between our worlds. I can’t find the one I came through. And no, I didn’t go after Ian. The truth of it is—I panicked.”
The chief opened and closed his mouth like he was looking for the next question—or accusation.
Layla wasn’t going to give him the chance to find it. “Right now, Assistant Chief Constable McIntyre, I need to focus on what I can do. Those fairies were captured, brought from their world, and tortured. They gave up their magic to defeat Fauth. They deserve better than to be held in a box in a van. They need fresh air. They need to feel the earth beneath their feet. I can’t bring Ian back, at least not now. But I can ease the suffering of my people.”
The chief’s face softened. “Okay. I will close this area pending our investigation for a couple of hours. Will that give them a wee bit of comfort until you can find a better solution?”
She’d expected his face to turn red again. She’d thought he’d yell or argue. Never did she think he’d agree to help her.
“Aye.” Her eyes filled with tears again, and this time she didn’t try to blink them away. “Thank you.”
The chief looked down on the city. “I have to tell Ian’s family he’s missing.” He turned from the city view to the lads. “Doesn’t his sister have a croft in Skye? Maybe the fairies would be safe there.”
Theo grinned. “That’s a brilliant idea.”
Buzzard folded his arms and shook his head at Theo. “You want to show up at Amelia’s croft with a boot full of fairies? Do you value our lives?”
Theo shrugged. “If we can convince Andrew to come with us—he might convince her.”
The chief looked at Buzzard. “Is Ian’s brother still here in Edinburgh?”
“Aye. He’s at university.” Buzzard shoved his hands in the front pockets of his trousers and sighed. “Sir, I know it’s your duty to inform Ian’s family. But his brother and sister are all that are left to him. We know them. We’ve spent holidays together. I’d like to be the one to tell them, and I’m sure the lads would like to be there too. And … I think we can convince Andrew to make our case for the fairies.”
The chief looked back at the city. “Aye. It would mean more coming from you lads.”
Jack twirled the van keys over his finger. “Chief, I’d like to stay with the fairies while they talk to Andrew. I think we can move them up the crag to the grass. I’ll watch over them.”
“Aye. Just make sure that they’re out of plain sight. I don’t want a drone flying over catching footage of them. We don’t need to add fuel to the dragon sightings.”
“Will do.” Jack lifted a box from the van and started up the trail.
The chief walked across the car park to talk to the other officer while Buzzard, Theo, and Layla followed Jack with the rest of the boxes.
Jack found a grassy area surrounded by a group of boulders. “This should keep them out of sight.”
The chief joined them as they helped the last of the fairies out of the boxes. “Officer Fraser will keep people away. This looks like a fine place for your fairies.” He smiled at
Layla.
The chief’s smile made her uneasy. It reminded her of a traveling troll, hawking some phony amulet. The team seemed to trust him, so she tucked the feeling away and helped a lilac fairy onto the grass.
The fairy fluttered his wings. “Thank you. It’s good to feel sun on my face.”
The smile disappeared from McIntyre’s lips. “It can’t be for long, but I reckon every bit will help.”
“Aye.” The fairy lay in the grass and stretched his arms above his head. “If I were to die in the next hour, my soul would be settled because I have freedom at this moment.”
Layla fey-sized and flew around the fairies as they settled in the grass. “This is temporary, but rest and feel the earth. I will find us a way home. I promise.”
The chief crouched and surveyed the scene. “Brilliant. All these fairies…” He stood and looked at Layla and then the lads. “Well done. Now, get a move on. You only have two hours.” He started down the path to the car park.
Layla flew to Buzzard and human-sized. “What did you do with the dragon scepter?”
“It’s wrapped in a blanket in the van.”
She blew out a breath. “Good. We can’t let that thing fall into the wrong hands. I need to put a ward on it.”
“You can do that on the way to Andrew’s.” He tipped his head to Theo. “Let’s go.”
Layla looked back at the fairies as they started toward the trail. “They already look better. I hope Amelia will let them stay at the croft.”
Buzzard ushered her in front of him. “We have to convince Andrew first.”
Layla heard the anxiety in Buzzard’s tone.
“What exactly are we going to tell him?” Theo spoke from behind Buzzard.
Layla answered before Buzzard had a chance. “The truth. He has a right to know the whole story.”
