by Mary Karlik
“What is it?”
“Creeping vine.” He pointed to a birch tree covered with a vibrant green ivy.
Ian whispered, “What is that?”
Finn lowered his hand. “No sudden moves.” He made chirping sounds, and a rabbit ran from the trees. In a flash, the vine stretched from the birch tree and covered the rabbit. The sound of dried leaves being trampled echoed in the air. When the crunching sound stopped, there was no sound, no movement— as if mother nature was holding her breath. And then, as if she released the breath, a breeze filtered through the trees and across the ground. The vine retreated to the tree, and there was nothing left of the rabbit but a skeleton.
Finn whispered, “Do not feel for the animal. Remember the Cràdh.”
“The only thing I feel is fear. How do we get out of here?”
Finn spoke his language into the air. The trees swayed, and their leaves rustled as if they were answering him. He turned back to Ian. “This forest belongs to the vine.” His gaze shot to Ian’s feet. He swallowed hard and looked up. “Don’t move. It has you.”
Ian’s heart thudded in his chest as he tried to convince his feet to not run.
Finn drew his sword and hacked at the vine. The action seemed to awaken other creeping vines. In a rustle of movement, they advanced toward Finn and Ian from every direction.
Finn continued to hack, but they grew back as fast as they were chopped to bits.
Fire had worked once.
“Let’s see what they do to a dragon. When I shift, get on my back. I’m going to fly the rest of the way.” Ian tossed his plaid at Finn.
Finn gazed into the sky. “What about the other dragons? What if you attract them?”
“I’ll dump you and lead them away.” He smiled. “Besides it’s easier than dropping my kilt every five minutes to save your hide.”
“And the spirit?”
“I’ve not felt a peep.”
Finn sheathed his sword. “Okay. I don't fancy riding a dragon, but it makes sense.”
“Once I shift, I can’t speak, but I can understand if you speak human.” He closed his eyes and shifted.
Finn climbed on his back, wrapped the plaid around Ian’s neck, and tied it over one of the ridges. “It’s much easier to hold a piece of wool than your scaly back.”
Ian blew a circle of fire around them as he lifted from the ground. The vines screamed and retreated to the trees.
Finn leaned forward and shouted. “When we land on the beach, we’ll be near the entrance to the dragon’s den.”
Ian dipped over the cliffs that hung above the water and scanned the area for dragons, but the sky was empty.
He extended his legs to land, but the weight of Finn on his back threw his balance off. As he touched down, he stumbled. Finn was ejected when he tripped and landed in the wet sand with a grunt.
Ian faceplanted onto the shell-covered beach and slid a few meters, tossing rocks and shells in his wake. When he finally stopped, he shifted.
Finn pushed to his knees. “You’re terrible at landings.”
“Aye. But we’re alive.”
Finn pointed to the steep cliffs. “We’re here. There is an entrance at the base of the cliffs, just a few meters away.”
Instead of taking the time to fashion the fabric into a kilt, Ian wrapped it around his body and followed Finn up the path. When it came time to shift again, it would have to be fast, and he didn’t want anything to slow him down.
As soon as they entered the mouth of the cave, Ian’s heart raced. And for the first time since they left Old Dorach, he felt the dragon-spirit stir. It was weak, but it was there. He stretched his neck left and right and sniffed the air.
Finn put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”
“Aye.” Ian held his breath and pictured the painting. He released the air in a long, slow breath. “The spirit is making sure I know it’s still there.”
Multiple versions of Finn’s face swirled before Ian, and on the inside, he felt like he had two hearts pumping blood at light speed. One powerful and dangerous, the other human and strong-willed. He pressed his hands against the wall and closed his eyes. Mentally, he shoved St. George’s spear into the dragon’s heart and repeated: “I am the master. I control the dragon.”
The dragon quieted, and he opened his eyes.
Finn smiled. “Are you good?”
Sweat dripped from Ian’s forehead. The feeling of two hearts beating merged into one, pounding twice as hard and three times faster. It was being fueled by the dragon’s power, and he knew the spirit was waiting for another chance to turn him—just as the dragon had turned Miranda.
He tried to squeeze away the memory of the dragon bursting through her body. He couldn’t rid himself of the image of her skin and muscles tearing away. If he lost the battle with the dragon-spirit, the same thing would happen to him. Would Layla feel the same ripping of skin and muscles? Would she suffer before she died? The thought of Layla suffering at the hands of the dragon turned his insides cold and hard and angry against the spirit.
“I have to shift. If the dragon destroys me, Layla will already be dead. If that happens, you kill the dragon. Sword to the eye, all the way to the brain. It’s the only way.”
Finn took the plaid from Ian. “Don’t you give in. Don’t you kill Layla. You rule the spirit.”
“Aye.” The word was cut off as he transformed. The dragon-spirit surged as soon as he shifted, but it was still weak, and Ian was ready and in control. He swiveled his massive body down the corridor.
They wouldn’t win in a battle with the dragons. Finn’s sword and arrows were useless against the plated skin, and stabbing dragons in the eye was more for one-on-one combat. If they were going to succeed, they had to be stealthy and fast.
Ian wound along the labyrinth with Finn close behind. They’d turned corner after corner without seeing another beast.
Near an intersection, Ian slowed. He smelled a dragon coming toward them from the right.
He stopped and shielded Finn with his body. With luck, the creature would continue on its course and not notice them.
As the dragon footsteps grew louder, Ian noticed an odd cadence to them. They sounded as if there was an extra footfall or maybe a tail thump. Was there more than one dragon heading their way? Whether it was one or ten didn’t matter because either way, they were probably in for a fight.
He shifted his weight to his back legs and waited for what was to come around the corner. If he attacked first, they might have a chance. But the first thing that rounded the corner was a large, blue ball. It reminded him of the yoga ball Miranda used to have. Behind the ball, a hatchling skidded around the corner. It knocked the ball toward him with its snout.
Ian knocked the ball back. It hit the far wall of the intersection and bounced to the right. The little dragon turned tail and chased after the ball.
Ian made his way to the intersection and started to turn left when Finn tugged on his wing. “I think we should follow the little dragon.”
Ian tried to look at Finn like he was crazy.
Finn got the message and whispered, “What if Old Dorach is helping us? Besides, what’s more harmless, a baby dragon or a full-grown angry one?”
Finn’s theory may not have made sense, but at least he’d come up with one.
Ian turned right. He couldn’t see the little dragon, but he heard the thumping of the ball as they wound along the undulating path. He didn’t even smell another dragon and wondered if Finn was right and the hatchling had been sent by Dorach.
The deeper they delved into the den, the more his confidence rose. Even his pulse had slowed back to normal. He was so relaxed and so confident that when he rounded the last curve, he nearly ran into the backside of a large, black dragon. The creature turned and roared at him.
Dragon instinct took control, and Ian roared back at the black dragon. His pulse raced almost as fast as that two-heart feeling as he tried to get a sense of what the exchange
meant. Had he just challenged the black dragon or had he simply said hello? Unsure, Ian stood motionless like a bairn caught with a fist full of cookies behind his back. Only he wasn’t hiding cookies—he was hiding Finn.
The black dragon roared again, and Ian eased back. This was not good. He should answer, but how?
The black dragon opened its wings and shot a flicker of fire at Ian. A warning?
Thanks to the adrenaline surging through Ian, he managed to duck in time to avoid the flame.
The dragon reared on its hind legs and spewed fire on the ceiling. Was that a challenge? He rocked his weight on his haunches and waited for the dragon to strike.
Incredibly, the creature dropped back to the ground and turned down the passageway.
Ian wasn’t sure if he should follow or beat a path in the opposite direction.
The black dragon looked over its shoulder, and three high-pitched screeches exploded from it, followed by a series of growls and roars. Somehow Ian knew an alarm had just been sounded.
The sound of beating wings and bellowing dragons filled the den. Ian shifted and turned to Finn. “Run. Stay close to the walls and in the shadows. I’ll protect you as long as I can.”
Finn took off down the passage.
Ian shifted dragon and followed with his wings spread wide to protect Finn from the flames.
On they ran through the maze of twisting, turning passages. When they reached an intersection, they turned without hesitation. Not because they knew where they were going, but because they had to keep moving. It was a terrible system, but so far one that had kept them alive.
Until they came to the third intersection.
Dragons filled every path. There was no way out.
Ian moved close to Finn and shielded him.
The dragons didn’t shoot fire, but they closed in from all four sides.
Wide-eyed, Finn drew his sword, and dragons beat their wings as they moved closer.
On the path to the right, the dragons rippled away from something moving toward them. When the dragon closest to them moved aside, Old Dorach emerged and walked to the center of the intersection. The red dragon trailed behind him.
Ian’s breath stalled. Was Dorach saving them or killing them?
Dorach kept his eyes on Ian but spoke to the dragons. “This dragon is a traitor to your kind.” He pointed to Red. “He attacked Gaul.” He held the staff up, and his words were translated into dragon.
The dragons hissed and stomped their feet.
Dorach slammed his staff on the ground, and the dragons quieted. He walked around the intersection as he spoke. “I hear you. Death to the traitor. I say we take them to the sloc.”
The dragons were quiet while his words were converted into their tongue and then broke out in a series of roars.
Ian didn’t need the translator to know they were cheering.
Dorach motioned to Ian and Finn. “Follow me.”
Finn slid his sword back into its scabbard and walked alongside Ian as the fairy led them to an alcove. In the center of the room was a huge pit. The smell of burned flesh rose from the hole along with a yellowish-green steam.
Dorach looked at Gaul. “This is a fitting end.”
Gaul nodded and hissed, and the translator supplied, “Deep enough to drown a dragon. Hot enough to fry an elf.”
The fairy continued. “And if the drop doesn’t kill the elf, the merfolk will get him.”
Old Dorach pushed Ian and Finn closer to the hole. The steam was so hot that Ian could feel it through his dragon hide. There was no way Finn could survive it.
Dorach spoke in a low voice. “This will lead you back, but to survive, Ian must remain dragon.” Then he held up his staff and in a louder voice said, “Behold the sacrifice of our enemy.” The staff translated those words, and the dragons roared and spit fire.
Fear raced through Ian. Had they been wrong to trust Old Dorach? What if Dorach wanted Layla dead as much as the dragons? All he’d have to do is kill Ian, and Layla would fall. To do it in front of the dragons would make him a god.
What were their options? They couldn’t win a battle against Dorach. Maybe if he took Dorach as hostage…
Gaul roared and charged.
In a single move, Ian swept Finn into his wings and hugged him tight against his belly. Gaul hit him from behind knocking him into the pit.
Ian could protect Finn as they fell through the steam. But as soon as they hit the water, he’d have to change to his human form or sink like a rock. If he could time it right, he would shift just as they hit the water. This would protect Finn from impact, but if the water was boiling hot, they’d both die.
As they fell, Ian stretched his tail toward the water. He’d planned to shift at the feel of the first drop of water. And when he felt his tail dip into the water, he tried. But the water took him so fast, he was fully immersed before he could change.
Blackness pressed around him as the water devoured him. He didn’t fight the descent. Couldn’t fight it. Magic kept him from moving as it dragged him to the basin.
Perhaps when they hit the bottom, the elf trapped beneath his wings would be freed.
But Ian was helpless. Helpless to save Finn. Helpless to save himself. And if he died … Layla deserved better.
She should have never left her soul in him. It was one thing to lose his life. As a Specialist Crime Division officer, it was a threat he lived with. But Layla … all she’d ever wanted was to save her sister and live a normal life. She hadn’t asked to be a hero. But she was. In every way, that half-human fairy was a hero. She’d saved the people who’d tormented her. And now she was facing death by the hands of his own fate. What a stupid system. If he died, she should be free, not die with him.
Fear turned to anger and a mighty roar built inside him as every dragon muscle coiled in readiness to fight the magic. But how? Would the magic release him once he’d hit bottom? It was his only chance. He forced his legs and tail to stretch long beneath him. As soon as his feet touched, he’d launch toward the surface.
But his tail and feet didn’t just land in the sand. He sank into the silt as if the basin was opening up to swallow him whole. Like sand that had sifted through the narrow passage of an hourglass, they were suddenly free falling again. Only as they hit the open air, his wings loosened, and Finn fell from his hold.
Ian tried to fly to him, but the space was too narrow, and the current too strong. Wind whooshed up around them, and sand fell over them as they swirled into a vast black void.
Chapter Twelve
Layla threw a spell, freezing Martin before he could slam the shovel against her skull. She turned to Andrew and Amelia. “How does he know me?”
Amelia snapped back. “I don’t know. Ask him.” She pointed at the frozen Martin. “Or do you intend to keep him like that?”
“Wait.” Buzzard wrenched the shovel from Martin’s hands and backed away. “Okay.”
Layla released the man, and he swung so hard he fell forward.
As soon as he regained his balance, he charged her again, but this time Buzzard was ready and held him back.
Martin struggled against Buzzard and yelled, “She’s a danger to all of us!”
Amelia stood in front of Martin. “She’s less of a danger than I am if you don’t calm yourself. Now what are you talking about?”
He stopped struggling and pointed at Layla. “I want her to keep her hands by her sides. And keep your distance.” Sweat rings formed under his arms and around his neck. “I know she’s not human.”
“Aye.” Layla hugged the dragon’s eye close. “I’m fey, and a good thing for you, too. There is powerful magic here—maybe even a passage between worlds.”
Martin struggled against Buzzard’s hold again. “I’ll not have it. It was fine when there was the odd thing, but this…”
As he spoke, white clouds swirled in the blue sky like an eddy in the ocean. A far-off scream could be heard from the other side of the clouds.
Buz
zard dropped his hold and stared at the sky.
Martin released a high-pitched squeal and huddled next to Buzzard. Andrew moved in front of Amelia with his arms wide.
Theo pointed at the sky. “Something’s coming.”
And then in the blink of an eye, two bodies hit the ground in the center of Martin’s back garden. One dragon. One elf.
Martin screeched and grabbed Buzzard’s arm.
“Ooof.” Air whooshed from Layla’s lungs like she’d been socked in the gut when Ian hit the ground. But she didn’t care. He was back and alive! She wanted to run to him, to wrap her arms around him, and hold him until she was sure he was real, and she wasn’t dreaming.
Instead, she stumbled toward him as she struggled to suck air back into her lungs.
Amelia clung to Andrew’s arm and half whispered, “That’s a dragon.”
Buzzard pealed Martin off him and walked toward Ian. “No, lass. That’s your brother.”
Amelia ran to the dragon as it groaned and rolled on the ground. “Ian Cameron if that is you, you’d better show yourself.”
Ian let out a long groan and shifted to his human form.
“So you’re a dragon now.” Amelia backed away from her brother. “And cover yourself.”
Layla, still struggling to breathe, obliged him with a clothes glamour.
Ian sat up and looked at his sister. “Hi, Amelia. It’s good to see you, too.” He scanned the garden. “Oh, we’re home. Why here?” He stood and looked from Layla to Amelia to Andrew and back to Layla. “I’m not the only one who’s got a story to tell.”
Tears stung Layla’s eyes, but joy filled her heart. She wanted to fall against his chest, to feel his arms around her, to feel her arms around him. But not in front of an audience. Not when she didn’t know if he felt the same way.
With her insides trembling and a smile that she couldn’t control, she stood in front of him. “You’re back.”
Ian smiled down at her, and she saw what she hoped was a little sparkle in his eyes. He reached his arms out, almost like he was going to hug her, but then dropped them to his sides, and her heart pinched a wee bit. “Aye. I am.”
