Fianna the Gold
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title page
Copyright page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
The Draca Glossary
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
Coming Soon from Dirt Road Books
Also from Dirt Road Books
Louisa Kelley
Fianna the Gold
Book 1 of the Shift Series
www.dirtroadbooks.com
Copyright © 2019, Louisa Kelley Dirt Road Books, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including recording, printouts, information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead or to business establishments or events is coincidental.
Cover design by Jove Belle
Cover photos: Dragon © Oleg Zhevelev Flame by © 88and84
ISBN: 978-1-947253-31-5
Dedication
Dedicated to the memory of the late, great Ursula K. Le Guin—author, activist, feminist, scholar, and Mother of Dragons. It all started with you, Ursula. I will forever be in your debt.
Acknowledgments
A huge thank you to Dirt Road Books for picking up the story and believing in me, and then for assigning me the most kick-ass editor imaginable, Gill McKnight. I’m deeply grateful for all of the support.
The Draca Glossary
The Council: The ruling entity of Dracan, composed of twelve Elders and the Queen, Nareen.
Draca: A gender-stable, sexually fluid race of dragon shape-shifters.
Draca Hybrid: Modern humans found to carry traces of ancient Draca DNA and inherent abilities, including the power to shape-shift. They are always connected to a current living bloodline. The DNA is not always activated; when and how this happens is still a mystery.
Dracan: The name of the sanctuary created for the Draca. It exists in an alternate reality where the Draca live in complete secret. Long ago, the dragons had been nearly annihilated to extinction by the ignorant, bloodthirsty humans. To save them, the gods of Draca gifted the dragons with a powerful world-building transformation spell, which allowed them to escape from Earth and the humans.
Dracfire: A potential state of unique dementia that dragons 1,000 years or older can experience. Among other symptoms, common effects are grandiose delusions of power, violent and unprovoked anger, and a state of extreme narcissism and confusion.
Dracling: The term for all dragons under the age of thirty.
Dracophone: Recent invention by a small group of teenage draclings, impatient with the old ways of dragons. The device allows the Draca to communicate via magical means between the two realities of Dracan and Earth.
Dragonly: To act in the manner of a dragon; usually refers to slyness and cunning.
Fire Agate: Rare, magical stone that can be used as an energetic spell transformer, and communications projector, along with other mysterious powers. Somewhat unreliable in nature but very powerful.
Gods of Draca: Taranis and Alwen (mates); the cosmic creators of shape-shifter magic and the ultimate source of the power of the Draca.
The Great Garnet: The priceless, massive, and magical garnet, located in a cave deep underground on Dracan. The gods of Draca infuse it with the power the dragons need to live on Dracan. The Queen of Draca controls the communication between the gods and the Draca, and the workings of the Garnet.
Houses of the Draca: The five houses reflect the bloodlines. Every dragon belongs to a House. The name of your house functions as a last name—e.g., Fianna the Gold.
House of Gold
House of Emerald
House of Ruby
House of Diamond
The Great House (The Queen and her immediate family)
The Simulator: A device built on Dracan to teach modern ways to the dragons before they travel to modern Earth—i.e., simulated driving lessons, among other things.
Sisters-Draca: A reference used when referring to the group collective of dragons.
Sister-self: The name used in reference to the dragon half of the dual nature.
Chapter One
Dragon Dreamed
Not for the first time, regret over her ill-thought-out actions washed over Abbie. Camping in the woods, far from any roads, alone at night, and high on psychedelic mushrooms? Her decision-making process sucked.
Janet and Sandy—the traitors—had deserted her when it started to get dark. Everything had been all happy and fine while they hiked from the car to the campground, in one of the more remote areas of the Mt. Hood National Forest. By the time they got there, ate and cleaned up, it was after three.
Sandy had started it. “I’m freezing,” she’d declared. “I’m not sure I brought a warm enough sleeping bag.”
“Yes, you did,” Abbie said. “I helped you buy it, remember?” She scuffed out an area for the tent, tossing rocks and small sticks.
Janet perched on the cooler, a thick scarf wrapped around her neck and a wool hat pulled over her ears. “It’s not going to rain is it?” she asked. “’Cause that would just suck.” She gave a worried look up at the increasingly gray clouds.
“Geez, you guys. What’s with all the fussing? Besides, once those mushrooms kick in, no one’s gonna care about the weather.”
Janet and Sandy glanced at each other.
“What?” Abbie asked. “What’s going on?”
“Well…” Sandy looked guilty. “We’ve been having second thoughts about the whole mushroom thing.”
“Yeah, and really, the whole spend-the-night thing, too,” Janet mumbled. “I never said I would camp out for sure.” Her eyes shifted when she spoke, and Abbie frowned, picking up an off vibe.
“Are you kidding me?” Abbie’s voice rose. “Both of you agreed.”
“Come on, Abbie, you’re the one who’s looking for inner peace, or something. Me and Janet were just going along.” Sandy gave her a pleading look.
Janet hefted her backpack. “Let’s go before it gets dark,” she said, still not meeting Abbie’s eyes. She sounded weird, even for Janet.
Abbie shouldn’t have been surprised. This was what always happened when she let herself trust a little. She was starting to kind of like these women, rare for a loner like her. Or, at least she liked Sandy. She had mixed feeling about Janet, her own housemate. Janet had gotten tacked on at the last minute, adding herself by default once she’d found out about the trip, because she was a high school friend of Sandy’s. Janet had acted enthusiastic at the time, and Abbie had thought, what the heck? She wasn’t used to women wanting to hang out with her, so she’d said yes.
What changed? Abbie had lived in the duplex with Janet only a couple of months and still couldn’t figure her out, although Abbie trusted very few people, anyway.
Normally, Abbie did things by herself, but this time, for some reason, she wanted company. Maybe she was being cautious about camping alone, especially stoned. Plus, it had been no small thing to procure the ’shrooms. Damn it.
“Fin
e,” she bit out. “Go home. I’m staying here.”
“By yourself?” Sandy looked horrified.
“You guys suck,” Abbie said. “We had a deal. I need to do this and I thought we were all in. I guess not. So, fuck you and see you later.” She turned her back on both of them and proceeded to set up the tent, moving with short, angry motions.
Sandy wheedled and cajoled the entire time she made camp, and Abbie steadfastly ignored her pleas. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I’ve got my cell phone.”
She avoided Sandy’s attempt to hug her, and then turned her back when Sandy walked away. Janet was already waiting on the path. She gave a brief wave goodbye, and that was that. Soon, the sounds of their hiking boots receded, and Abbie was alone in the big, suddenly very quiet, forest.
She tried to shake off the sense of rejection from Sandy and strange anxiety vibes from Janet. Let it go, weird girl. Stop the chatter in your head and open your senses. Breathe in the woods. She inhaled the pungent forest smells. This is about my inner spiritual journey, she reminded herself. Her weird, chaotic life needed big-time sorting. The proverbial “Weird Box” in her brain was chock-full of the odd, unexplainable shit that happened to her, the stuff she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Yet recently, prodded by a curious sense of urgency, she had decided a radical approach for clarity was called for. All of which seemed to justify being left alone in a semi-remote campsite overnight. At least, it had earlier, before she eyed that little bag of mushroom bits and decided to go for it. Wasn’t this what the hippies and the shamans did? Ingested psychedelics to gain enlightenment? As if. Still, she emptied the bag. No one had mentioned appropriate dosage, so, whatever. Of course, she brushed aside worries over consequences and simply settled in.
An hour later, the mushrooms had kicked in too much for Abbie to do anything but sit, eyes closed, cross-legged on the ground outside the tent. She inhaled and exhaled in deep calming breaths, then shook her shoulders out and straightened her spine as energy pulsed in her nerves like tiny electrical charges, winding her up and up and up…
Behind her lids, colors whirled and twisted like tiny tornadoes, and when she opened her eyes again, the forest was pulsing with green, shimmering beauty. Her senses exploded with physical input pouring in from everywhere; the vast, golden, shining web of life cradling her like a mother. The effects overwhelmed her. She managed to crawl into the tent and fall onto the mat, as delayed nausea and ecstasy bowled her over. Then she slid down the rabbit hole, probably for hours, sinking into a dreamy vision of wide, azure blue skies and endless miles of emerald green trees far below.
Something startled her awake. Groggy and disoriented, she reached for the tent zipper, the reality of her location sinking in. She peeked through the tiny opening and then nearly wet her pants in a jolt of shock. Two tall figures with a terrifying stalking vibe made their way toward her. Their boots crunched in the leaves as they walked, making a heavy sound, like they were big men. The almost-full moon, which the gals had planned the whole trip around, shone upon her unwelcome visitors in a witchy light. Her heart thudded in painful beats. What the hell? Was she hallucinating? Her brain was definitely very, very fuzzy. Shit! What had she gotten herself into now?
She shook her head, trying to clear her mind but the atmosphere around her still glowed in pink, mushroom-tinted lights, making her want to close her eyes and crawl back under the covers. She tried to focus and gave a frantic glance around for some sort of weapon. No help from an empty water bottle.
One man carried a rope. The other—was that a gun?
Oh, my god! Abbie scuttled farther back into the tent.
“Get out,” an arrogant, male voice commanded, prompting a horrible thought. She’d been feeling for days like someone was following her. Yesterday, her ingrained Las Vegas instincts for self-preservation had sent her ducking down a side street and crashing through someone’s yard—a familiar activity. She’d refused to think about it later, unwilling to consider that her bad choices had followed her to Portland somehow.
She went cold with shock. What the fuck? Now she was pissed. And in a panic.
“Get the hell away from me!” she yelled. “I’m calling the police!” She would, if she could find the damn phone. A frantic glance around revealed only a water bottle.
“Get out or we’ll pull you out,” the other guy called back.
Not convinced this wasn’t all in her still-tripping head—or maybe hopeful that it was—Abbie took a quick, woozy breath for courage and ripped the tent zipper open to investigate. Compelled to confront whoever was out there, she eased her way from the tent to her feet in slow, mindful movements. Two men stopped about fifteen feet away. Were they real? If so, these guys were seriously messing with her trip to enlightenment. An unexpected burst of anger flamed. She was no push over. She was a badass, so fuck these guys.
They took a few steps closer. The one on the left started swinging his rope, and the one on the right lifted his rifle and aimed it at Abbie. She saw only outlines, no faces, but the threat pouring off the men filled the air with black, hungry energy.
She was off her head and under attack. She stared at the gun, then the rope, which hissed in the dim light like a rattler on the trail. There was intent here. The vibes coming from the strangers seemed exultant, even as they threatened her. “Don’t shoot her, you fool” was the last thing she heard before a flash of hot rage, unlike anything she’d ever felt, raced through her body. Anger scalded her throat as she let out a scream—a scream of defiance rising from the earth through the soles of her feet, pouring into her very cells, infusing her with courage and power. Fueled by something primal and unstoppable, she roared, filled with power and unholy joy at the sight of her enemies as they fell away in abject fear.
Then, there was sudden ripping pain that lit her spine on fire and long seconds of terrible bursting apart, every cell spinning, until she crashed into black and fell into another fantastic dream—a wild, breathtaking dream of immense aerial power as massive wings propelled her effortlessly over mountain ranges far below and through the damp fog drift of clouds. A million clusters of stars overhead filled her with the ecstasy of total freedom, fierce and joyful. She never wanted it to end.
a
“You feel that?” Fianna flung open the cabin door.
Cold, mountain night air rushed into the small space. “Something happened. It went through my whole body, like a lightning bolt. It’s gone now, but I don’t care. We have to go.” Fianna didn’t wait for Guin and Orla. She started stripping. “I think I can sense the direction.”
“Finally!” Guin said, as she unzipped her jeans and kicked off her leather boots.
“Anything from the Fire Agate?” Orla asked, joining the rest in pulling off clothes. “Aren’t we supposed to be following our shining beacon? Although, I will say, it doesn’t seem to be working too hard.”
Fianna frowned at the pedestal and the heavy wrought iron box on top. Inside resided the supposed beacon, gifted to them for the duration of their Earth mission. Visible through the filigree lattice of iron, the precious and rare Fire Agate gemstone glowed with a moody, dull amber sheen. The jewel nestled on a royal blue velvet cushion. They were told the jewel would function as an enhanced transmitter of human energy and the veritable map to their elusive prize. No one had mentioned the jewel might be a bit testy, although Fianna had heard a few rumors.
“Whatever,” Fianna said. “Who really knows how Dracan magic works, anyway? I trust my instincts, and we need to check this out. Besides, we’ve been too long inside this stuffy cabin and my sister-self is threatening mutiny.”
“Mine, too. Let’s go. Maybe we’ll catch us a baby dragon,” Orla said.
The three shape-shifters raced out the door, dual natures humming with the promise of the hunt and, in seconds, the freedom of the skies.
Fianna’s wings snapped open, and her sister-self roared out her joy. She gloried in the crack of her bones lengthening, thi
ck and strong. They supported the width and breadth of the enormous bat-like extensions, propelling her with ease through the air. Her elegant muzzle glinted with razor-edged rows of teeth, and shining scales of gold and bronze covered her muscular body. Eyes slit in pleasure, she surrendered to the irresistible wild call of her shape-shifter nature.
She sped toward the other two women, also ecstatic in their full dragon forms, and joined them in sweeping and circling one another in teasing moves. Thick clusters of gleaming stars lit the lake below like tiny spotlights and the full moon cast a glow across the entire forest. They dove to the black, icy waters and Guin’s emerald scales glinted in the moonlight as she burst to the sky with a captured fish. She tossed it to Orla, who caught the creature in her massive ruby red jaws and, with a snap of her head, sent it sailing toward Fianna. Fianna swallowed the delicious fish and grinned with toothy appreciation at the other Draca.
Despite the aerial play, their predator natures stayed on high alert and in constant communication. On the hunt, the three scanned and listened, never forgetting their mission.
“Not sensing anything,” Orla said telepathically, after a long stretch of wordless flight.
“Have faith,” Fianna said. What else was there to do? Frustrated, she reached out, senses straining, to no avail.
“Nothing from my end.” The thin thread of response from Guin echoed down the tele-line. They soared in unison, while comments floated in a silent conversation between them.
“Soon.” Fianna had to believe. They would fulfill their mission: locate, rescue, and retrieve the rare and highly desired human hybrid, and bring him or her triumphantly to Dracan. Fianna would restore her own tarnished reputation and the mothers of Draca would once again let her give flying lessons to their precious Draclings.