Dragon’s Blood: A Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  “Aye, we could stand straight. After we exchanged names, they offered us meat,” Zelli said.

  “Aye, a succulent young pig for us to share,” Quade added.

  Damn it. Eating with the giants was almost as bad an idea as eating in Hel’s realm. Accepting food gave others power over you, but perhaps dragons were strong enough to resist. Their magic trumped the giants’ by a good big bunch.

  “We tried to talk with them whilst we ate,” Quade went on. “Warning them as it were of evil lurking at our gates.”

  “They laughed and dismissed our warnings.” Zelli shrugged. “I can see where they would. After all, no one in their right mind visits Jotunheim. ’Tisn’t as if there’s a line of sorcerers anxious to move in and take up residence in a land of perpetual winter.”

  “We were nearly done eating when Loki popped through a portal,” Zelli said. “I recognized him from our earlier meeting in Odin’s halls. Except he’d sobered up.”

  I groaned. Couldn’t quite keep it in. Loki was such bad news. Nothing decent ever came of even making eye contact with him. Crap. No wonder we were sitting under a ward, and both dragons were spun out about the world being out to get us. The slimy touch of Loki’s magic had that effect on people.

  “Let me guess.” I shoved my tired shoulders straighter. “He told you Odin is in cahoots with the Celts—”

  “Aye, but how did ye know?” Quade lowered his head nearer to mine, eyes spinning like pinwheels.

  “I didn’t. But Loki is a shit-stirrer. He’ll say whatever he thinks you’ll swallow and seed it with a believability casting. And laugh and caper all the while, so you don’t think too deeply about the line of warmed-over crap he’s trying to shove down your throat.”

  “I dinna trust him on the face of things,” Quade said.

  “Nor did I,” Zelli broke in. “I tossed a truth spell over him once he began nattering on about Odin and the Celts.”

  “Somehow I can’t see him sitting still for that,” Rowan muttered.

  “He dinna have a choice,” Zelli said.

  I wasn’t so sure. Loki had taken advantage of his time in Asgard to strengthen his magic by borrowing lavishly from the Aesir. I’d watched him take a little here and a little there. I’d even been called on to treat the odd god or goddess who’d fallen mysteriously ill. I quietly fixed things and never told them who was stealing their power. Loki would have denied it. And plotted revenge. Like I’ve said, I give the trickster god a very wide berth.

  “Exactly what did he say?” I prodded.

  Quade nodded somberly. “He said Odin has had several meetings with Gwydion, Bran, Arianrhod, Arawn, Andraste, and Dewi since our get-together in the Celts’ council hall. According to him, the four winds and Poseidon even took part in a couple of them. Odin has determined the Nine Worlds are finished, and he’s questing about for a place the Aesir can run to. By Loki’s account, Odin asked whether there might be space for them on the Celt’s borderworld.”

  “The giants dinna like that at all,” Zelli broke in. “They fussed and fumed and stomped until the verra floors shook. Loki told them he was joking, but then he winked at me. My truth spell had been acting…oddly, and it quit working at all after that.” She blew out a smoky breath. “It gets worse, though. I picked up the same scent wafting about him that I sensed around the pillar that nabbed Bjorn.”

  I snarled. Tricks like that were vintage Loki. He ran roughshod over anyone he could for his own amusement.

  “Moving in with the Celts is a pile of shit,” Rowan said. “Odin knows better than to ask. For a couple of reasons. First, the Celt’s borderworld is small. Second, they’d have less than zero interest in sharing it with people they’ve always considered inferior.”

  I filed the information away. I’d never actually heard anyone say what I’d suspected forever: the Celts viewed themselves as a cut above their Norse counterparts. Wonder how they felt about the Greek and Roman pantheons? Or any of the Asian ones. I circled my mind back to more relevant ground.

  “How does Rowan’s father fit into the equation?” I asked.

  “Loki told us ’twas naught but a red herring to keep us occupied,” Quade replied.

  “I asked him how he even knew about Rowan’s father,” Zelli said.

  “And?” I leaned forward.

  “He left as precipitously as he’d arrived.” She rolled her spinning eyes.

  Alarm bells tolled deep within me. I’m a truth sayer among my other talents, and none of what Loki said held the ring of facts, except a single item. “They do want to keep us occupied. Or Loki does.” I spoke slowly. “But he has plans he’s not revealing. Probably something to do with shielding Rowan’s dragon father from discovery.”

  “Do you suppose he’s been in contact with him?” Rowan asked.

  “I have no idea, but I wouldn’t put it past him. He might have been the driving force behind Cadir talking Ceridwen into the Breaking spell. It’s something very much in character. The bigger the shitstorm, the better he likes it.”

  “We need to ask Dewi if she’s been part of secret meetings with the other Celtic gods and Odin,” Rowan said.

  “I hate to anger her, but she canna lie to another dragon,” Zelli said. I thought she sounded tired, but I might have been reading her wrong. Or maybe I was projecting because I was weary to my bones. The problems we faced were suddenly a whole lot more complicated than Ceridwen getting a wild hair up her ass and shattering Midgard to drive Rowan back to her side.

  This was starting to hold all the appeal of a puzzle with layers hidden inside other layers until you weren’t sure where the beginning was. Or the end. Normally, I enjoyed that type of challenge, but not when the stakes were so high and the penalty for a mistake so hazardous.

  A ripping, tearing explosion brought me around fast, in time to see a ruby claw slicing neatly through Quade’s ward. “Why are ye hiding?” Dewi punctuated her question with a shrill bugle.

  “We are not hiding,” Quade informed her.

  “Merely being prudent,” Zelli said and bugled back.

  I raked a hand through my hair. With all the racket the dragons were making, I was certain a lot of Vanheim’s residents would come running and hide themselves in the thick trees around my cottage. Dragons in the sky were commonplace, but dragons on the ground talking with you weren’t.

  Two sets of talons finished off the hole Dewi had sliced in the ward. She began to peel it back, but Quade said, “Doona bother,” and withdrew the magic powering his barrier.

  I switched to telepathy to shield our discussion from the prying ears I was certain had to be nearby. May as well tackle the crux of this head-on, so I asked Dewi, “Have the Celts had secret meetings with Odin?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Breath whooshed from my lungs. She’d not only spoken true, she’d sounded outraged. Her next words proved it.

  “Why would ye think such a thing?” Her spinning gaze roved from me to Rowan to the other dragons.

  “Loki told us, when we went to Jotulheim to secure cooperation from the giants,” Zelli said.

  Dewi tilted her head back. Fire shot from her mouth and lit the night sky. “Ye canna believe a word from that one. Ever. What else did he have to say?” She listened while Quade outlined the gist of the trickster’s message. I’ve never understood his nickname. Trickster implies someone with a sense of humor. Nothing about any of Loki’s antics are the least bit funny to anyone except him. He keeps on keeping on until he’s inflicted maximum damage.

  “Och. Now I ken why ye built a ward.” More fire flew from Dewi’s mouth. She appeared to appreciate the necessity of keeping clear of the trees. Perhaps her fireworks display would thin out the crowd of eavesdroppers, but I doubted it.

  “How were ye able to defeat my casting?” Quade spoke up. “My wards are strong.”

  “Because I command Celtic power, but now I’m sorry I removed it. We must be free to talk, and there is no time to waste.”

  �
�You carry news from Valhalla?” Rowan asked.

  “Aye.”

  Quade’s ward had been subtle compared with the ton-of-bricks dragon magic that thumped around us. It took a moment before the pressure inside the dome balanced out and breathing became easier. I narrowed my eyes at the dragons. “No fire. No smoke, either.”

  “We willna be here long,” Dewi said, as if that answered my request. “The other Celts are on their way back to Inverlochy Castle—”

  “Nooooo,” Rowan cried. “The witches—”

  “They willna bother your precious witches,” Dewi cut into Rowan’s protest. “’Tis important they remain near enough to be available. The world where we settled is at least two hours’ travel time.”

  “Will they explain to Patrick and the others why they’re there?” Rowan pressed.

  “Probably not,” Dewi answered her. “We are not in the habit of explaining anything to mortals.”

  “Well then, I need to go to them so they’re not frightened into leaving, and all the work that went into their garden will be for naught.” Power flickered around Rowan as she set a travel spell in motion.

  “Remain here!” Dewi thundered.

  “But I can’t.” Rowan added magic to the enchantment flaring around her.

  I gripped her arm. “At least stay long enough to hear what Dewi discovered.” Rowan’s mulish expression told me I hadn’t gotten through. “You may not like this,” I went on. “I’m not fond of it myself, but you are smack dab dead in the center of whatever happens next. The fugitive dragon is your father. You’re who can cast a blood vector to locate him.”

  She tried to extricate herself from my grip, but I held fast. “I’ll make time for the things I need to do,” she muttered. At least she’d stopped feeding power into her spell.

  “This willna take long,” Dewi said. Without waiting for Rowan to reply, she plowed on. “Most of this is secondhand because I flew away from Valhalla shortly after the two of you left. As ye well know, I met you in Fire Mountain.

  “Odin stomped about cursing, but then he strode from the room. As soon as he was gone, Loki picked his head up looking a whole lot less inebriated than he’d pretended. Arawn was convinced he hadn’t been drunk at all.”

  Rowan’s teleport spell guttered and died. “So he was spying?” she asked.

  “’Twas Arawn’s guess. Gwydion’s too. They were readying themselves to leave, but Thor whistled a few times. Must have been a prearranged signal because servants bearing platters of food marched into the great hall. Thor rose and bowed to my kin, inviting them to break bread with him.”

  I frowned. “That’s not like Thor at all. He has a prodigious appetite, and sharing anything edible isn’t his way.”

  “Bran sensed something amiss,” Dewi went on. “Out of us all, he commands the most delicate magic. While everyone was eating and drinking and chatting of this and that, he made a surreptitious round of those who remained in the room.”

  “What did he find?” Zelli asked.

  “Thor is many things, but subtle isn’t one of them. He was doing his damnedest to keep Loki from leaving. He doesn’t trust him, and Odin’s instructions were to keep an eye on Loki. ’Tis a far simpler proposition in Valhalla than following him around the Nine Worlds and hoping he doesn’t notice.”

  “Sorry, but that’s old news,” I told the dragon. “They hate each other. Loki has always been jealous, and he’s made Thor’s life miserable with some of his nasty manipulations. Thor’s lobbed a few missiles of his own, though.”

  “Loki left, anyway,” Dewi went on. “As soon as he was gone, Thor called on Norse spirits to shield the hall and gathered us close. Us being Gwydion, Arawn, Bran, Andraste, and Arianrhod. Poseidon and the four winds decided to leave. Thor had had quite a bit of ale by then, so his tale was somewhat disjointed, but according to him, Cadir has been crafting channels from the outer borderworlds to Midgard.

  “’Tis where the monsters and evil creatures are coming from. Cadir promised them free range of Midgard.”

  “What outer borderworlds?” Rowan asked. “I’ve never heard of them.”

  I had; icy tentacles slithered around my spine. “I thought they were cordoned off.”

  “They were,” Dewi snapped. Smoke oozed from around her jaws. “Cadir has been busy. He’s chewed through three of the blockages, which is no doubt how he escaped from where we imprisoned him.”

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck they are?” Rowan’s voice was shrill.

  “In a word, they’re the containment cells for all worlds,” Dewi said. “When the universe was young, still forming, the gods foresaw the need for a place to corral evil. Some wicked creatures are too lethal to risk keeping on lands where decent souls tread.”

  “They assigned six very small borderworlds to house dangerous rejects”—I picked up the story—“and cordoned them off from the rest of everything with impregnable blockades.”

  “What I want to know is how Cadir subverted the work of the gods,” Quade growled.

  “How else?” Dewi ground her double rows of teeth together until the sound twisted my stomach. “He had help. Loki added his magic. But even with all that, they needed a fragile spot, a way inside worlds that had been barred to them.”

  “The Breaking,” Rowan snarled.

  “Exactly,” Dewi said. “This next is conjecture on Bran’s part. I’m certain he’s deep in the crystals he left at Inverlochy seeking confirmation. But he believes Cadir and Loki hatched up a scheme long before Cadir was banished.”

  “That blasted dragon,” Zelli cried. “He was always too vain for his own good.”

  “Aye. A definite weak link in the chain,” Quade agreed.

  I was still arranging those same links and not liking what I came up with. “Bear with me a moment,” I said. “You suspect that Loki tapped Cadir, knowing about the prophesied doom were a Celt and a dragon to mate. How’d Ceridwen get involved?”

  “Another weak link.” More teeth gnashing from Dewi before she went on. “Ceridwen flitted through the worlds. She loved flaunting her beauty—and her power. We believe Loki saw right through her and pushed Cadir into her path.”

  “Two corruptible entities,” I muttered. “The doomsday prophecy would provide a smokescreen for what Loki had in mind for the future, so blame wouldn’t fall on his head. He’s a master of misdirection. When the dragons banished Cadir, you played right into his hands.”

  “Pah. Nice to know I was a convenient chip in Loki’s board game.” Rowan shook her head.

  “Ye werena alone. He manipulated us too.” Dewi spat the words.

  “I actually believe what Ceridwen said that day in the Celts’ meeting hall about the Breaking spell getting away from her,” I told Rowan. “If she was conned into casting it, she probably assumed her dragon lover—” Understanding rammed me like a tumbling meteorite.

  “What?” Rowan leveled her golden eyes on me.

  “This is simple. So uncomplicated, I’m amazed we didn’t catch on before,” I replied. “Cadir reached Ceridwen from his exile—probably with a generous assist from Loki—and told her if she cast XYZ spell, it would free him and he’d hurry back to her side. He loved her, Missed her. Yada, yada.”

  Dewi swatted me so hard with a foreleg I stumbled and almost fell over. “That’s it,” she crowed.

  “Sounded true enough to me,” Zelli muttered.

  Rowan was nodding slowly. “It makes a hell of a lot more sense than Mother going to all the work of casting a spell to drive me back to her side. She never gave two fucks about me.”

  “We have to locate Cadir,” Dewi said. “Immediately.”

  “What are we going to do with him?” I asked. If an outer borderworld didn’t do the trick, nothing would.

  “Two choices,” Quade spoke slowly, almost as if he was waiting for one of the other dragons to tell him to shut up. No one did, so he went on. “We drag him before the dragon gods and let them pass judgement.”

  �
�Or we hold him down and cut out his heart,” Zelli said. “He can grow another, but not if we cast the first into the throat of Fire Mountain soon enough.”

  Shock raced through me. I’d had no idea it was possible to kill a dragon. Zelli had just revealed what was surely a deeply guarded secret.

  “I vote for Plan B,” I said. It seemed like a surer bet than a bunch of dragon gods who’d never met Cadir and who might take pity on him. Bastards like that were always really sorry. Willing to promise anything—after they’d been caught and cornered.

  “Agreed,” Dewi said in a crisp tone that betrayed nothing. “Once he’s out of the way, we can look to repairing the pathways he’s crafted.”

  “Not trying to be a naysayer,” Rowan spoke up, “but what if I can’t find him? Blood vector spells are usually foolproof, but nothing about any of this is normal.” She narrowed her eyes. “This cave or cell or wherever Mother’s located, clearly isn’t shielded from outside communication.”

  “It should be now,” Dewi told her.

  “Yeah, but if it isn’t, how do we know she’s not still talking with the dragon who sired me behind the scenes? Could be really bad if she overhears something.”

  “We have to assume Loki’s claws are sunk into this two-meters deep,” Quade said.

  “Any chance of returning Ceridwen to the Celts?” Zelli asked.

  Dewi shrugged amid clattering as scales rubbed against each other. “We could take her back, but what would it accomplish?”

  “What about the Ninth Circle of Hell?” Rowan asked. “Ours, not the one associated with the Nine Worlds. It’s supposed to have a gatekeeper.”

  “Might work,” Dewi said. “Meanwhile, the only dragons who know anything about our suspicions are standing right here, so Ceridwen meddling isn’t an immediate problem.”

  “Cadir is,” I said. “Let’s go hunting.” I headed for my blade collection, but the ward stood between me and the pile of enchanted steel.