The Scarlet Dragon Saga

by J. P. Rice

  A fireball curved through the dark sky and crashed into my left side. The dense flames ricocheted off my red scales and streaks of fire skittered away in the other direction. By the time I recovered and straightened out, a tiger’s jaw was widening as the beast closed in on me. For some reason, Titania flashed into my mind. I could hear her uttering the words, “It’s my stinger, silly.”

  Her words caused me to react subconsciously. I whipped my tail around, the barbed end whizzing through the air and hitting its mark, lacerating the tiger right below its left eye. The winged beast roared in pain and the chariot listed harshly to the left, throwing Sigyn against the rail and nearly expelling her from the ride.

  The tigers righted the ship, turned on a dime, and rushed at me again. The wounded tiger had blood pouring from the wound, drizzling down and falling into the darkness, eventually staining the snow below. Tired of messing around, I took the fire brewing inside and opened my mouth. As the tigers closed in with slobber falling out of their mouths, I blew a giant stream of fire into the night sky.

  The tigers veered recklessly to the side and Sigyn fell again, grabbing on to the top rail of the chariot as her body was thrown out of the carriage. I thought about throwing the spear or even jabbing the tigers with it, but instead I kept it tucked under my right arm against my body.

  By the time I turned around, Sigyn had made it back into the chariot and the tigers were charging at me, growling and baring their fangs for intimidation. I knew Sigyn could start casting crazy spells at any moment, so I went with a kamikaze attack of sorts. I tucked my wings, pointing the crown of my head at my target and sped like a javelin toward the tigers.

  The animals were used to the predator role and looked at each other in confusion, wondering if they had suddenly become the prey. The tigers grunted and roared, attempting to scare me away. I girded my loins and stuck to the plan. At the last moment, right before I crashed into the tigers head on, I extended my wings and dove. I zipped right under the tigers, my horn gliding past a tiger’s swiping paw.

  I raised my head and shot flames out of my mouth, engulfing the wooden chariot and igniting the ride instantly. Sigyn shrieked in horror and her eyes widened as she decided what to do. She turned to me and sneered before jumping from the chariot. I couldn’t believe she had done that until I looked down and saw the pond beneath her.

  Our fight had taken us right back to the park. Sigyn splashed down, breaking through a thin layer of ice and plummeting into the frosty waters. After witnessing the greatest cannonball of all time, I scanned the area. Tyr was pointing at me and screaming something I couldn’t understand. He drew his hand back and flung it forward. Appearing from his palm was a long, fluorescent blue spear.

  The magical object sailed through the air. I moved to the right to clear the feeble attempt. Suddenly, the spear changed direction and was on target for my body. I dipped to the left, and it followed me again like a heat-seeking missile. I tried to dive at the last moment, but the magical spear ripped through my scales, tore into my flesh, shredded through a few of my organs and exited the other side of my body.

  My heart stopped and I started to drop. Sharp, stabbing agony plagued my body from head to toe. It was indescribable. I’d never felt pain like this before. Not even the lava bath. It felt like death.

  Unrelenting panic hit me as I realized death was knocking on my front door. Dead at the hands of fooking Tyr. Not fair.

  I looked up at the moon. I hadn’t thought much about Luna’s name until now. One of my last acts was shifting into her skin.

  As I envisioned my trip to the afterworld, a lightning bolt ran down from the sky, headed straight for me. I didn’t have the time or ability to move as the bolt powered into the spear against my body, sending a crippling charge around my insides.

  At first, a tremendous pain took over, then I felt my insides repairing themselves and the profuse bleeding slowed tremendously. Then it hit me. I couldn’t lose in battle because I held the spear. It was like a magical surgery going on inside me.

  Apparently, holding the spear meant that I couldn’t die either as my strength returned, stoking the fire inside. The pain had subsided, but I still felt elderly and wondered how much more magic I could use before I collapsed from old age. I could have flown away and reserved energy, but I wanted revenge on the man who’d fooked me over.

  I tucked my wings, turned back around, and rocketed toward the earth. Tyr spun around, raised his head, and threw off the mask. He drew his hand back again, but before he could unleash another deadly spear, I closed in and opened my mouth.

  My soul pushed the flames through my body, rushing up my throat, coasting over my tongue and out of my mouth. Tyr’s vanity protection prevented him from being able to make a quick move and the fire expanded, completely engulfing his head and diving into his armor.

  He yelped like a wounded animal. I smirked and thought about how proud the Morrigan would be of me for that act of vengeance. As I turned and rose into the air, I looked down and saw Tyr’s henchmen rushing in to get him out of the smoking armor. He was being cooked inside the metal, which was what he deserved for trying to kill me. His feral screaming was music to my ears. I’d survived a similar situation. It was the chauvinistic tough guy’s turn.

  My body went numb and I wondered if my wings had given out. I still heard the swooshing sounds, but I couldn’t feel myself causing the motion. My back had lost all feeling and I had to trust that my wings would get me out of there. As I sailed through the frosty night sky, I thought about where I could go.

  Tyr would send his henchmen straight to my house, so that option was out. Still in dragon form, I felt myself aging drastically and my thoughts jumbled together. I needed to get to Pleasure Island so I could drink out of Goibniu’s special barrel. But there wasn’t a chance in hell I would make it by flying.

  I wasn’t exactly sure where I was and peeked down at a bunch of farms in a rural area of Pittsburgh. Without warning, the whooshing sounds stopped, along with my heartbeat. I tried to get my wings to work, but they weren’t having it. My exhausted and heavy dragon body fell toward the earth like a skydiver with a faulty parachute.

  My wings took mercy on me and extended, taking on wind resistance to slow the descent. It had the same effect as a parachute that had been pulled late. It slowed me down just a touch before I crashed to mother earth and my knees buckled, causing me to fall face first into the snowy muck.

  The ground, although covered in a thin layer of snow, was muddy. I pulled my face up and got to my knees. My body shrank and my scarlet scales disappeared from my arms and body. My dragon arms took on human flesh and my fingers developed again. I shivered, my naked body subjected to the elements.

  I peered around the area and realized I’d landed in the yard of a farmhouse. A baritone growl was all I needed to jump to my feet. My shoulders sagged due to my lack of strength and I spun around, trying to locate the beast.

  With my night vision fired up, I saw the adumbration of a huge hell hound baring his or her fangs. Just my luck. I switched my visual dimension back to normal. Behind the hellhound stood a seraphic figure, bright as polished ivory. I blinked several times and still couldn’t believe I was staring at an andro-Sphinx.

  Her angelic face almost made me forget that she was a murderous creature. The hound crept around behind me as the sphinx got closer. I couldn’t win this fight. I had no strength left. Of all the luck, how did I end up on a farm like this?

  A door slammed open on the house about thirty yards away and someone screamed, “What the hell’s going on out here?”

  The Sphinx turned and shouted over her shoulder. “We have an intruder, Mike.”

  A blurry figure ran down the steps of the porch and jogged over to us. As he neared, I realized who it was and breathed in relief. I said, “Mike. I have the spear. Call off your dogs.” I picked up the muddy spear and held it up for him to inspect.

  He squinted and leaned forward, then a look of recognition w
ashed over his face. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you being followed?” he asked, spinning around in circles.

  “No. Things got a little out of hand. I flew away from the deal and crashed down here. I’m aging drastically and need to get to Goibniu’s island.”

  Mike looked up and down my naked body. Not in a perverted way, more in shock that I appeared fifty years older than when we had seen each other earlier today. “Yeah, you look like you’re about seventy right now. Relax for a second and we’ll help you out.”

  A young lady with red hair walked over to us, and I thought I was having a lava bath flashback. The pregnant female was a spitting image of my daughter. My dead daughter.

  Mike turned and said to her, “Go inside and get some clothes for her. Please.”

  The woman turned and went back to the house as I collapsed to the ground again, dropping the spear beside me. I rolled onto my side and then my back, peering up at a wizard, a sphinx and a hellhound. Due to my untrusting nature, I reached over and clutched the spear.

  Mike asked, “Where is this island located?”

  I spoke in a raspy voice, “I need to get to the Atlantic Ocean. I don’t have an exact location. I find it by feel.”

  Mike gazed up at the moon, his eyes searching for an answer. “Then it will be impossible for me to help you out.”

  “I can take her,” the Sphinx announced.

  Mike turned to her. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. If she can guide me, I’ll get her there. It’ll be good for me to stretch out the wings, anyway,” she said, beating her angelic wings a few times to reinforce her point.

  Mike said, “I’ll hold the spear for you.”

  I’d almost forgotten about the object I was squeezing with my left hand. With great reluctance, I let him pry the spear from me.

  “So I can release this girl now, right?” he asked, and I wondered what he was talking about.

  What girl? Then it hit me. I’d nearly forgotten about Tyr’s girlfriend. “Yeah. Let her loose. We have the spear now. Just don’t lose that or I’ll kill you. I’ll be back to get it after I regain my youth.” I wasn’t really in a position to be throwing around threats, but this object was that important.

  I faded in and out of consciousness for about a half hour as a series of unrelated images streamed through my head. Mike and his girlfriend put me into a carrying harness and attached it to the Sphinx. I didn’t want the spear to leave my hands, but I trusted Mike for some reason. Plus, the rumors of my actions would make the rounds.

  The next thing I knew, we lifted off the earth and flew directly at the moon. The corners of my mouth curled up as I realized I’d done good. I’d stopped Arawn and Maeve from unleashing a supernatural onslaught on the world.

  I’d also stopped Loki from getting whatever he needed to kill Odin. Knowing Loki, he’d likely be an oppressive leader and enslave the citizens of Asgard, so my actions benefitted people in another world too. Pride swelled through my exhausted body in the same way it had when I’d taken the spear from the Nazis. Utter destruction of the earth averted.

  Would the Celtic Gods induct me into the pantheon? I didn’t have a clue, but my father was right. I didn’t need their approval. I’d worried for too long about whether they cared about me. When I thought about most of their shortcomings, including my mother’s, I realized they had no right to judge me.

  But inexplicably, it still burned at me. I wanted to be a member of the pantheon and stand on equal footing with them. Why couldn’t I shake that debilitating feeling?

  Chapter 23

  Carrying Lugh’s Spear in my right hand, I smashed the soft snow into the ground as I walked toward my reception at Clara Spiritus, the home of the Celtic Gods. A sweet floral scent tickled my nose. In the valley between two ice-capped mountains, something caught my attention in the distance. My eyes wouldn’t leave the glowing object as my feet kept moving toward my destination.

  As I neared the entrance to the Triskele Room in the mountain, the vision came into sharp focus. The red petals glowed in the afternoon sunlight, blending into a vibrant green stem that continued downward until it disappeared in the snow. The winter rose. The rose from my dream. I still hadn’t deciphered its meaning.

  I shook it off just as Flidais and Danu came out of the ceremony. I nodded and waved, but the two Goddesses turned their noses up at me. The bitches walked right by, whispering to each other. Whatever.

  I’d made it to Goibniu’s and drank his magical elixir again. His age-defying drink had brought me back to my normal mid-thirties appearance. After drinking the magical juice, I’d found that using magic didn’t age me much or cause physical discomfort. It was the near-death experiences that had accelerated my aging. Using magic after severe injuries seemed to cause the biggest problems. I still didn’t have an exact understanding though.

  Thinking about the past few weeks, I realized I hadn’t made the vampire-werewolf situation any better. If anything, I’d probably made it worse. I still had time to bring peace to the warring factions.

  In typical fashion, more people wanted me dead since I’d returned to Pittsburgh. Arawn and Maeve had escaped the deal with the briefcase, but they had lost the spear. That meant they could send some of their genetically enhanced creatures after me.

  Loki and Tyr hadn’t received the item they needed to kill Odin, so they wanted me dead too. Tyr had survived, but I’d scarred him terribly. A permanent reminder not to mess with me. Loki had an army at his disposal, which meant it was imperative to track down Thor and bring him to my side. If I could convince Thor to go back to Asgard, it would get Loki off my back.

  Although it seemed bleak, I hadn’t given up on my husband. Until I received confirmation of his death, I would never give up hope. I planned to raise the baby dragons in his honor.

  And I’d promised Darabond and myself that I would retrieve our gold locket from the Magic Council. I’d almost lost track of another faction that wanted me dead. Escaping the Lair of Justice would only enrage Merlin and the Bounty Huntress. So I had three powerful entities on my heels. I still had Zeus’s offer in hand, which was nice because my dragons had a long way to go before they could protect me.

  Speaking of which, I wasn’t sure if I would accept an invitation to join the pantheon right now. If I accepted, the Gods would want me to move to Clara Spiritus and begin my training. I didn’t know if I could give up on my dragons. They were only eggs right now, and I wasn’t positive they would hatch, but I wanted to see it through.

  As the dreadful winter in Pittsburgh dragged on, my mind kept going back to the Horsemen spotting. War and famine. It almost felt like the war had already started, and famine usually followed. I had to protect my city.

  Flidais and Danu walked by again, whispering into their hands and ignoring me. Shaking my head, I turned to the right and entered the party. Immediately, I looked for signs of an induction ceremony. About thirty Gods were in attendance, and as I scanned the room again, I saw another twenty people mixed in with the deities. Cerridwen was in the back, stirring the contents of an obsidian cauldron. It smelled like beef stew with a heavy dose of rosemary. And, of course, Mike Merlino was here.

  A tall man with wild blond curls peeking out from under a horned battle helm walked up to me. Dressed in gold and burgundy war attire, Lugh smiled and said, “I never thought I’d see that again.”

  “I believe it belongs to you.” I turned and extended the spear, holding it parallel to the ground.

  Lugh knelt, removed his helmet and extended two open hands above his head. I gently placed the spear in his hands and felt a spark of electricity as the object finally returned to its master. A wave of lightning ran down the spear, then transferred to Lugh’s glowing body, leaving an ivory aura surrounding him.

  He stood up, tall and proud, holding up the spear so everyone could see. A round of applause broke out. I didn’t know if they were cheering for him or me. No offense, but Lugh had lost the spear. He deserved no
praise. The longer the cheering went on, the more I realized nobody was even looking at me except for the Morrigan, who shrugged her shoulders.

  My hopes of a welcoming ceremony fell by the wayside. I had been foolish to get excited. Delusional visions of grandeur. This fickle bunch didn’t deserve me. My father was right about them.

  As I peered around the room, it was apparent I didn’t fit in with this crew. Everyone was socializing with each other, and it left me alone near the entrance. My mother strutted around like a peacock, showing off her sparkling purple dress. Everyone else knew her as the Goddess of Fire, but I knew her as the Ice Queen. Frigid. I couldn’t think of a more apt name.

  Even that little bitch Alayna was here, showing off her new wings, acting as if she hadn’t starved the creatures of Sleepy Willow for hundreds of years.

  Mike approached Frigid, and she threw her arms around the young man and pulled him in for a loving hug. Rage built inside me. She’d never hugged me. Never even shown the slightest bit of affection toward me. No, she had shunned me since birth. My own mother. But for the Pony Boy, she had no problem falling all over him in front of the Gods. This was supposed to be my shining moment, dammit.

  My event. My apotheosis. My addition to the pantheon. However, it had turned into another episode of embarrassment in my life. If I hadn’t brought the spear, the Gods wouldn’t have invited me in the first place.

  I tried to calm myself, but the dark blood took over, edging me toward malicious behavior. Fighting against it, I backed outside into the chill, hoping it would take care of the problem. Instead, the flames were fanned, and I saw the world through a stained pink lens. Five centuries of pent up anger toward my mother wouldn’t be denied. Through a roseate haze, my body started moving, but it wasn’t under my control.

  About thirty seconds passed and the rage fit wore off, leaving a roomful of screaming Gods in front of me. The Dagda was standing right next to me, staring up at me with angry intensity beaming from his widened eyes. A group of people were helping someone to their feet. The sparkly purple dress.