by Ann Gimpel
Konstantin inclined his head. “Generally, that is true. By the grace of our god, we have two new dragon shifters. Johan and Erin. The transition was fraught with peril. Both nearly perished bonding with their dragons.”
“Are we in agreement about inviting the land to our gathering?” Y Ddraigh Goch broke in. I was grateful he’d refocused the discussion before it truly slithered off onto a tangent. And I wasn’t interested in revisiting the agony of my first shift.
Amid a chorus of ayes and yesses, the dragon god told Konstantin. “Do what you have to. Make outrageous promises but bring Earth to us.”
Konstantin nodded and turned to leave. He was halfway to the stairs when a glowing portal formed near him. Power reminiscent of earthquakes and floods and cyclones burst through the gateway. When the clouds of incandescent light cleared, a tall woman with regal bearing stood regarding us. Her hair was made of leaves and twigs and vines. Green, brown, and gold, it wound around her head and fell around her in a cascade nearly to the floor.
Her eyes were gray-blue like the sky on an overcast day or the restless sea. In place of limbs, sheaves of pliable grain grew, and her gnarled, long-nailed hands reminded me of flesh-colored twigs. She wasn’t exactly dressed, but neither was she naked. Diaphanous streamers of pink and gray wound around her body, covering her from chest level to her bare feet. Reddish-brown streaked the streamers, thicker in spots, thinner in others. Was it her blood?
“I am saving you the trouble of hunting for me.”
Her voice, low, rich, and lyrical fed right into my mind. It took me a moment to determine the language was an archaic form of Gaelic. The thick scent of new-mown hay filled the air. Laced into it was the smell of damp earth just after a rainstorm. I couldn’t stop staring. Earth was beautiful, but beyond that something about the apparition glowing before me sang to my soul.
“Thank you for gifting us with your presence.” Konstantin bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
I stole a glance at Erin. Earth had tried to smother her, and she’d have every right not to trust the shimmering form who’d entered the room. Rather than appearing angry, she looked just as astonished as I was.
“We appreciate that ye’re here.” Gwydion turned to face her.
“Aye, I may be here, but ’tisn’t without reservations.”
“Will ye aid us or no?” Ceridwen raised dark brows. Black hair splashed with thick chunks of silver fell about her, and she wore a long, leather skirt covered with a cream-colored linen tunic. I hadn’t realized until that moment how tall she was. Perhaps two meters, she towered over me.
Earth glided nearer Konstantin, who murmured, “My lady. You’re wounded. Healers stand amongst us. Let them aid you.”
The crimson stains I’d noticed deepened, as if his words had opened her hurt places. Rather than the copper smell of blood, the scents of resin and sap thickened around me. Ignoring Konstantin’s offer, she said, “What is required of me? I am depleted and have very little to give.”
Before anyone answered her, she turned reproachful eyes on Oberon and Titania. “I believed you loyal, yet you would strip me in the same way men have. They are ignorant. You cannot claim that excuse.”
I wanted to scream that the men who’d raped and pillaged her bounty had been far from ignorant. They hadn’t given a fuck, so long as they made money.
“Not a good idea,” Katya breathed into my mind and tightened her grip on my hand.
“We are sorry,” Titania said in a clear, ringing voice.
“Aye, if ye will promise to stand and fight, we shall not move the Dreaming,” Oberon said.
“The only reason we considered such a move—”
“Not considered.” Earth’s voice was implacable as she cut Titania off. “Already put into motion.”
“The only reason we considered such a move,” Titania began anew, “is because we sensed ye were on the verge of giving up. Had ye done so, we would have withered along with ye.”
More of the red ichor flowed, pooling around Earth. Where it formed puddles, small green shoots started upward.
“What is required of me?” Earth asked once again.
Konstantin repositioned himself so he faced Earth, or how the land had chosen to present herself. I was certain she wasn’t corporeal in the same way we were. “Two paths have been shown to us,” he began. “In one, we battle the serpents for a long while. They wear us down, and we leave.”
Earth’s regal face crumpled. Red tears welled in her eyes, staining her cheeks as they flowed. “You do not need me to assist unless it would be to hasten my destruction.” She paused, gathering herself, and shook a twiglike finger at Konstantin. “You gave me your word, you would aid me. As you aided Mu.”
My heart hurt for her. She was within an angstrom of giving up. It must have stretched her diminished resources to show herself to us, yet she’d understood we were about to search for her. Perhaps it was simpler for her to be here than to hide herself from a phalanx of gods.
“Hear me out,” Konstantin said. “The second path involves coating this world in ice. Magical ice that will immobilize the serpents. While they are unable to escape, the gods and goddesses who stand before you will kill them one by one.” He made a face. “While they’re about it, they will do away with treacherous dragons who have joined with the serpents.”
“I have tried to leverage ice myself, but it costs me dear. This ice of yours. How long would it last?” Earth sounded hopeful for the first time since she’d arrived in our midst.
“As long as is required to do away with the serpents,” Kon replied.
“Would it be pervasive enough to get rid of the men who have tormented me?”
“Some of them. Your task,” Kon went on, “would be to ensure all the other creatures that live in the sea remain alive. You would also need to hold the various elements of our enchantment together. Oversee things.”
“I could do that.” Earth spoke slowly. “Particularly if men are occupied doing something other than drilling new holes in my hide.”
“And now we must decide.” Gwydion let his very blue eyes rest on one god after another.
“Decide what?” Earth looked confused. She held a fragility that smote me and filled me with guilt. I may not have been the one crafting drilling plans, but I’d held plenty of drills. Been thrilled at discovering promising veins of ore and as eager as the next bastard to drag mineral wealth out of the ground. Once we’d emptied out one shaft, we excavated another.
Y Ddraigh Goch had been silent through the exchange. He walked to where Konstantin stood facing Earth. “I am humbled to meet you, my lady.” The dragon god bowed low. “I am—”
“I know who you are.” Her odd eyes, more green than blue now, scanned the room. “I know who all of you are. You did not answer my question. Decide what?”
“I was getting there,” Y Ddraigh Goch said. “A very old lore book found us. It delineated the two possible avenues Konstantin described. Working alone, dragon shifters lack sufficient magic to manage the second option. We required assistance for such an ambitious undertaking, so I asked the other gods to heed my request. It’s why they are here. The first step—their presence—has been accomplished, but they have yet to declare themselves on one side or another.”
Earth nodded as understanding filled her. “Which shall it be?” she asked in a somewhat stronger voice. “Will you aid me or cast me asunder?”
“Before you answer…” Y Ddraigh Goch returned his attention to the Celts and assorted shifter gods. Bast was on her feet, ears pricked forward. Anubis too. “Know that if you walk away, the serpents will eventually commandeer sufficient magic to create serious problems for every other magic wielder throughout every world. It’s not simply a matter of relocating to a distant borderworld. Eventually, there will be nowhere left to go. Magic is finite. If the serpents appropriate too much for too long, we shall fade into oblivion.”
“This is your fault,” Gwydion leveled his gaze
at the dragon god.
“I take full responsibility, yet even I cannot turn the hands of time backward. Where do we go from here, Master Enchanter?”
“I have seen this in my glass,” Bran said.
“As have I in my cauldron,” Ceridwen muttered. “It could go very badly.”
“It could,” Bran agreed, “yet I doona see where we have a choice.”
“I shall aid you,” Anubis woofed.
“As shall I,” Bast said in a melodic purr.
“My birds will be your allies.” Thoth bobbed his head on his stalk of a neck.
“I would know more about your vision.” Y Ddraigh Goch stared at Bran.
The god of prophecy shook his head. “Some future-seeings never come to pass. Most of them, in fact. If I give voice to what I have seen, I will weight the probability of it happening. I doona wish to do so.”
“Is it the same with you?” the dragon god asked Ceridwen.
She nodded. “Exactly. ’Tis how seer magic works for all of us with that gift.”
Katya leaned into me. Something about the exchange must have verified her own prophecy-seeking because she seemed relieved.
Gwydion pounded his staff against the floor twice. “We shall aid you. We had mostly decided to do so afore we arrived, but we needed to lay eyes on our allies afore making a firm commitment.”
“Thank you. I shall keep my end of our bargain.” Earth’s voice was fading, and her along with it. I blinked at the spot she’d stood, not surprised to find it empty.
“Wait. Come back!” Ceridwen called. I’m sure she tried to sound inviting, but her tone was peremptory enough, I’d have had second thoughts about responding to it. She reminded me of my mother calling me in for dinner—the third time—in a you’d-better-show-up-now-or-else voice.
“She was exhausted,” Konstantin said. “I felt her power ebbing long before she left. Projections aren’t easy. I know where to find her to impart information, but it may not be necessary.”
“I can still feel her presence,” Erin said. “Don’t ask me how, but I know she’s still here and listening to us.”
Arianrhod ran forward. “Where did ye get that?” She pointed at a pendant hanging from Erin’s neck.
Erin edged closer to Kon. “My mate gave it to me.”
“Fine. Where did he get it?” Arianrhod rolled her eyes. Odd eyes were the name of the game here. One of hers was gold, the other silver. Blonde hair streaked with silver had been braided out of the way, but it fell to her knees. She wore dark brown leather trousers, a matching jacket, and carried an ornate bow over one shoulder. A quiver of arrows was lashed across her back.
Konstantin blew out an ash-and-smoke-tinged breath. “Let me see. I believe that piece came from a shipwreck in the early 1700s.” He shook his head. “Nope. Late 1700s. It was in one of the chests that washed ashore. Why?”
Arianrhod stalked forward. “I gifted it to a special mortal.”
“If he was aboard that ship, he died in a hurricane,” Konstantin said.
“Which would explain why I never heard aught from him,” she muttered and held out a hand. “’Tis mine. Give it to me.”
Erin just stared at her. “You’re kidding, right? My husband gave me this. I’m sorry you lost it, but—”
“Give it to me.” Arianrhod shrieked and launched herself at Erin.
Kon stepped between them. “This is my fault. If you wish to be angry at someone, be angry with me. I have many other gems from that ship. You’d be welcome to any of them.”
Ceridwen had materialized out of thin air and hooked a hand beneath Arianrhod’s arm. “’Tis a compliment she chose you, dearie. Not cause to start a war. These are our new allies.” She stressed the word.
“Mmph. I suppose ye’re right.” As quickly as Arianrhod’s temper had flared, it cooled.
Erin, however, was still furious. She’d been ready to go to the mat for her bit of jewelry. Kon must have said something to her privately because she uncurled her fisted hands and said very stiffly, “It is a pleasure to meet the goddess whose necklace I wear.”
Arianrhod hooded her eyes. “Save your words, dragon, until they are not forced. Andraste!”
The goddess of war bolted forward. “Yes, dearie?”
“We have a war to plan.”
“Ye’re singing my song.”
Arianrhod blew out a tight breath. “I ken well enough. Ye and Gwydion, do your thing. The rest of us will figure out where we fit in.”
“First off, we must rustle up Poseidon and the North Wind.” Andraste clacked her teeth together.
“I shall deal with that part of things,” Ceridwen said. “They’re more likely to heed my summons than yours.”
Andraste rolled her green eyes. “As ye will.”
I wanted to talk with Katya, ask her how she thought our fragile alliance would hold up, but there was no way I could do so without someone laughing their socks off at my pathetic telepathy attempt. Or taking offense at my doubts.
“Have something to eat,” Kon invited.
Gwydion strode to the food. “Good call, mate. I think better when my belly is full.”
“Enjoy,” Y Ddraigh Goch said. “I shall return shortly.”
“Where are ye going?” Ceridwen asked. Damn but her voice reminded me of nails on a chalkboard.
“To rustle up Ylon, head of the dinosaur shifters, and apprise him of the outcome of this meeting. I shall let the other dragons know as well.”
“I remember Ylon,” Arawn boomed. “Stellar fellow. Invite him to join us, why don’t you.”
The dragon god bolted up the stairs. Katya nudged me. “Good excuse for him to escape for a while. He’s never done well with anyone ordering him about.”
“None of us do.” I didn’t bother with mind speech. No reason for it since my comment could mean anything. “Shall we grab a bite?”
She nodded. “Who knows when we’ll eat next. I suspect this will unfold quickly. The Celts never were inclined to let grass grow under their feet.”
Gwydion must have heard her because he said, “Why wait? Sooner we get this behind us, the sooner I can return to the lissome lassie waiting in my chamber in Inverlochy Castle.”
Andraste slapped him across the back. “That slut? Ye’re still fucking her?”
“Ye’ve no right to judge. Why, the last mortal ye took to rut with was…”
Katya dragged me toward the food. Rightly so. I didn’t need to hear about the Celts’ bedroom habits. I’d have liked it a whole lot better if they were more ethereal. Less human.
My dragon burst out laughing, and clouds of smoke billowed from my mouth.
“What’s so funny?” Katya handed me a bowl.
I shrugged. “Nothing. Not really.” I didn’t want to get tangled up in telling her what an idealistic fool I was.
Konstantin
Konstantin had been deeply relieved and touched Earth had taken both the time and a big chunk of her failing energy to create a projection and join them. He’d felt how much it cost her but hadn’t wished to embarrass her by pointing out her weakness. Her presence had made it almost impossible for the Celts to withhold their aid.
They might be insular, but only a coldhearted bastard could refuse a maiden in obvious distress. Whether Earth had picked that guise on purpose was anyone’s guess, but he believed she’d chosen and chosen well.
The great room was crowded. All the dragons and dinosaurs had returned on Y Ddraigh Goch’s heels. Kon wasn’t surprised. They’d want to hear how their next steps would unfold firsthand. Even though everyone was in their human form, there wasn’t any extra space.
The kettles were long since empty. He’d debated asking Katya to whip up more, but once all the shifters began pouring in, he decided against it. The fish stew had been a good faith offering to the gods. One that had apparently helped loosen their historical aversion to aiding anyone.
Shifters were an enterprising bunch. More than capable of feeding themselves. Or as
king if any food was available.
“’Tis close in here,” Gwydion said.
“We should move outside,” Anubis woofed. “My shifters are returning from foraging.”
“As are mine, and outside would be an improvement,” Bast said in a purr-laced flurry of words.
The North Wind, who’d appeared as a squat fellow with long, white hair vanished in the shadow of an icy squall that blew through the room. Poseidon, garbed in long blue robes with seaweed woven into his mounds of gray hair, left next. His staff was pink coral seeded with hundreds of pearls. Kon would have liked to have gotten a closer look.
Rather than everyone else crowding into the stairwell, most opted to use magic. The air thickened with the mixed scents of rain-washed beaches, damp greenery, sunbaked sand, and fresh flowers. When it cleared, he, his twin, and their mates were the only ones left in the great room.
“Come on.” He snatched up an empty urn and started up the stairs.
“Do you need to make certain Earth is part of what happens next?” Erin asked.
“The land is close. She has been ever since she appeared to us.” He plonked the urn just inside the kitchen door. Katya placed the other one next to it.
“No more trips down the mineshaft?” Erin tilted her head to one side.
“Not right now.” Konstantin turned so he faced Erin, Katya, and Johan. “Before we join the others, I want to make certain you know we will be in this subterranean world beneath a world for a long while.”
“We understand,” Johan said. “Depending on how many others remain with us, our food stocks may not last.”
“I assumed we would be able to teleport away from here.” Katya frowned.
“Not while the magic is at its zenith. If I understand the casting correctly, it will form an impenetrable barrier that will immobilize anyone trying to move through it. We would end up just as trapped as the serpents.”
“Can we wait this out on a borderworld?” Erin asked.
“The rest of you can, but I must remain here,” Konstantin answered his mate. “Someone must support Earth. She will not take it well if all of us leave.”
