Dragon’s Heir: Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  I wasted a few moments battling irritation no one had bothered to tell Rowan or me about what was clearly a cross-pantheon meeting, but I let it go. We were already here, so perhaps our attendance was assumed.

  Things would probably proceed quickly once all the players were assembled. Rowan and I had talked about a quick trip to Midgard. She wasn’t as worried about the witches now the Celts were back in Inverlochy and helping with the garden, but the bulk of the witches had remained beneath Ben Nevis. So long as they remained within the Celts’ ancient stronghold, they’d be safe enough, but they were also cut off from everything.

  Rowan had been their eyes and ears. Their go-between to access the world beyond the caves. And she’d been gone for the better part of a month. A very long time as splintered as Midgard was.

  “Bjorn?” Gwydion’s tone was brisk. I guessed he’d been trying to get my attention for a while.

  “Aye. Sorry. I was thinking.”

  “We heard rumors of an army of dead living on the outer borderworlds,” Arawn said.

  “We saw one of them,” I confirmed. “A Draugar known to Hel. He claimed all the Draugars had escaped and were scattered through the outer borderworlds and the few worlds on the good side of the barrier. Once they answered to Cadir and Loki, but now they’re probably piloted by the scoundrels and bastards consigned to the outer borderworlds.”

  “I’m certain they werena sorry to see Loki and Cadir depart,” Gwydion muttered.

  “’Tis a prime spot for me to locate those who escaped from behind my Ninth Gate,” Arawn said.

  “Hel agrees with you,” I told him followed by, “Good to see you both. I’m going to run Rowan down, and she and I will teleport to Midgard.”

  “Ye’ll be back in time for the meeting?” Gwydion arched a fair brow.

  “That’s my plan. Ro’s been wanting to show off our son to the witches, and it will give us an opportunity to ensure they’re all right.”

  “The ones in Inverlochy are,” Gwydion informed me. “They’ve been harvesting these past few days. We shall return them, crops and all, to Ben Nevis verra soon.”

  Relief swept through me. “Rowan will be thrilled. This crop project was her baby, and it will mean the witches have a few months of provisions.”

  “Mayhap by the time planting season comes next year, Midgard will be a safe place to walk beneath open skies,” Arawn said.

  “We all hope for that.” Gwydion’s usual smirk was absent.

  After another round of handshaking, I loped toward our room. The door stood open, so I kept right on going to the pool. That and the kitchen were the likeliest options, and Ro would have passed me in the corridor if they’d gone to get a snack. The archway came into sight. I ducked into the calm quiet of the cave holding what was really a small lake. The place carried a sense of peace, of timelessness, that sank into my soul.

  Rowan and Geir were swimming, splashing water at each other and laughing uproariously. Neither knew I was here, and I grabbed a moment to watch my love and our child. Tenderness seasoned with love filled me. I’d never imagined I could contain such joy. But with it came worry. We faced unparalleled evil. I was confident Rowan and I could deal with most any threat, but we had Geir to watch over.

  If I had my way, I’d leave him here and let the Fire Mountain dragons watch over him. It wasn’t perfect, but at least it would keep him out of direct sight of our enemy. Whoever that happened to be. I ground my teeth. Still so much we didn’t know. Including exactly who held a grudge against Odin.

  I’d had time to think about things, and every door I kicked open led to Odin. Midgard had been convenient, but Yggdrasil’s rot suggested the Nine Worlds were the real target. I’d floundered about trying to come up with a way to ask Odin for a list of who he’d pissed off, but I’d finally given up. For one thing, the list had to be long. For another, he probably couldn’t remember everyone he’d dealt ill with. As I’ve said, he’s cunning and devious, and his sense of humor has never been a good match for the dirty deeds he’s played on others. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nothing like Loki. Beneath Odin’s practical jokes and coarse ways, he has a generous heart.

  “Da!” was followed by a shrill trumpet.

  I’d been discovered, so I moved deeper into the room and crouched by the edge of the pool. Geir splashed water all over me.

  Rowan swam close. Her red hair floated in the water like an exotic breed of anemone. “Probably time for us to get out,” she said with a warm smile.

  “I ran into Gwydion and Arawn,” I told her. “Apparently, there’s some big powwow tomorrow.”

  “I caught wind of something last night,” she told me.

  “How come you didn’t say anything?”

  She bent to kiss me and walked to where she’d left the robe she’d mostly lived in since Geir’s birth. Her body was back to normal, but her breasts were fuller and her stomach slightly rounded. Those changes would probably be permanent, and they added a sensual allure to her tall figure.

  “Probably because I didn’t want our vacation to end,” she replied. “Living in fairyland has been delightful. Someone else cooks. I don’t have to do anything except play with Geir. And you.” She grinned naughtily, and I recalled our surreptitious lovemaking the previous night once I’d spelled Geir to a slightly deeper sleep.

  My son was still splashing. He sent waves rolling from one end of the lake to the other with magic that sluiced from his outstretched talons. They’d been whitish when he was first born, but they were shading to the ruby color I associated with adult dragons.

  I stood and walked to Rowan. “Feel like a quick trip to Midgard?”

  She smiled. “I’d love one. I’ve felt incredibly guilty about the witches.”

  “Gwydion assures me the Inverlochy batch are fine. Crops are in, and the Celts are ready to move everyone back beneath Ben Nevis.”

  Her smile broadened. “I am so glad the garden experiment is over. And that it paid off.”

  I lowered my voice. “Has Ceridwen been bothering you lately?”

  “No. That went away shortly after I had Nidhogg dispose of the jewelry. The more I’ve turned it over, the more I’m certain that little episode where the ring and necklace suckered me into rescuing them from the mineshaft was orchestrated by Mother. She’s incredibly powerful, and us sharing blood makes it easier for her to manipulate me.”

  “Good. One less problem.” I nodded briskly.

  We had so many facing us, it barely made a dent, but I’d take help from any quarter. I turned to Geir and stretched my hands toward him. Magic floated from me and formed a circle around him. He loved it when I surrounded him with power.

  Steam billowed from him as I coaxed him from the water. As soon as his hind legs were firmly planted on the shore, he shook like a mad thing, splattering me even though I stood a good meter away.

  “We’re going on an adventure,” I told my son.

  “Where?”

  “To visit my family,” Rowan told him. “They’ll be excited to meet you.”

  Geir’s eyes shaded from copper to silver to green as they spun. Everyone who’d met him had petted and coddled him to the point I was amazed he wasn’t more of a handful than he was.

  “You must promise to behave and do as we instruct you,” Rowan admonished him. “I have a cat who loves me. You mustn’t tease him.”

  Geir stood straighter. “Cats are to eat.”

  “Not this one,” Rowan went on. “He loves me, and he will be very happy to see me. If you allow it, he will love you too.”

  Geir trundled to where we stood, his brow scrunched in thought. “Who else is there?”

  “My family. Men and women who took me in and treated me well after I ran away from Bad Grandma.”

  “Oooh.” A stream of ash puffed from his jaws. “Do they have magic?”

  “They’re witches,” Bjorn told him. “They hold different magic, more earth-based and less powerful than yours.”

  “Everyone’
s magic is weaker than mine.”

  It was an innocent statement, and someday it might be true, but I couldn’t let it slide. I bent so our eyes were level. “What have we talked about?”

  “Magic isn’t everything.” He sounded petulant. “But it should be. What else is there?”

  I felt about a million years old when I said, “Power is a gift and a responsibility. If it isn’t tempered with wisdom and compassion, it can turn into a scourge. Remember the story of your bad great-grandpa?”

  He nodded solemnly. “Loki.”

  “Aw geez,” Rowan muttered. “He’s going to think everyone he’s related to is a monster.”

  “Well”—I glanced her way—“some of them are. We don’t do Geir any favors if we whitewash the truth.”

  Magic turned the air around Geir warm with color. Scales clanked to the floor in what must have been his dozenth molt. “I will be good,” he told Rowan and me. Spreading his wings, he flew around the cavern experimenting with dips and rolls.

  “He flies a lot better than he used to,” Rowan commented.

  “He does everything better, and it’s only going to continue, but eventually we’ll run out of time.”

  She didn’t ask what I meant. She understood. There’d come a season to stand and fight. Geir would be there, and whatever skills he’d mastered would have to be enough.

  “I need to stop by our room and get my clothes,” Rowan told me.

  I motioned to Geir, and we followed her out of the cavern. This wouldn’t be a long trip, and I wasn’t certain when we’d get back to Midgard after today. As soon as Rowan was ready, we walked to the entrance to the caves. A dragon met us there and handed me back the blades I’d had to relinquish to enter. It felt like eons had passed since Geir’s birth, but it hadn’t been long at all.

  Not really. A little less than a month in “real” time.

  I built a teleport spell, borrowing from my dragon half so we could use the comfy channels that supplied both light and air.

  Geir was so excited he was bouncing up and down when I snared him with my magic, and the cracked red earth of Fire Mountain faded, replaced by a teleport channel. I decided to capitalize on this as a learning experience, so I sketched out how I’d built my spell.

  And then I made Geir repeat the steps until he knew them perfectly. He might need to make a run for Fire Mountain, and I’d just ensured he knew how.

  Rowan stood next to me, an arm around my waist. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  “Probably, but I never tire of hearing it.”

  She laughed, soft and low. “I love you, Bjorn. You’ve made me a very happy woman.”

  “The feeling is mutual, darling.”

  Geir was muttering the steps I’d just taught him. I listened in to make sure he wasn’t skipping any. His next lessons would be in how to fight. Nidhogg, Dewi, Quade, and Zelli had been nagging about that. Once we returned, I’d have to agree to let them drag him to their practice arena—or wherever they honed fighting skills—and kindle the lethal side of his dragon nature.

  Would he be old enough? Would all my words about tempering magic with wisdom stick with him? Wielding power could be heady. I’d struggled against its pull when I was very young. At the time, I hadn’t understood its magnetism or why its allure was nearly my undoing more than once.

  Yeah. Shame on Hel and Nidhogg. If my true parents had been more forthcoming… I stopped myself. What then? Being raised by mortals had probably been good for me because it provided balance. Had I known what I was, I may well have become a terror. Not as bad as Loki, but not too far behind.

  “It will be all right,” Rowan spoke softly, right against my ear. “It has to be.”

  I didn’t chide her for sharing my thoughts. We were mates; I had nothing to hide. “I hope so,” I said, and gripped one of her hands. Our respite in Midgard would be brief, and I was determined to make the most of it.

  Chapter Thirteen, Rowan

  A lot of things worried me, but I put up a good front for my son and Bjorn. I might long for a different set of circumstances, but I’d play the hand I’d been dealt. Just as I’d done through the long years of my life. I’d hedged when Bjorn asked about Mother. I was able to mute her, block her out, but she was still clawing at the edges of my warding.

  Sap that I am, I was actually concerned about her. She kept saying someone was killing her, and she did sound weaker, but it might be an act. She was more than capable of that type of manipulation. Cadir loomed large in my thoughts too, though. There’d been a way to kill him, which meant there was probably some secret way to kill any immortal.

  Would carving out her heart and feeding it to Fire Mountain do the trick?

  I wanted to pay her a visit for two reasons. The first would be to tell her to shape up and behave so the dragons didn’t have to waste magic on her. But my second reason was to reassure myself she was all right, and her bellyaching was just one more scheme.

  “You’re quiet,” Bjorn observed. He and Geir had been chatting up a storm as Bjorn taught him the basics of teleporting via the dragons’ special method.

  “I’m enjoying listening to the two of you.”

  “Almost there,” Geir announced.

  I checked the markers flashing by. Written in runes not unlike the ones scribed in Bifrost’s walls, they confirmed my son’s assessment. “We’re lucky,” I told him.

  “Why?” Scales clanked when he twisted his head to regard me. His baby scales had been softer, and quiet. The newer batches were indistinguishable from those of an adult dragon.

  “Before I knew I possessed dragon magic,” I told him, “I journeyed to other worlds in a black place. One with no light and no air. The no light part wasn’t a problem, but not having air was uncomfortable. Never really got used to it.”

  He patted the undulating floor we stood upon with a hindfoot. “Only for dragons.” Pride threaded through his words.

  “Aye,” Bjorn said. “Only for dragons.”

  “When can I see you?” Geir glanced from Bjorn to me.

  “You’re looking right at us,” I joked. I’d understood what he meant.

  “Your dragons,” he added with a touch of impatience.

  Bjorn exchanged a what-do-we-do-now look with me, and I quested about for the simplest answer. Geir might be growing fast, but he was still a baby. “Our dragons live within.” I tapped my breastbone. “Neither your father nor I knew we had dragon blood until we were long past grown up.”

  “Find them,” Geir persisted.

  “Why is it important?” Bjorn asked.

  “So we can fly together.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched, and I smiled. Yes, my son was still very young. He loved to fly, and, in his dragon mind, families flew together. I rested a hand on his shoulder. “It would be lovely. Your father and I will work on it, but not right now.”

  I felt Bjorn feed a slight course correction into our travel spell. Light blossomed around us, and we floated downward, not far from the creek that ran near the Ben Nevis stronghold. Geir spread his wings, his intent crystal clear. Him flying off to go exploring hadn’t been a problem on Fire Mountain because he’d never been outside.

  I got my feet under me and opened my mouth to order him back.

  “Nay,” Bjorn said. “He’s not hurting anything. We can offer him a few moments to stretch his wings. Under Fire Mountain, he never flew more than the length of the main corridor, and it only worked because his wings were small. I doubt he’d be able to finesse that now.”

  “But it might not be safe, and don’t give me the dragons-are-warriors song and dance.”

  Andraste bounded our way, blonde hair tightly braided and a bow slung across her back along with a lethal-looking broadsword. Garbed in her customary battle leathers, she cut an imposing figure. “Thought I felt dragons,” she bellowed and shaded her eyes with a hand. “Och, he’s a beauty. How long did he stay human?”

  “Only until he was born,” I tol
d her, followed by, “What are you doing here?”

  “Delivering the witches and the garden’s bounty.” She put two fingers into her mouth and whistled.

  Geir wheeled and flew right toward her.

  “How’d you do that?” I asked.

  “Youngsters all love Auntie Andraste,” she told me with a warmer smile than I’d ever seen on her austere face. She held out her arms. Geir barreled into them, driving both of them to the ground where they rolled about in the dust mock fighting.

  Geir chirped and blew steam and bugled. Andraste pivoted from beneath his bulk and flowed to her feet. “He will be a staunch warrior,” she pronounced. “He has the right attitude.”

  She slapped me across the back. “I had my doubts about you, but ye’ve risen to the challenge. Good work.”

  I supposed it was as close as she ever came to a compliment. “Uh, thanks. I think.”

  “Where are you off to now?” Bjorn asked her.

  “Why Fire Mountain. Where else? We have the battle of an epoch to plan. I must be part of it.”

  “You might already know, but the Morrigan escaped,” I told her.

  A blood-chilling howl burst from Adraste followed by, “Nooooooo. That fucking bitch. What were the dragons thinking to let her go?”

  “Fucking bitch,” Geir chirped. “Fucking bitch.”

  It wasn’t funny, but I wanted to laugh. Instead, I shook a finger in his face. “Bad words. Pick better ones.”

  “Oops. Sorry,” Andraste muttered. “Havena been around children in a verra long time. So, the Battle Crow is loose, eh? Doesna surprise me. She’s drawn to war in the same way as I am, and she wouldna want to miss this one.”

  “You exiled her once,” Bjorn spoke up. “Are the Celts still of one mind about her?”

  Andraste shrugged her broad shoulders. Something about the gesture iced my blood, and her words clinched my impression. “Och, mayhap her punishment has lasted long enough. She is a Celt, and none of us are perfect. Well, time for me to be off. See you soon, I’m sure.”

  Mint, vanilla, and amber burned my nostrils as she summoned a journey spell. I wanted to shake her, remind her the Morrigan hadn’t changed. “Wait!” I yelled.