Dragons and Mages: A Limited Edition Anthology

by Pauline Creeden

  They could hear the sounds of small animals going about their business, and a strange chittering.

  But as Daimon landed at the edge of the forest, everything fell silent.

  The twins slid down to their feet and Daimon shifted into his human body.

  "The forest creatures know we're here," he said, and noted that the pristine white trees, though exceedingly tall, had twisted, gnarled trunks. The branches were the same, and the canopy overhead provided shade to the interior.

  Shade.

  "Let’s get out of the sun for a bit," Caro said, marching into the forest undaunted. "Maybe we can find the firewood we need."

  It was a few degrees cooler in the forest—a welcome respite from the heat, but the place was more than just a forest. "What the ...?" Daimon stared, dumbfounded at the items. Junk littered the ground and hung from the branches.

  "How did all this get here?" Elan asked.

  Daimon surveyed the old household items. "I think this came from the destroyed Irod city," he said.

  "Look, a pot. We need this." Caro picked up the dented tin cooking receptacle. "We can cook some of that stuff we ate earlier in it." She pointed at the deadfall. "Elan, grab some wood and kindling so we can have a fire. We just need to find something to put it all in."

  A loud screech pierced the air.

  Caro jumped.

  A group of small, winged monkeys surrounded them, their screams loud and angry. Some were up in the trees, but a bunch had jumped to the ground.

  "Ah, Caro, I think you need to drop the pot, it seems we've stumbled onto territory that's taken," Daimon said.

  More monkeys converged on them.

  Daimon began to back the twins out of the forest, when a clicking sound stopped him.

  He glanced back and froze.

  Three giant black furry spiders, with orange and red stripes ringing their legs, were creeping up to them. "Great, more mutants creepy-creepies."

  Daimon gazed past the monkeys and his pulse sped up at the sight of more ginormous spiders converging on them.

  Go—Celtylight—that way! The energy instructed.

  "Come on!" Daimon grabbed the twins by their arms and ran right through the monkeys. The small winged creatures hissed even louder, and some reached out and clawed at them, while others dove at their heads.

  "Wait, this is the wrong direction,” Caro said.

  Daimon didn’t stop.

  “Where are we going?" Caro asked as she batted the monkeys away. Then she spotted the spiders. "Is that ... are those the same ones we saw yesterday?"

  "I suspect so," Daimon said.

  Elan didn't say a word, just continued to shove at the winged critters.

  Shrieks and screams filled the air, and Daimon dragged his charges in the direction the energy wanted him to go.

  Four-legged squirrels with tiny wings clung to the trees, watching as they ran past, while other weird critters scattered out of the way. What appeared to be a cat, only with really long ears popped up out of a kettle, then ducked back inside, while birds of various shapes and colors flittered or slithered all about.

  Then the monkeys fell silent.

  Daimon glanced back and saw that they'd all stopped chasing them and were now perched in trees watching. "What the heck?"

  The spiders hadn't stopped though, and the clicking sounds they made had his gut clenching.

  They needed to get away, somehow. He turned in a circle, then saw it.

  This is what you want?

  Celtylight—yes.

  Chapter 9

  Celtylight

  The tree was the biggest Daimon had ever laid eyes upon, and he'd seen a lot of trees. In fact, as a dragon shifter who often used to soar the skies in his world with his family, there wasn't much of Tartaria he hadn't seen.

  But never had he come across anything like this. The tree appeared to be alive, or at least filled with lightning.

  Drawn, Daimon stared at the living tree. Streaks of glittering—glowing white energy raced up and down the massive trunk, and then spread out to thousands of branches. From those sprouted others, and at the end of them were large, pure-white leaves shaped like giant snowflakes.

  As Daimon ducked under one such branch, he realized they weren't leaves, but rather sparkling white snowflake-feathers. He went to duck under another, only to be slapped in the face with a handful of the white sparkly stuff. His skin tingled where the feathers touched.

  Daimon didn't stop but kept going as the sounds of clicking grew closer and closer.

  It wasn't until he stopped in front of the lightning tree, that he noticed the inky black discharge oozing from the bark. Celtylight was dying.

  Daimon shivered at the pain he could feel deep inside for the living structure.

  "Uh, are those what I think they are?" Elan asked, looking up.

  Caro and Daimon followed his line of sight.

  Large white cocoons hung from the higher branches—hundreds upon hundreds of white, silk-spun pods.

  "Think the fallen Irod are inside of there?" Elan asked, voice shaking.

  "Could be," Daimon said.

  "They might still be alive," Elan raised a hand as if to touch, but Daimon pulled him back.

  "No, they're not alive in the way you think," he said.

  "How do you know?" Caro asked.

  "I just do. I feel it inside of me." Daimon glanced back at the spiders who were steadily gaining ground. "And I think we're next. We need to get out of here, now!"

  The energy within him pulsed, just about driving him to his knees. Daimon gasped. What do you want?

  Free. Celtylight!

  Free the tree? How? Then he realized the energy inside of him felt the same as what was coming off the lightning tree. You want me to release you into it?

  Celtylight.

  Daimon let the twins go and approached the lightning tree.

  "Daimon, what are you doing?" Caro asked.

  Daimon didn't hear her, the compulsion to touch the light—the surging energy was too strong to resist.

  "Ah, Daimon, they're getting closer," Elan said.

  A beautiful humming filled his mind. It was Celtylight, and he had to somehow release the energy back into it.

  "Daimon!" Caro yelled, as the spiders attacked.

  She blasted them and Elan did the same. But the creatures kept coming.

  Their battle seemed far off and distant, compared to the pull, the draw of energy sucking him in, merging with his mind, mesmerizing him, drawing him in, closer and closer.

  Then a white-hot streak of pain knocked him onto his back.

  "What happened?" Daimon asked.

  "We had to zap you," Caro said, both she and Elan stood over him, ready to magic-blast his butt again. "You need more?"

  "No, I'm good," he said and got to his feet just as one of the spiders darted forward at the twins. Daimon jumped in front of them. Pain bit deep as he was slashed across the thigh.

  Caro blasted the creature back.

  Celtylight—free!

  Daimon shook his head to rid himself of the energy's compulsion, then he stood with the twins—backs to each other as they prepared to fight off the giant arachnids who seemed determined to eat them for lunch.

  Daimon shifted into his half form and blew dragon-fire at the mutant insects. "Don't let them pierce you, I believe they have a paralytic," he said just as one yanked Caro away from them with its pinchers.

  "No!" Daimon grabbed her back, then fried the vile beast to ash. Caro's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped to the ground.

  Elan wasn't faring much better.

  "We have to get out of here," Daimon said, picking Caro up.

  Free! Celtylight! Pain lashed his bones.

  Daimon shoved it away and with gritted teeth, grabbed Elan.

  The agony intensified and a chanting filled his mind. Release—free! Celtylight, Celtylight, Celtylight!

  "No!" Daimon screamed, and with a fierce roar, he let loose a stream of f
ire on the furry evil spiders. With Caro over his shoulder, and pulling Elan along, they ran.

  Sharp blades cut him from every side and his blood started to flow. He kept going, and as soon as he cleared the forest, he shifted all the way into his dragon. He didn't wait for Elan to climb up onto his back, but rather leaped into the air, and with the kids in his talons close to his chest, he flew away.

  The spiders gave chase until Daimon swung around and spewed more dragon-fire all over them. He did it again, and again. Then watched them tumble to the ground. Another group had taken to the air, but they didn't get close enough for him to fry their furry striped butts.

  Daimon turned away and began to fly, looking back every so often. But they were alone.

  "You okay?" he asked Elan.

  The boy didn't respond.

  Daimon flew for a little bit to ensure they weren't being followed, then found a spot to land. He gently settled the kids on the ground. They were covered in cuts and scratches, but at least both were still breathing.

  Yet no matter what he tried, neither would wake.

  He picked them back up and took off again. He headed back home and was over halfway to their cave when Caro's voice entered his head.

  "You know I don't like flying this way."

  Daimon smiled, and making sure they were still alone, landed again, happy to see the girl awake.

  A moment later, Elan's eyes opened. "What happened? Did they get me?"

  "Appears so," Daimon said, eyeing their tattered clothing and the cuts on their skin. "I'm sorry I was distracted." It was his fault they'd been hurt.

  "You're bleeding," Caro said.

  "I'll be fine," Daimon said, though he ached all over, and should have healed by now.

  "All right. Well, let's just not go back to creepland-spider-monkeyville ever again, okay?" Caro said as they climbed up onto his back.

  "I have no problem with that." He still wasn't sure what the energy had wanted, and he hated being compelled into doing something when he had no idea what it involved. But more, he detested spiders. He'd thought the MB's were bad, but those mutant flying fur-butt spiders were even worse.

  They flew in silence, each lost to their own thoughts, Daimon's on Celtylight tree. What did it want?

  "What were you doing at the tree anyway?" Caro asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  "I'm really not sure," Daimon answered. "I was drawn to it."

  "Drawn to it?" Skepticism laced her voice.

  "You mean it was talking to you or something," Elan asked.

  "Or something. I'm not sure what it was." Then, worried about whatever the heck was inside of him, Daimon changed the subject. "How about you two, you okay up there? Not going to pass out on me again, are you?"

  "We're good," Elan said.

  Then Elan asked Daimon about his childhood, and what it was like growing up as a dragon shifter. "Do all dragonkind have big families?"

  "Some do, but not all," Daimon replied, the thought of his family caused his chest to ache.

  "How many in your family?" Elan asked.

  "I have thirty-two brother and sisters, some brother and sister in laws, and a few nieces and nephews," he said.

  "Thirty-two siblings?" Elan said, clearly shocked.

  Daimon noticed that Caro didn't react or say anything. "What about you two? Big family, or small?"

  "It's just the two of us, our parents died when we were born, and our aunt raised us," Elan said.

  Daimon was getting worried, it wasn't like Elan's twin to be so quiet. "Caro, are you all right? Or is my exceedingly smooth flying lulling you to sleep?" He purposefully teased.

  "No, you are not putting me to sleep," she said with an annoyed snort.

  Daimon didn't think she was going to say anything more, but she surprised him.

  "We're a mess, our clothes are destroyed, and we didn't get any wood. We have nothing to cook in and nothing with which to burn for a fire," she responded.

  She was right, but Daimon could hear the anger in her voice. What was more, he caught Caro's fear as well. She'd been scared, and he had a feeling she didn't get scared often.

  He found that he really didn't like the experience much either.

  The air currents carried the scent of death and sulfur to him.

  Daimon wanted to gag at the stench, and figured he knew what was coming.

  As they grew close to another battlefield, it got worse.

  "Ugh, that reeks," Caro said.

  "It seems to be an ongoing war between the Irod and MB's," Elan said as they surveyed the battle up ahead. Another swarm hovered above the Irod's crops, while the butterfly soldiers and Irod battled.

  On the ground there were demons and more than a few human children—Ilyium witches, fighting alongside them. This time most of the witches looked to be around twelve or thirteen years old, except one, who stood a little distance away from the rest on a low rise.

  As Daimon flew closer to get a better look, a group of Irod soldiers broke off from the fight and sent arrows screaming after Daimon.

  "Why won't they just leave us alone," he muttered, swerving to avoid being hit.

  "Because they want my brother and I," Caro said. "You didn't think that just because you rescued us from them that they'd give up getting a hold of us, did you?"

  Well, yeah, he kind of had forgotten that the Demons had kidnapped the pair for a reason, which seemed to be helping them fight their war, obviously, judging by how many Ilyium witches they always had with them.

  He turned to avoid being hit and dropped down to get a better look at the one who'd captured his attention. She appeared closer to his age, possibly even a bit older.

  With long black hair blowing in the wind, she stood holding a spear with a glowing purple stone in the end. As Daimon drew close, she met his gaze.

  She wasn't wearing the same gray uniform as the other Ilyium witches, but rather black leather battle garb.

  She was stunning. He saw her raise the spear, and magic sparked. For a brief moment Daimon though she was going to blast him, but then she turned and sent the magic at the swarm.

  A small section of MB's appeared to be caught up in an electrified web for a moment, then they all dropped to the ground, to lay still.

  "She's powerful," Elan said, just as a group of fighter butterflies rounded on her.

  Daimon wanted to help, but the Irod hadn't given up on knocking him from the sky.

  Arrows continued to whiz toward him.

  As Daimon changed directions, the small handful of demons determined to bring him down mounted their steeds and gave chase.

  "To heck with this," Daimon muttered and wishing the warrior female all the best, rose back into the air and began to fly fast. Within moments he left the demons behind.

  "Did you see her?" Caro asked after he landed in the outer chamber of their cave.

  Daimon shifted into his human body. "Who?" he asked, though he knew who she referred too.

  "That witch, the older one," Caro said with a huff, like he should pay more attention.

  "Yes, I saw her." He couldn't get his mind off her, but Caro didn't need to know that.

  "I want clothing like hers, only not black, make mine brown."

  "What?" Surely he had missed something.

  "Elan and I need new clothes, and it's not like we can go buy any, or have a seamstress make them, now can we?"

  "Oh, you want me to conjure you up clothing," he said, understanding.

  "Yes. And I want mine to be battle gear like hers, only in browns and tans," Caro said.

  Daimon looked at Elan. "And you?"

  "I have simpler tastes. A shirt and pants would be fine, thank you."

  "Right, I'll get on that." It took him a couple tries, some that had Caro gasping in outrage, especially when she found herself wearing a skimpy dress.

  "Daimon!"

  "Sorry, sorry." Could he help it if he'd been imagining the warrior female he'd seen a short while ago wearing something like t
hat?

  "This is better," Caro said with a little smile as she fingered the fine suede battle garb he'd finally managed to adorn her in. Then she looked up at him. "This is a lot of detail for having only seen her for a brief moment.

  Daimon shrugged. He couldn't help it if he had noticed everything about the female witch they'd seen.

  Chapter 10

  Butterfly Goop

  "We have to keep exploring this world," Caro said, so now Daimon was out here again, and for some reason, he found himself heading in the same direction as before. Toward Celtylight.

  As soon as he realized what he was doing, he turned and started to go north instead. A flash of pain bit him, but he shoved it away, and flew below the clouds, not willing to trust anything.

  "What is that?" Elan asked, indicating a formation coming straight toward them.

  "Birds," Daimon replied. At least he hoped they were birds, around here you never knew what something could be until it tried to bite you on the rear.

  As they drew closer, Daimon could see that there were hundreds in the flock.

  Not wanting to run into them, Daimon rose into the air, and they'd just passed over the birds, when he entered a cloud, something he'd really been trying to avoid doing.

  "It's so fresh up here," Caro said, breathing in the air while her hair became plastered to her face.

  "Thought you needed a shower," Daimon teased, then yelped when a bucket of water emptied over his head. “What’d you do that for.”

  “You needed one more than I did,” Caro said, but he could hear the laughter in her voice. “And I figured you needed a lesson not to mess with witches.”

  “Thank you for teaching me this very important bit of information. I will be sure to remember,” Daimon said.