by T. A. White
Dewdrop stepped back, scrubbing at his face as reddened eyes peered up at her. "Ilith, what's wrong? Where have you guys been?"
His attention shot past her to her mate. Shock filled his expression. "Is that Ryu? What happened to him?"
He would have dashed toward the fallen dragon if a warm voice hadn't interrupted. "Little grub, let your dragon settle. Pelting her with questions when she lacks the capacity for speech won't get you answers any faster."
Ilith peered around Dewdrop and snorted at the old woman who stood at the back of the crowd. Her back was slightly hunched and she moved slowly. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened when she noticed Ilith's attention. She bowed her head, the gesture conveying a deep respect without seeming subservient. "It has been an eternity, lady dragon."
The old woman's scent wafted Ilith's way bringing with it the feeling of patience and serenity. It reminded Ilith of deep mountain lakes, refreshing and cool after a hard day's flight. The type that pooled and burbled with peace no matter the turmoil in the world around them.
"I'm afraid my appearance has changed slightly over the years," the old lady said with the barest trace of a smile.
Ilith snorted in amusement. The woman was still the same as ever—cocky and convinced of her indestructibleness among beings not known for their patient or merciful natures.
Ilith became aware of Dewdrop, running his hand down the outside of her shoulder, over and over again, as if he was petting her. Night had plopped down on her paw, sprawling over her deadly claws as if they couldn't easily rip him in half.
"Come, give way to your other half. Your friends are worried and aren't likely to relax with you so on edge," the woman said, beckoning with her chin as she ordered a dragon about like she was a tame house pet.
The woman hobbled the way she'd come, her people parting before her without protest.
The warmth in her welcome hadn't escaped Ilith or the fact neither Dewdrop or Night had demanded she change place with Tate. They'd greeted her as fervently as she imagined they would have her other half.
She'd always imagined these two as Tate's, accepting Ilith only because she was a package deal because of her soul bond with their friend.
Perhaps she had underestimated them. She tended to think those not dragon—with the exception of Tate—as lesser and incapable of establishing the type of connection her kind took for granted. It was something to ponder when she ceded their body to the Savior.
Ilith reached for Tate and faltered when the change didn't immediately start. Worry flooded her and she tried again, straining for that spot in the in-between that allowed her to fold back and Tate to take shape.
Nothing happened. She was still dragon, Tate a silent presence inside.
She made a sound of distress.
She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. She'd never been unable to initiate a switch. As dragon, it was unthinkable.
Dewdrop took a step toward her, his expression expectant. As the minutes piled up and Tate didn't take shape, his face grew concerned.
Ilith found herself not wanting to disappoint the small two-legger. He was a special entity to Tate.
Ilith threw herself into the change, waiting for the tingling fire to race through her. She bounced off an invisible wall. She could see where she needed to go, but found herself unable to bridge the gap.
A frustrated hiss escaped her. Those who lingered drew back with the exception of Tate's two bond mates. No one wanted to be close to an upset dragon.
"What's wrong?" Dewdrop asked.
Ilith warbled, shifting unhappily.
She dug her claws into the hard dirt, uneasy. This had never happened before. Not in the before times or since she had made that first transition with Tate.
It left her feeling exposed, like she was missing an important limb. Dragons were apex predators. They weren't vulnerable. Yet, somehow, she was.
"Are you hurt? Injured?" Dewdrop asked, drifting closer, as if there wasn't an upset dragon in front of him. He scanned her, his face pinched with worry.
Ilith was glad now, that she had taken the time to scrub the blood of her prey off her scales. She wouldn't have wanted to listen to the emotional outburst such a sight would have caused.
Mustn't upset the small, defenseless two-leggers.
Well, no more than necessary, that was.
Part of her chaffed at the restrictions such thinking placed on her. She was a creature of the moment, pursuing its transient pleasures with little concern for the consequences. That's why she and the other made such a good team.
Ilith acted. Tate planned.
"Little grub, what's the hold up?" the man Ilith had decided was the leader asked.
Her head lifted and she regarded him with a raptor's intensity. She wasn't sure she liked the way he spoke and knew Tate had been unhappy with him during their last encounter.
Briefly, she considered the merits of ending his existence here and now. It might please her other. On the other hand, Tate hadn't ended him when she had the chance. She could have a use for the pest that Ilith wasn't seeing. In which case, she wouldn't be happy when she rose to ascendancy to find him dead.
Ilith made a sound in the back of her throat. Such complicated choices.
Tate will be unhappy if you eat him, Night said, lifting a paw and licking it.
She curled her lip to expose a fang before grumbling to herself. She preferred things simple. Clear enemies she could kill.
"I think something is wrong," Dewdrop was saying.
She blew a breath at him, irritated he felt the need to state the obvious. He pushed her snout away. Outrage tempted her to show him who the real predator was. But all that was forgotten when he reached up and scratched along the edge of her jaw.
Ooh, that felt good. Ilith's eyes slid half-closed.
He could keep his hand if this was what he did with it.
She tilted her head just the smallest bit so he could reach a particularly good spot, rumbling as a deep purr slipped out of her.
The conversation around them ground to a halt and Ilith opened her eyes to find herself the focus of all those present.
Night's tail twitched as he watched her, his expression knowing. He opened his mouth on a silent laugh, careful not to expose his teeth.
Ilith huffed at him before rolling to her feet as the conversation between Dewdrop and the pest resumed.
"We need to question Tate to get to the bottom of this," the pest was saying in a crisp voice. "We can't do that if she stays a dragon."
Dewdrop waved off his concerns and tilted his head up to Ilith. "Can you change?"
She stared down at him, frustration moving through her. Never before had the barrier of conversation been so annoying. Normally she was content to let the two-leggers chatter around her. Now, however, she needed their help.
It was an obstacle.
With a small growl, she took one claw and dragged it through the dirt. This was such an inefficient way to communicate.
No one spoke as they watched with wide eyes.
"Have you ever heard of a dragon being able to write?" a man whispered to his neighbor.
Silly humans. Of course, dragons could write. And read. And do any number of complicated things. Her kind coveted knowledge as much as they did jewels and shiny things. However, most chose not to reveal everything they knew.
Finished, Ilith folded her legs under her and settled down.
Dewdrop and several others stared down at the small etching Ilith had made in the dirt.
"And you still haven't seen a dragon write," someone muttered.
"It's too precise to not be words," the leader said.
"It's the ancient language," a man said from the back of the crowd.
Ilith watched as he stepped forward. She remembered this scent from the boat. He was the one who had unsettled Tate. She saw in him the potential to do great harm.
Ilith snorted at her other half's concerns. He was small and didn't look parti
cularly strong to Ilith. They could easily kill him if he became too much of a threat.
He wore loose clothing, what she thought Tate referred to as a robe, that hid his body. No matter, he didn't move like a threat. He lacked the ability to pass through the world silently. His gaze was intelligent and Ilith might have found it fascinating to confuse him with riddles once upon a time.
The Silva Ilith had brought with her leaned closer. “He’s correct. These are from the era just before the great wars.”
The man knelt, softly tracing the characters Ilith had written. "Older, I'd say. Look at the roundness in the arcs, the simplicity on the ends. If it had been just before the great wars, the curves would be harsher, and the end would have a stylistic edge that was popular in that time period."
The man looked up, consideration in his gaze. "I'd place this form as a contemporary of what the Savior's used to communicate back and forth during their war."
Gabriella's gaze was assessing as she examined the markings. "You've got a good eye. I wouldn't have picked up on those subtle differences."
The man stood. "I've studied the original documents they left behind quite extensively."
Gabriella's lip lifted in a snarl befitting a predator. Ilith felt a spurt of amusement at this prey’s sign of aggression. "A guardian. I guess I should have known."
The man's back was straight, his chin raised as he met Gabriella’s gaze with a cool one of his own.
"I wouldn't be so quick to talk if I were you, Morain," the leader said with a sly smile.
Dewdrop spun on his heel, his expression cold and deadly. He drew in a deep breath before releasing a sound that made Ilith's ears prick up.
"You’re part of the group who attacked us in Auburn. You must have been working for them this entire time," Dewdrop said, his voice cold. “I was wondering how you and Ilith crossed paths.”
Night stalked Gabriella from the other side, pinning her between Tate's two bond mates. Ilith was impressed by the smaller predator. He moved silently and swiftly, slipping into position before the Silva even knew he was there.
Night didn't bare his fangs or waste time with pointless posturing, just stared intently at his prey. He was all the more intimidating for his utter silence.
Gabriella stiffened when she noticed how the two had neatly boxed her in, using Ilith on one side and the leader on the other to cut off all avenues of escape.
Gabriella frowned as if considering the best course of action. "Yes, I am part of the Morain, but I’m not responsible for the attack or her kidnapping
"Liar." There was a strange reverberation in Dewdrop’s voice, pulling power from the other world. Ilith regarded him with interest, wondering if this was part of his abilities.
She knew the creature his kind had been based on, a worthy predator. Dangerous to even unwary dragons. It would be fascinating to see how closely its progeny had developed to the original.
"Careful, little grub," the pest said, eyeing the younger man.
Dewdrop didn't listen, staring down Gabriella with a threat in his eyes. "What did you do to them? Why can't Ilith transform back to Tate?"
There was a compulsion to his voice that even Ilith felt and she wasn’t its target. She leaned closer, fascinated by this development.
Despite her preoccupation with the possibilities Dewdrop’s new talent presented, Ilith was aware of the guardian when he jerked at her name. He slid her a curious glance but held his silence. Smart. Tate would need to be careful of this one. He saw much more than people gave him credit for.
"Nothing that will bring either of them harm."
Dewdrop stabbed a finger at Ilith. "Not bring them harm? She can’t change back. I don't know about the Silva, but my people have many stories about what happens when dragons feel trapped or panicked, none of them good."
Dewdrop shot Ilith an apologetic glance, saying without words that he didn't really mean it. She flicked her tongue at him to let him know she understood.
She'd seen Night act similarly when he and Tate played off each other's strengths to someone else's detriment. Strange to be so included. She kind of liked the game and anticipated playing more.
For that reason, she opened her mouth and roared.
Night nearly levitated off the ground before landing, his ears and coat fluffing out so he seemed three times bigger, as everyone else jumped.
Ilith crossed her paws and flicked her tail again in apology. Perhaps the roar was too much. Hm, maybe next time they could work on a signal.
Night sent her a baleful glare. Was that really necessary?
Ilith didn’t dignify that with a response, blinking back at him.
Her ploy had obviously worked when Gabriella started talking, making sure to keep one eye on Ilith at all times. "I don’t know why she’s stuck. She shouldn’t still be suffering from the jade root’s effects. It's been almost two weeks since we dosed her last."
"Jade root?" There was a hesitation in the guardian’s voice that said he recognized the root.
"You know it?" Dewdrop asked.
His nod was slow in coming. "It’s an old remedy. I’ve heard of it being given to novitiates who were having trouble after bonding to a dragon. It dulls the connection, allowing the human half some peace."
"Wait, why haven't we heard of this?" Dewdrop asked with a scowl. "The children who were taken and bonded against their will could have used its help."
Ilith snorted, letting them know her opinion on the matter. It might have dulled the connection, but at the dragon's expense. They needed a way to interact and vent their frustration or risk going mad and dragging their bonded down with them.
"Because it's dangerous, especially when administered over long periods of time," the guardian said. "In most cases, when the person who received the treatment went off it, their dragon was more out of control than they had been to begin with. Taking it permanently isn't a solution either as it causes severe paranoia and eventually death."
Dewdrop spun back to Gabriella, the fury in his expression impressive in one so young. Night inched forward, low to the ground, his belly almost brushing the dirt as he stalked the Silva.
"You gave her that poison? She's been missing for almost two weeks."
Gabriella had gone still, her body stiff and alert, aware her life hung by a very thin thread. "She only received three doses, well below a dangerous quantity."
Dewdrop checked with the guardian, who hesitated before nodding.
"Then why is she still stuck?" Dewdrop asked, the dangerous echo from before filling his voice.
Gabriella shook her head. She looked lost and confused "I don't know. An old, dangerous contact of ours took her from us several weeks ago."
Dewdrop hesitated, his gaze going to Night. Ilith concentrated, almost able to pick out the mental threads as the two communicated with each other.
"If that's the case, how are you with Ilith?" Dewdrop challenged.
"By accident. I’d been tracking Tate for days, trying to get close enough to help her." Gabriella’s gaze was serious, her words earnest. "I was wounded. Tate saved me."
Ilith could smell Dewdrop's skepticism and confusion, sense it in the way he held himself.
"Describe this man who took her," the leader said.
"He was once a guardian and is now quite mad."
Dewdrop and Night glanced at each. "Brown Eyes."
"Are you sure?" the leader asked.
"Reasonably. Tate said she didn't think he was stable. She said he was a guardian once who went insane."
The guardian straightened, his attention swinging toward Dewdrop. "Christopher?"
Dewdrop nodded. "That's his name. At least, one of them from what we can tell. I have contacts who know him by other names, but that's the oldest one we could find."
Night chuffed, drawing their focus, his attention now on the guardian.
Dewdrop nodded. "How do you know him? Don't bother denying it. Night will know if you lie."
Reluctanc
e was written in the man's posture. "He was once my mentor. I trusted him unwisely. It cost many greatly."
"None of this explains the dragon's predicament," the pest said.
Ilith laid her head down and watched them as they watched her.
"Could Christopher have gotten hold of this root and dosed Tate with it?" Dewdrop asked.
"Possibly."
"No," the guardian said.
"What makes you say that?" Dewdrop asked.
"He would have had a reason for taking her. The dragon would have been part of it."
"He could have been afraid Tate's dragon would take exception to her kidnapping."
The guardian shook his head. "No, he would have anticipated that and counted on her gratefulness for being rescued. He was arrogant like that."
The last sentence was said with a bitterness that wasn't lost on any of those present.
"If the root's not the culprit, then what is preventing the transformation?" Dewdrop asked, looking like he was about to snap with frustration.
Gabriella shook her head regretfully. "I don't know."
Ilith's tail flicked behind her, a hint of her own inner turmoil showing through.
"I might be able to do something," the guardian said after a strained silence.
Dewdrop studied him, suspicion in his face. "Why would you do that? Every guardian I've met has treated the dragon-ridden and any creature with the touch of the creators on them with extreme prejudice and dislike."
"Not all of us are the same," the guardian said in a brusque voice. "Just as I imagine many of those in this troop aren't necessarily the same."
At that, the leader straightened, fixing the other man with hard stare. After several long seconds, he murmured. "Indeed, as is the case in every society."
"I have some healing ability, and I have an idea of what might be wrong," the guardian said.
Ilith found her feet and waddled his way. There was an uneasy noise from more than one of the people assembled as they watched her study the guardian. She dropped her head until her snout was right next to his chest. Then she inhaled, drawing his scent in deep. She caught no hint of deception.