Fire and Fury

by K.N. Lee

  She froze in her spot before it, shuddering, and screamed as it blew a blast of bright, golden flames.

  She scrambled to her feet, returned to the veil with Jora.

  The spirit was gone, and Jora now stood, holding her staff. She peered down at Amalia, her eyes bright with wonder. "Did you see it?"

  Amalia caught her breath, wiping sweat from her face. She could still smell the dusty valley, and feel the heat of the flames that creature blew at her. It wasn't too late to run, but she refused. She would face it with Kylan and her people by her side, but the fear was there, and she couldn't shake it.

  "What was that?" Amalia asked, still breathless.

  Jora's jaw tightened. "Drako," she said. "The Defiler."

  16

  The time to say goodbye to Wregard had come.

  It was a beautiful village, with so much rich history. But, it was not meant to be their true home.

  Kjos awaited, and Amalia and Kylan were ready to open the gates for their people. The three dragon tribes took to the skies in their dragon form, and Amalia rode on Kylan's back.

  At her sides was her quad of warriors. Sinley was a brilliant shade of red that matched his human form’s hair. Tofi and Svein were a pale golden color, while Olaf was a sleek black. They kept pace as Kylan led the way.

  She couldn’t believe what had come out of her mouth during the meeting with the other chiefs. She’d spoken Kjoshi, and had convinced them of her true heritage, and now, Lachlan, Vorg, and Harald brought their entire tribes along.

  Warmth filled her chest as happiness settled over her.

  A wide smile came to her face as the cool wind blew at her and lifted her hair. She wore her red cloak, and carried her ax, and couldn't be happier to be in the air with her dragon once again.

  There was something magical and rejuvenating about flying. The world below stretched out all around them, and there was such beauty to every inch of it.

  From the clouds, Amalia felt untouchable, and they were a sight to be seen as thousands of dragons blotted out the sun.

  There was no more hiding. They were going home, and would let nothing stand in their way.

  Amalia and the dragons flew for days, leaving behind the cold climate, and entering a land more similar to where she’d grown up. Kjos was a tropical land—one she’d only seen in dreams, but couldn’t wait to return to.

  The dragons finally stopped toward sunset on the forth day. On the outskirts of Fjord, they set up camp in the meadows of Mueir, and Amalia smiled to herself, remembering when she'd told Aros that's where she'd come from. She'd been too afraid to tell him the truth--to tell him she came from Skal where many Mages hid amongst the humans.

  As she washed her face in the nearby creek, and took off her boots to stretch her toes, she thought of what she'd do once she brought the dragons home. That would not be the end of her journey, for she'd still have to bring the Mages home as well.

  The Mages of Skal lived in silence and fear, keeping their true nature a secret for centuries. She knew what it was like to have to hide what demanded to be released. It was torturous to have magic flowing through her veins and being too afraid to even test it.

  As she settled down on the rocks, and stretched her arms and legs, Kylan came through the trees. He smiled at her, and sat by her side.

  "How does it feel to be heading home?"

  She turned to him, folding her legs beneath her. "I should ask you the same."

  "Amazing," he answered and she smiled back at him. “You have no idea. I never thought I’d be the one to take us home. I never imagined it would be with someone like you.”

  He took her hand and held it at his side, and they watched as the moon peeked its way from behind the clouds.

  The sky darkened and the other dragons sat around fires and cooked up fresh game from the earlier hunt. She was starving, but didn't want to leave Kylan's side. They hadn't had much time to simply enjoy one another's company since they'd met. Time spent over dreamscapes and flying were what their relationship was based on, and she wanted more.

  The night she'd come to his room, she had been tempted to stay. Seeing him without his shirt on had done something to her. She couldn't get it out of her head. The hard muscles of his arms and tight abdomen stirred a heat in her thighs that she didn't know how to put out. All she knew was that being near him was all she wanted.

  "I never knew there was a different life out there," she said.

  He turned to her, his black hair falling over his face. He raked it back, and gazed at her with those green eyes that made her heart skip a beat whenever they were cast her way.

  "Tell me about your home in Skal," he said, settling onto his forearm, resting on his side beside her.

  She pursed her lips, and looked toward the pool of water collected beneath the slim, waterfall.

  "How about we save that for another time?” She stood from the smooth rock, and reached down to take his hand.

  The air was warmer this far from the east of Fjord, and she suddenly wanted to dip more than her feet in the deliciously cool water.

  Her heart ached for him, and she would not suppress it. Not anymore.

  He lifted a brow and watched as she removed her gown and apron and stepped into the water.

  "Well," he said, taking off his boots and socks.

  In only her underdress, she swam in the water, thrilled to cool herself.

  When Kylan joined her, she giggled as he took her into his arms and held her against his body. He simply stared back, and searched her eyes. Under the light of the moon, her smile faded as she read his soul.

  There was a chance he felt the same way about her, and her heart raced as he held her tight against the hardness of his abdomen. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and closed her eyes as they kissed.

  Every nerve awakened as he devoured her mouth like never before. That aching heat between her legs returned, despite the cool water. Nothing eased the pressure, except pressing herself tighter against him as he laced his fingers within her hair.

  "Kylan," she whispered as he carried her through the water and pressed her against the slick wall of the mountain.

  He took her bottom lip between his teeth and glided his tongue along it before kissing her again and pulling, slightly away.

  "Yes?"

  She held his face between her hands and looked into his eyes. "Promise me you'll never hurt me--that you'll never betray me."

  He kissed her again, his hands holding her steady by her upper thighs.

  She knew that her quad was out there in the darkness, guarding her and possibly taking a glance their way. But, she didn't care.

  He rested his forehead against hers and they shared a breath together.

  "I would never dream of hurting you," he whispered to her. "I have never felt this way about a girl before, and I will cherish you for as long as you let me. Until death if we're lucky."

  She grinned, overwhelmed with joy by his response.

  "I will hold you to that," she said, and he gave her thighs a squeeze before kissing her again, his tongue caressing hers as their passion ignited beneath the stars of the night sky.

  17

  When the sun rose, Amalia awakened within Kylan's arms, wrapped in blankets. She didn’t want to move, or awaken him. She simply wanted to remain there where she was warm and close to him. Reality didn’t exist in that moment, just their connection.

  Alas, they had more ground to cover and couldn’t remain in each other’s arms all day.

  She yawned and sat up to stretch. Olaf stood nearby, and gave her a nod when she looked his way.

  "The others are breaking up camp and preparing to head to the Dragon's Pass," he reported, and turned away, his arms folded across his chest.

  She was grateful that he didn’t stare or linger. He still remembered her too much of Aros, and may have been a bit cold to him because of it. Out of the other three, he was the least mystified by her, and seemed to only tolerate her because it was his
duty.

  She groaned, tired and aching from sleeping on the ground, but grateful she had enjoyed Kylan's warmth and company throughout the night. As the sun had set, it had grown steadily colder, and he kept her pressed to his inferno of a body as they slept.

  He stirred, and she glanced down at him as his green eyes opened and squinted. "Morning, Empress of Erani," he said, and she had to hide her beaming grin, looking away.

  "Good morning, Chief Kylan," she returned, almost ashamed to feel so happy during such a trying time.

  He sat up behind her, and rubbed her shoulders.

  She rolled her neck, eyes closing at the feel of his large, strong hands on her. His massage was just what she needed. He worked out the tension and knots along her upper back and neck, and moved his way down to massage her hands.

  He yawned and stood. They'd both changed into their dry clothes, but Kylan hadn't put his shirt back on. She glanced at him as he pulled his tunic over his chest and his hair into a ponytail.

  She joined him, and put on her boots.

  "The others are prepared to continue the journey," she told him, and he nodded.

  "Good. We are close to the mouth of the Dragon's Pass," he said as she tossed her cloak over her shoulders and secured it.

  "Let's get a move on then, shall we?"

  He nodded, and they dressed and returned to the camp of dragons.

  Jora met her halfway as she approached, and took her by the shoulders. She smiled, and glanced at Kylan as he walked past with a nod.

  “I see the master and her dragon are getting along,” Jora said, her eyes twinkling.

  Amalia’s cheeks reddened and she pursed her lips and nodded, unable to think of anything to say that would lessen her embarrassment.

  She pinched Amalia’s cheeks, and winked. “Do not fret, child. That is a good thing,” she said. “One day, the two of you will be joined in a union that will unite the races once again. One day, your Mage blood and his dragon blood will create life.”

  She left Amalia then, and Amalia’s jaw hung at what she’d just been told. She clasped her hands over her head, stunned by such a revelation.

  What would they create with their love?

  18

  The procession of dragons flew over the red river, and Amalia remembered the moment she’d done the same.

  Fleeing the Brotherhood was the first trial she’d had to overcome on her return to her people, and as she glanced down at the green grass, rolling meadows, and clusters of villages, she imagined what it would be like to return someday and bring the Mages home.

  She looked ahead.

  That was for another day.

  First, she and the dragons needed to reclaim their home and prepare it for the return of the other clans who belonged there.

  Her eyes widened at the first glimpse of the Dragon’s Pass.

  It was just how she remembered it being during her walk with the spirits. Two massive mountains awaited, with a wide valley in between.

  It was the only way into Kjos.

  She could see why. Behind each mountain was a drop off into the abysmal lands below their realm. The world of Alsgard was but a floating continent, one of many in the system of worlds above and below. And, to return home, they would be forced down one path, for even flying over it was of no use. The boundary that separated it from the rest of the world was a thick, green veil that stretched from ground to sky.

  Her lips parted as she beheld it with awe. Home was hidden behind that veil. It was so close, yet so far.

  Amalia held on as Kylan flew to the smooth, black ground and landed. She slid off his back and stretched, looking to the red sunrise. The other dragons followed their example, and landed around them.

  The dragons shifted into their human form and beheld the two large doors that stood between them and the realm of Kjos. Behind those doors was what they had come for—their home—their birthright.

  Kylan stood beside her, his hand on the small of her back as smoke puffed into the air from a volcano.

  "How are we going to do this?" Amalia asked, licking her lips as she watched the fire and lava pump into the crevices of the ground, and the film of magic shrouding the entire island.

  A narrow bridge connected the continent of Skal to that of Kjos where the Dragon’s Pass awaited, and the red river rushed beneath.

  He turned to her, and she leaned into his chest, the exhaustion of riding for days finally catching up with her. She could only imagine how fatigued he and the other dragons were.

  “Here, we are,“ he said. “Once we defeat Drako we can use the key the elves have been keeping safe for us."

  Every nerve tension her body as a shard of white ice shot through her. A raspy gasp escape her lips and she shot a look to the left and saw a stone creature approaching.

  “Golems,” Kylan said, his brows lifted with surprise as he held her in his arms.

  They shot a look to it, as more appeared, crashing along the hard ground with their massive, craggy, rock bodies. It slid along the black ground it’s large stone arms and stone legs moving slowly, scraping against it with each move.

  Her face blanched as one of them ran its hand through the river of lava and threw a ball of it through the air.

  "Look out," Amalia shouted, running to avoid the path of the lava. She slid across the ground, ducking as the balls of lava soared through the air and ripped through several dragons.

  Kylan took her by the arm. “Come,” he said. “We can fly over them, get away from this area.”

  She nodded, her heart thumping in her chest like a drum, and ran alongside him as he made the shift into a dragon. It was quick, and effortless, and she was able to grab ahold of him before he lifted them high above Golem territory.

  The others did the same, and her heart broke at seeing the fallen dragons laying in pools of lava, burnt beyond recognition.

  How many more would die before they were even granted entry into the gates?

  19

  Days passed without any word from Eostre, and Aros began to imagine the worse. There was no way of knowing if she was even alive.

  She was strong woman. She’d find a way to survive. He had to be confident in that.

  Aros and his brothers were tired, weakened from malnourishment, and were beginning to lose all hope.

  After the guards brought their only meal of the day; a tray of cold porridge, bread, and stale ale and stagnant water, he stood from his place in the sticky, wet hay, and rushed to the door.

  “Tell your king I have a message for him,” he shouted to the guard who barely paused to hear his plea.

  “And, what would that be?” the guard asked, chuckling.

  “Tell him, the gods will abandon us if we side with Einar.”

  The guard glanced at him, frowning as if he were speaking a foreign language. “Enough of your yammering,” he said.

  “Aye,” the other said. “No one around here cares about your gods. In the Citadel, King Rollo is god.”

  “And, that pretty little miss of yours is worshipping him sure enough.”

  Aros’ face paled at those words. “What do you mean?”

  The guards laughed once more and headed for the door. “Whatever it is, you better thank her for keeping him from chopping off your heads and tossing you over the edge of the realm. He’s this close to doing so.” The guard held up his hand, with his index finger and thumb held barely an inch apart.

  Once those doors slammed shut, rage boiled within Aros’ gut. He snarled, wrapping his hands around the bars of his cell, and willing himself to resist the urge to shift. Becoming a Wolf at that moment would do nothing but further weaken him.

  “Keep your head about you, there, boy,” Sarsa, the dryad said, stepping to his cell door, and peering at Aros with those glowing, yellow eyes of his.

  Aros looked to him, his idea bubbling forth from his mouth before he could restrain himself. “I have a plan,” he said. “To get us out of here.”

  Magnus groaned
. “Great,” he mumbled.

  “Another plan?” Helgi said. “Nothing you’ve conjured up has worked so far.”

  Sarsa glanced to his right, where the twins were being held, and back to Aros. “I’m listening.”

  Aros licked his lips, and leaned forward. “Your butterfly friends. Let me send a message with them to the fae folk outside the Citadel.”

  “What are you on about?” Sarsa said, narrowing his eyes.

  Aros raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “I read something once about dryad magic.”

  “And what? Why would the fae help you, boy?”

  “I know how they can reclaim the Citadel,” he said, secretly praying he was right. “This was once their home, and they were driven out. I have connections that can make it so that they reclaim this structure, and drive King Rollo back east.”

  A huff came from Sarsa, and he extended his arm toward him, it lengthening like that of a growing tree branch.

  “Why not?” Sarsa asked, a low chuckle coming from his cell. “I’ve been locked in this blasted dungeon for nearly three years. What’s a shitty plan if it actually works?”

  20

  A butterfly with yellow wings and a fat, furry body flew across the dungeon hall, and landed on the bars that kept Aros trapped in his cell.

  He whispered to it, the antennae flickering as it listened to his soft voice.

  “Race to the fae queen,” he commanded. “Tell her there is a way to drive the Fenrir king from her domain.”

  Queen Kells had been locked in an uneasy treaty with the Wolves for centuries. He knew they would be more than happy to return to the beautiful city they’d created. He just hoped she was brave enough to take on the Fenrir king, and that inciting a war between the fae and Wolves would not end with bloodshed.

  If only Eris and Enit would guide him in his time of need. But, he hadn’t heard from them in weeks. He had his mission, and it was up to him to be crafty enough to execute it.