Highland Dragon

by Genevieve Jack

  “Are you afraid of heights,” he asked her.

  “No.” There wasn’t much that Avery legitimately feared. She didn’t care for alligators, but that hadn’t stopped her from kayaking through an infested swamp with her sister. Heights she found manageable, even when she’d stood on the edge of the cliff in front of Alexander’s cave and faced Aborella. The thing about Avery was, she didn’t like to dwell on things and so she rarely had time to fear them.

  “Good.” Nathaniel grabbed her around the waist, spread his wings, and flew.

  Avery should not have eaten that third Lorne sausage. Her stomach dropped as he rose higher and higher, to the very top of the ridge. He perched on an outcropping of stone. It was cold there, and she was suddenly thankful for the layers of wool and linen around her.

  “Why are we here?” Avery had to raise her voice to speak over the wind. “I thought you were taking me to the gate?”

  “This is the gate,” Nathaniel said apologetically. He didn’t seem remotely cold although her teeth were starting to chatter. Dragons.

  “This is the gate?” Avery looked around her but saw nothing.

  With a wave of his hand, a scattering of amethyst dust flew from his fingers and caught on an invisible dome that cut through the thin air beyond the mountain’s edge. Avery noted a large rectangle where the dust fell darker before disappearing altogether. The door.

  “Is that it?” She pointed a hand toward the general area. “I don’t even think I can jump that far.”

  “I’ll fly you over and drop you in.”

  All her muscles tensed. “Are you—” Her head whipped back and forth as she stared over the edge. “I’ll die from the fall!”

  “You’ll land inside the bubble. It’s only about a three-foot drop. As soon as you fall through the wards, everything you see here will change.”

  She peered over the edge, her vision wavering and sweat blooming on her upper lip despite the cold. As she took in the distance to the earth below, she grew dizzy and nauseated and had to back away from the edge to keep from toppling over.

  “Nathaniel, if you drop me and I miss the door…”

  “You’ll fall on this side of the pocket. But don’t worry. I’ll swoop down and catch you before you hit the ground.”

  “Why would I worry?” A nervous laugh broke her lips.

  “You’re not changing your mind, are you?” he asked. “You can, you know. It’s a lot to ask.”

  It was a lot to ask. She’d only known Nathaniel for a short time, and she’d have to trust him with her life. Every cell in her body fought the idea of jumping over the edge or allowing herself to fall. Her logical brain understood that this was magic, but her logical mind wasn’t as loud as her illogical panic center, which was, at this moment, running in circles in her brain with its hair on fire. She believed Nathaniel that the door was there and that she’d land safely on the other side, but her physical body and her instincts screamed in her head. Most of her still believed in the laws of physics despite the fact that the only reason she was standing there, on top of this mountain, was because a man who turned into a dragon on occasion had made the two of them invisible and flown her over the heads of everyday hikers.

  “Avery?”

  “I’m ready,” she said, her voice shaking. “Quickly please. It’s cold.”

  There was no hesitation. He swept her off the side of the cliff, flew her over what appeared to be open air, and dropped her.

  Chapter Six

  Everfield

  The Fairy Kingdom, Ouros.

  Aborella woke, nestled in the roots of a zum zum tree, its leaves above her a medley of emerald, chestnut, and gold. The zum zum was used in healing because it was the only tree a fairy could draw energy from endlessly without killing the tree. Zum zums efficiently synthesized energy from fairy soil while their natural defenses guarded against overdraining.

  There was only one place in the five kingdoms where zum zums grew, and only rarely were they grown inside homes. Sylas’s mate must either be a healer or wealthy to afford such a convenience. As more details of the room she was in came into focus, she decided it wasn’t wealth.

  She was in a small cottage typical of her homeland of Everfield. A fire burned in the hearth of the main room within the warming radius of a plush sofa. Colorful tapestries hung from the walls and matched a woven rug on the floor. Everything was brightly colored and made by hand as was the custom. Artisanship had always been valued in Everfield above all else.

  Sylas and the one called Dianthe must have brought her back to the fairy kingdom. She raised the fingers of her only remaining hand to her face. Pain shot through her head and made her eye twitch as her fingertips met swelling and tenderness. Had they recognized her? Considering she was still alive, she guessed not.

  “Don’t move too much.” A face appeared before her with skin of deep luminescent mahogany and eyes the color of warm honey. Dianthe. She was dressed in a sleeveless yellow sheath dress that brought out her strange gold eyes. Aborella thought her ancestors must have drunk the sun to cause the radiance that seemed to emanate from her. A strange warm feeling bloomed deep within Aborella’s chest.

  “You’ve been out for days. You might be disoriented.” Dianthe sat on the zum zum roots beside her and scooped an arm behind Aborella’s shoulders. Once she’d sat her up, she brought a cup of sweet-smelling liquid to her lips. The flavor was distinct, a popular beverage in Everfield that Aborella remembered from her youth. It was a concoction of bullhorn root and apricot nectar that tasted like heaven and easily slid down her throat. She drained the cup dry.

  “Thank—” Aborella attempted to say thank you, but her voice gave out.

  “It’s better if you don’t speak. You’re lucky to be alive. Your head, face, and body have been severely brutalized. I honestly don’t know how you survived it. The good news is there has already been growth in your limbs. I think your right leg will fully regenerate. Your arm as well.”

  Aborella noticed immediately that she didn’t mention the left leg. It was bad, she knew, pinched off high on the thigh. When Nathaniel had pounced on her, she’d had barely enough magic to transport the core of her body back to Paragon. Some of her had been left behind.

  The loss of limb was not so disappointing as the loss of magic. Aborella’s skin had been covered in magical symbols before, most of which had resided on her arms and legs. Losing the limbs meant losing the magic. She stretched the fingers of her one remaining hand in front of her face. At least some of her symbols remained, but they were barely distinguishable within her pale skin. Nothing like how they looked when her complexion was at its full dark purple splendor.

  Dianthe scooted off the roots beside her and onto a stool. “I want you to know you are safe here. I can’t imagine what you’ve endured, but it seems clear to us that the empress was behind this. Did she torture you?”

  Aborella paused, then nodded her head. It wasn’t a lie. Eleanor had buried her alive. If that didn’t count as torture, she wasn’t sure what did. As for the cause of her injuries, that was something Dianthe could never know, not unless Aborella wanted to meet the edge of Sylas’s blade.

  “Well, you’re back in Everfield now, and this household is no friend to the crown. We will keep you here until you heal, and we can return you to your family. You do have family in Everfield?”

  This was a harder one to answer. She might have distant relatives here but none who would take her in. Her immediate family had passed long ago. She shook her head no.

  Dianthe sighed as if the thought made her sad. Aborella thanked the stars above that she could not speak. Coming up with a history that wouldn’t give her identity away would be difficult. Everyone in Everfield knew of Aborella, and everyone hated her.

  “I would love to hear your story, but all that can wait. For now just work on getting better.” She stood and padded into the small kitchen area where she removed three trays of cookies from the stone oven.

  The scent of
cinnamon wafted through the cottage. Aborella’s mouth started to water. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dianthe load a basket with the confections and cover it in a stitched linen towel. She slid the basket over her arm.

  “I have to take these to the solarium for the convergence celebration. First night is tomorrow. If all goes well, maybe we can get you up and around the fire by the waning.”

  Aborella remembered the annual ceremony when Ouros’s two moons aligned, both full. The celebration lasted for seven days, until the moons visibly parted and waned again. Dianthe must have made lunar cookies. Aborella was unexpectedly filled with nostalgia, and her eyes grew misty with memories. What was wrong with her? The people of Everfield had been cruel to her as a child. They’d hated her, and she’d hated it here. And if she were well enough to attend in seven days, she’d be well enough to return to the Obsidian Palace and regain the empress’s favor.

  Dianthe donned her red cloak but paused by Aborella’s side on the way to the door. She selected one palm-sized cookie from her basket. “They’ll never miss it.”

  Slowly, Aborella raised her hand and took the cookie, uncomfortable with the gratitude that consumed her. Dianthe didn’t expect a thank-you. She pulled up her hood and drifted out the front door, leaving Aborella alone with her cookie, her pain, and a strange brew of emotions she wished would go away.

  Chapter Seven

  Avery’s stomach lurched and her massive skirts swept over her head as she fell through the icy chill. Abruptly, her feet smacked earth, her knees gave out, and she rolled ass over noggin while flashes of mossy dirt broke through the blinding and bumpy tumble. She only stopped when her back slapped something hard and rough.

  With both hands, she clawed at the fabric covering her face. She’d somersaulted into a rowan tree, its red berries bright against the lush green leaves. Rolling on her side, she scrambled to standing, smoothing her clothing and her hair. A mucky, wet thwuck met her ears as she lowered her left foot to the blanket of moss. Dammit! She’d lost a shoe in the tumble and water was now rising up around her ankle as if she’d stepped on a sponge.

  Fuck! She hobbled for higher ground on her toes and shod foot, searching for her lost boot. That’s when she realized the leather bag with all her money and things had come off her waist in her scuffle with the hill. Everything was in that bag: the mole to camouflage her voice, the money for a room, a box of matches to start a fire, a canteen, and food to get her through the two-day trip. She was doomed without it.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” She limped back the way she’d rolled. Mercifully, she found the boot quickly enough, although an ominous squelch rose from her unprotected foot as she bent to pick it up. Everything was wet; her clothing was soaked from rolling along the hill, her sock was soaked, even her hair felt damp.

  “Don’t panic, Avery. You’ve been here less than five minutes.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. And another. And another. She assessed her sodden clothing. “Look at it this way—at least you’re not muddy.”

  She wrung out the sock and then placed both it and the boot on her foot again, this time double knotting the laces, a step she’d neglected that morning. The wet wool squished juicily inside the leather. Still, she was far less concerned about her soggy toes than her missing bag. Nathaniel had made it clear she’d likely have to sleep outdoors tonight and stay at an inn tomorrow as Castle Dunchridhe was more than two days’ walk from the gate to the builgean. How would she survive without water, food, or matches?

  Panic rising again, her gaze swept over the ground and between the trees, her heart beating faster with every passing minute. What if she couldn’t find it? How would she survive long enough to even reach Xavier? She’d have to find water and food and shelter with no money or directions. Her breath came in pants, and she closed her eyes for a moment to regain her composure.

  When she opened them again, a flash of gold caught the corner of her eye. Her brow furrowed. It reminded her of the flash that had led her to Xavier’s portrait. She moved toward it. A divot in the moss marked where she must have landed and there, thrown off to the side, was the leather bag.

  “Thank you!” she said toward the heavens and the guardian angel who must have intervened. The sky was exceptionally blue above her. No trace of a door or a ward. Suddenly she was glad she hadn’t noticed that earlier. Had she not found her bag, she couldn’t have given up even if she’d wanted to. She could not reach the door to the builgean on her own. Truly, there was no turning back now.

  She slid her arms into the drawstring loops of the bag and wore it like a backpack. Nathaniel had said to head downhill and that she would eventually reach a village. She turned, decided on a promising direction, and started to walk, her wet foot squishing in her boot with every step.

  Four hours later, Avery still hadn’t seen a single human being or building. Not even an abandoned shack. The frothy babbling of a stream welcomed her to its bank, and she took a seat on a large stone to remove her boots. Her wet sock had never dried properly, and she peeled it from her foot and laid the wool in the sun on the rock beside her. The heel of her foot was rubbed raw, and she plunged it into the stream where the cool water soothed it. She’d been stupid to walk all this way with a wet sock in waterproof boots. She stripped off the other one for good measure and ran her toes through the grass.

  Mmmmmmm. The feeling was heavenly. She’d underestimated how heavy the boots would get on the long hike.

  She took the bag from her shoulders and thunked it on the stone beside her, digging out her canteen and chugging what was left in it. Once she’d drained it dry, she dunked it under the water. When it was full again, she dug out the pills Nathaniel had given her and dropped one in. Whatever it was, he claimed it would clean any impurities from the water. After a brief fizzing, a puff of gray steam blew out of the mouth.

  “Seems like a good sign.”

  She sniffed it, then gave it a tentative sip. Delicious. Screwing the cap back on, she returned it to her bag and pulled out one of the protein bars she’d packed. She opened the package and carefully placed the wrapper inside her bag. Nothing good would come from littering what was otherwise a pristine streambed.

  Movement across the rushing water caught her eye, and she squinted at the space between the trees. There was something there. Something brown. A bear? It moved again.

  It was a man! A small man with a furry brown face.

  “Hello?” She waved cheerfully at him.

  The man’s eyes widened, but he didn’t wave back. She took a bite of the protein bar. God, it was awful. Was this supposed to be peanut butter? It tasted like Play-Doh.

  The furry man came closer but stopped at the edge of the stream. Now he was in full light, and Avery could see he was indeed very hairy. She wondered if he suffered from that wolf man disease she’d watched a YouTube video about once. What was it called? Hypertrichosis. Poor thing. Perhaps that’s why he was living out here in the middle of nowhere.

  Suddenly she wondered if he was hungry. Was that why his eyes were focused on the PowerBar?

  “Would you like some?” she asked, holding up the bar. “I’ll warn you, it tastes like shit, but it’s better than starvation.”

  The man splashed through the stream and plopped down beside her on the rock. Now that he was closer, she noticed he was smaller than she was. Avery was tall for a woman, so that in itself wasn’t necessarily odd. But when he’d moved across the stream, she’d noticed his limbs seemed unnaturally short. She didn’t think he was a child but suspected whatever medical condition had caused his hairy face had also stunted his growth.

  She handed him the last half of the protein bar and reached into her bag for the apple she’d brought. She’d prefer that anyway.

  “I’m Avery.”

  He didn’t tell her his name but bit into the bar, chewing in a way that produced cute little squeaks like a guinea pig.

  “Can you speak?”

  He glanced at her and kept eating.

&n
bsp; “All right. I’m going to take that as a no.” She bit into the apple. “I’m trying to find Castle Dunchridhe. Do you know if I am close?”

  The little man nodded, his mouth full, and pointed downstream.

  “It’s that way? I just follow the stream?”

  At first he nodded, but then he stopped chewing and rested a paw-like hand on her arm. He glanced downstream and shook his head, then stood and impersonated a monster with gnashing teeth and slashing claws. He shook his head again.

  “There’s a monster in the castle?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you for letting me know.” This hairy little man was her first friend here. She didn’t suppose it would be a good idea for her to let on that she knew very well that the laird of Castle Dunchridhe was a dragon or that she’d been sent by other monsters to collect him.

  Once she’d finished her apple, she slid her socks back on, which were thankfully dry and warmed from the sun, then donned and laced her boots. Though the furry man had finished his bar, he remained beside her, watching her intently, still looking hungry. If she didn’t have to ration her food, she’d offer him another. She collected her bag and slid it onto her shoulders.

  “I have to go now. It was nice to meet you. You’re the first friend I’ve made here. I hope we run into each other again.” Avery turned to follow the stream, but the little man took one of her hands and gestured with his head. He wanted her to go with him. She didn’t feel like she was in any danger with him, but she was burning daylight. She wanted to travel as far as possible before nightfall.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  He let her go and she strode from the place, feeling the man’s eyes on her back for a long while as she took his advice and followed the stream toward the valley.

  Chapter Eight

  Avery walked until sunset, then found a clearing and built a small fire from gathered sticks within a circle of stones. She donned the hat and gloves the oreads had left in her pockets and wrapped herself in her arisaid. Beside the crackling fire, she was warm enough, and she looked up at the stars and thought she’d never seen so many at once.