by Dianna Love
The massive vulture opened its wings, slowing its descent to land perfectly, then hopped two steps and stopped. It stood there, majestic eagle-shaped head lifted to the wind. Then black pits for eyes glowered down at her as if she’d dared to enter the bird’s kingdom.
What now?
Would it wait for her to die or help the process along?
She’d be damned if she would make killing her easy. Her irritating sword still hummed, content to remain in the sheath. Regaining her calm, in spite of her hands trembling and her breathing coming in gasps, she dusted herself off casually.
Only twenty feet away, the vulture took a step toward her.
Lifting her chin in defiance, she threatened, “I warn you there is a somethin’ greater than you in these mountains. I am family. You do not want to piss him off.”
The eagle head dropped down in a show of intimidation. Taking another step forward, the vulture indicated how little her words mattered.
She took a step back and glanced over her shoulder.
Well, hell. She stood near a drop-off with no idea how deep the black hole might be.
Had the bird been herding her in this direction?
Clenching her hands, she stood firm, ready to fight.
A sharp whistle streaked through the air.
The bird canted its head and turned in the direction of the sound. Then it took a hop and lifted off, flying so close to her as it passed that the wind blew her hair.
Was that vulture answering to a whistle?
She considered taking off running again, but she’d need to use her flashlight this time. That beacon would make tracking her very easy.
No, she’d stay right here for a few moments and hope the vulture had taken that whistle to mean something better than her for dinner.
Who would whistle for a ginormous vulture though?
A movement above her head drew her gaze up to where giant wings far larger than the vulture’s carried a massive black silhouette, which dropped slowly to the ground and landed in almost the same spot the vulture had.
She had to bend her head back to take in the silver-gray dragon head and brilliant blue eyes glowing with black vertical slits.
In the next moment, power flushed around her.
She grinned and drew a breath of relief, rushing forward.
Herrick appeared in human form, wearing his usual leather clothing and fur vest. He opened his arms and caught her to him, his thick beard tickling her face. All her fears fled in the protection of the person she called father even though she wasn’t his child. She had been no one’s child, but he raised her and the Luigsechs had taught her all they knew of the dragon families.
His deep voice normally soothed her, but not the words he spoke this time. “You should not have come.”
Her heart hit her feet. How could Herrick not be happy to see her after ten years apart? Written messages had kept her close, but it was nothing like visiting in person.
She pulled out of his arms, exhausted from traveling nonstop to get here as fast as she could. “I don’t understand.”
Eyes still a bright blue even in human form, he said, “You risk bringin’ the enemy to our door.”
How could he think that? “I have not even told you why I’m here yet. What makes you think an enemy knows where I am?”
“They do not yet, but the seer told me you were comin’ and Shannon’s sword is active. The seer believes an enemy came to you, but she could not see the enemy once you struck out to travel here.”
Casidhe thanked the dark for shielding any sign of disappointment washing over her from being chastised. She had only the family’s best interest at heart and had never been careless. That seer had never liked Casidhe. Herrick needed to hear her out first.
Glancing around, she could see little in the moonless night besides the white beak tip of the vulture that had returned to stand near Herrick.
Keeping her tone even to hide the hurt, she spoke the words she’d been taught to use to indicate they should talk privately. “We should be speakin’ in a quiet place.”
Herrick’s eyebrows lifted at that.
Really? Hadn’t he just acted as if she’d brought the grim reaper with her? She rubbed the scratched skin and wiped grit from her face, anxious to hike to the castle and end this day. At least she wouldn’t have to fight off any other attacks with a dragon shifter and overgrown vulture nearby.
Herrick seemed to just now take in her condition. “Did you fall?”
That sounded as if she were a klutz.
Sending a glare to the vulture, she mumbled sarcastically, “Your pet found chasin’ after me entertainin’.”
“Stian? No, he meant only to determine if you were an interloper.”
“Stian?” she pushed out between clenched teeth.
Nodding at the vulture, Herrick said, “He is a griffon vulture from the Himalayas. I befriended him.”
Sounded as if the vulture had taken her spot. “Well, it sure felt like he hunted me for dinner.”
Herrick spoke to the bird in Gaelic and the vulture lifted its head, making a chortle sound.
Smiling like a proud father, Herrick’s gaze returned to Casidhe. “Stian’s favorite meal is carrion.”
“So he would not attack a live bein’?”
“Oh, he would. I have trained him for eight years. He is unlike other griffon vultures. In fact, he is the alpha among those he convinced to follow him here.”
No wonder the bird had a cocky attitude. She studied the tall profile. “Is he entirely natural?”
Herrick reminded her, “Did you not say you’d like a quiet place to speak?”
In other words, he didn’t want to discuss the bird being natural, or not, out here. “That I did.”
Staring off for a moment as if sorting through his thoughts, Herrick turned to her. “You have traveled far. Your trip to the castle shall be short.”
All the sting and hurt she’d suffered fled under what she hoped he was saying. She smiled in anticipation. “Does that mean what I’m thinkin’ it means?”
“It does.” Herrick stepped back ten steps and called up his dragon. He could speak in this form as well and said, “Hold your arms out in front of you so I may grasp you easily.”
“I remember.” She’d rather ride on his back, but held her arms out.
Any dragon ride beat walking.
His dragon lifted off with Stian right behind him like a fighter pilot behind a larger aircraft. She didn’t turn to watch as Herrick’s dragon flew high then around, because remaining still was crucial to not being nicked or gouged by his dragon’s sharp claws.
The sound of wings beating as he completed a wide arc and now on approach from behind to grab Casidhe kicked her pulse into high gear.
One moment she stood on the ground and the next she was yanked up, backpack and all. His dragon climbed quickly to soar over the mountains. Wind buffeted her face and hands.
She laughed wildly for the first time in too long.
Her partner at the County Galway Families Centre, Fenella, always warned Casidhe she was missing out on her life by putting off living it.
Casidhe would always place duty ahead of fun.
But this, flying with a dragon, counted as living her life.
She wrapped her fingers around thick toes, marveling at how tough and hard they were to be holding her so gently. For this one moment in time, she soaked up peace and happiness.
But Herrick’s words indicated that would not last long.
Too soon, the flight ended as his dragon circled a black pit below she held no fear of dropping into.
She’d seen this from the air before.
He descended slowly for her benefit. He’d always cautioned her not to assume, even with her gifts, that her body could sustain the abuse his immortal body could accept. When they passed through the ward he’d placed over this area thousands of years ago, the energy tingled across her skin and lights came into view below.
Her
rick’s dragon made a slow pass close to the ground.
Ready for him when he released her, she jumped down. Momentum carried her backwards several feet until she had her footing.
The village he’d built two thousand years ago was home to around fifty to sixty people at any given time, the majority from Fenella’s family. All human except Herrick and whatever the seer considered herself.
Herrick had provided for every generation, sending their young to universities just as he had with Casidhe. That replenished the secret group of humans in this part of the world who provided outside support when needed.
Many went on to live along the route Casidhe had used for the last two days to reach the northern Caucasus. Some of the same people shuttled cryptic messages to Herrick sent by Fenella.
He sent few messages back. Casidhe treasured every one of them.
Some of the castle villagers paused while cooking over fires to wave a hand and smile.
The fresh mountain air held aromas of foods she’d missed.
People of different ages visited in groups of three or more. Five children ranging from two to eight in age chased a pair of auburn Mastiff pups while the mother watched from where she stretched out near a hut. Casidhe didn’t think Herrick had found the Mastiffs locally either, but he could travel a long distance at night in his dragon form.
Not everyone smiled when Stian landed, but the bird appeared to suffer no bruised feelings.
Anyone loyal to Herrick would be welcome here.
Right behind Stian, Herrick’s beautiful dragon set down, taking two steps. He shifted to his human form, clothed again and grinning at everyone. He shouted, “Casidhe is back.”
They cheered and the sound of being missed smoothed away dents in her ego. These were her people as much as those in County Galway where she’d built a reputation at the archival research centre of being able to find and translate any historical information.
Her first duty would always be to protect Herrick and every member of his extended family, which included the Luigsech squire family and Fenella of the Connell squire family.
She doubted she’d have to include that scary vulture in her protection.
Herrick waved her over as he turned for the castle.
She hurried to fall into step with him.
Lights from torches, campfires, and candles allowed for moving around at ease since darkness fell here just as it did outside the ward. While some villagers lived inside the castle built by his father’s ancestors, others happily resided in structures they’d constructed or moved into when empty.
Herrick had the castle as his residence. In truth, he slept behind the castle in a cave deep into the mountain the castle had been built against. She’d never been in that area. He’d told her long ago that dragons needed a lair of some sort, somewhere private. All dragons might not have required a mountain lair, but a place to rest without fear of attack.
She stared in awe at the shimmering blue-silver iridescent structure that rose a hundred feet in the air.
An ice castle for an ice dragon.
The fires and torches were only for the villagers, to give them a sense of home and comfort in this remote spot. His dragon was at home in the dark as he was with light.
Herrick had made this home even though he’d lived in ancient Ireland long ago.
He’d lost his family and lands, barely surviving himself to reach this destination.
For every day she’d known him, he had one goal. To find his brother again. He believed out of his five dragon siblings, Skarde had been the only one to survive. His father’s castle in Ireland had fallen during the Dragani War. His three sisters died brutal deaths.
He would not let go of the belief his brother lived.
Casidhe tried to be encouraging every time she came up with any piece of history not given to her in verbal form, but she had serious doubts.
Why hadn’t Skarde contacted Herrick in thousands of years? Searching for Skarde topped all her duties, but she had no idea where to hunt for a dragon.
Still, she remained alert to any possible lead. She would dearly love to hand Herrick what he wished for most.
He walked her through the central yard leading to the castle steps. Fenella said her grandmother had loved growing flowers, herbs, and trees here. Someone clearly continued that hobby as her grandmother had passed in her sleep right after Casidhe had left ten years back.
At the tall pair of stone and glass doors carved with an image of a fierce dragon in each side, Herrick pulled one open for her to enter. Inside the castle, a woman serving food called out, “Casidhe! ’Tis good to see ya.”
Casidhe waved and would remember the woman’s name, but it escaped her at the moment.
“You’re back,” shouted at her from another direction.
She flicked her gaze around and smiled at the elderly man tending a fire at the hearth. “Hello, Mick. How’s your daughter?”
“Quite fine. Kind of you to be askin’.”
She cherished every single person here.
To lose an arm would be less painful than losing anyone of these people, starting with Herrick.
That’s why his first words upon seeing her had hurt.
She reminded herself that he could be surly at times and let it go.
He walked her over to a seat on his right at the long table in the great hall. The dining table had been created for when his parents had a large family.
He still had a good sized family, just not of his blood.
She unlatched the backpack she had customized for carrying the sword long before she had any idea this day would come.
Herrick had taught her so much from childhood on. She’d missed him while waiting to return.
She could forgive his gruff attitude when she considered how long Herrick had spent without even his brother. Her heart ached at all he’d lost because of one greedy dragon.
Immortality could be a curse if you were forced to outlive everyone you loved. She doubted she could spend eternity without her family.
She had no idea how long she would live or where her strange gifts originated. He told her he’d taken her in as he had others along the way when he found her with no family, but wouldn’t speculate on her powers.
To be honest, she’d only been able to read some very old passages as a child that no one else could at first. As the years passed, she’d begun to realize she could run her fingers over ancient script and see the words come to life completely translated.
She’d like to claim a new power with the sword coming to her, but not when she couldn’t remove that blade from the sheath.
It had been like carrying a stranger on her back.
The woman who first called to her inside the castle now walked up to place steaming plates in front of them. Lobio soup made from beans in one bowl. Her mouth watered over fresh-made khinkali in another bowl. She loved the twisted dumplings filled with meat and seasoned with spices that always brought her home mentally.
“Smells wonderful, Shauna.” Casidhe smiled when the succulent smell brought the woman’s name to mind. “I have missed this dish.”
“Take the recipe back with ya.”
Casidhe waved her off. “I don’t have time to cook anythin’ but basics.”
“You will when ya take a mate.”
“That is not in my immediate future.” Not any future she could imagine. Not until she could give Herrick absolute proof of his brother’s existence, or passing.
Herrick had his heart set that Skarde still lived.
How could that be after all this time even if he was an immortal dragon? They could speak telepathically from long distances and he’d never heard a word from Skarde. For years, Herrick flew away for a day at a time, calling to his brother. It had broken her heart as she’d grown up seeing his downcast face upon return.
After chowing down until she’d had her fill, Casidhe thanked Shauna again. So nice of the woman to wait on her as if she were royalty when Casidhe was f
ar from it. At nineteen, she’d told Herrick she couldn’t wait to go to the archival centre and see if she could track down the name of the woman who birthed her.
He’d immediately shut that down, warning she could open a door to exposing the family. She’d let it go.
Easing back in a broad chair built for an ancestor his size, Herrick asked, “Now talk to me, child.”
She had turned twenty-nine this past year, but he would always call her child. She didn’t mind. In reply, Casidhe got up and pulled her backpack over so she could unzip the hidden pocket that laid against her body.
She lifted out the sheath and placed it on the table where dishes had been cleared away.
Herrick became very still. His fingers closed and opened where he gripped the chair arms. He stood and reached over with a hand hovering above the hilt.
Humming from the weapon increased.
Casidhe felt the stillness in the room and turned to find everyone present watching in awe.
Lifting his hand to his mouth, Herrick’s gaze moved to her.
She explained, “Two beings, a man and woman, visited the ancestral research centre while I was out of sight, but close enough to hear them. I have a spot for observin’ when Fenella speaks to anyone so that I may know she is safe. The man asked Fenella to research a family. His power felt ... old. Like yours. He called himself Cavan, but I believe he lied. The woman did not give her name, but I felt her energy, too.”
Lowering his hand, Herrick asked, “What research did he request?”
“On the Treoir family. He did not bring an artifact of any sort and claimed he came in place of a family member. That could also be a lie.”
“Treoir?”
“Yes. That’s why I had to come to you. I was not sure until I went to my secret location for this sword and ... ” She paused to draw in a breath. “I called Lann an Cheartais to me and it came, but now it refuses to leave the sheath.”
“Lann an Cheartais will bond with you when it believes in your cause and in you.”
She stared openmouthed in disbelief. What greater cause was there than to take up the weapon to protect her family? She fought to beat down yet another wave of frustration.
What had she gotten wrong? He’d said to let him know immediately if the sword came to life or if someone powerful visited the archival centre.