by Rachel Aaron
“Bethesda did not send me,” he snarled, his thunderous voice echoing across the desert as he crushed Gregory in his grip. “I am here because I am champion, and you, Gregory Heartstriker, have dealt our clan a great offense.”
By the time he finished, Gregory was almost crushed. Even after Conrad let go, he lay limp and panting in the bigger dragon’s palm. When he finally spoke again, though, his voice was loud enough for Marci to actually hear.
“In what way?” he demanded, baring his bloodstained teeth. “I’ve done nothing wrong! I’m just cleaning up the shameful mess everyone else has been too soft to—”
“The only shame here is you,” Conrad snapped, making Gregory jump. “You were granted your position in the Amazon because you were strong, but there is no strength in pummeling an opponent half your size who isn’t fighting back. If you disagree with Julius, that’s between the two of you. Kill him, maim him, betray him. Defeat him however you want, I don’t care, but this…” He looked pointedly down at the smoking crater by their feet. “This is pathetic. There’s no fight here, only shameful, ego-driven drama, and I will tolerate it no longer.”
He spread his wings as he finished, and they were so huge, the tips actually shaded Marci’s head all the way in town. It was a move clearly meant to impress, and from the collective intake of breath in a hundred dragon throats she could hear all the way from the mountain, it was definitely working.
“Your weakness today shames us all,” he boomed, the words so loud they were physically painful. “You have insulted your clan and stained the honor of all who call themselves Heartstrikers. As Knight of the Mountain, First Blade of Bethesda, and Champion of the Heartstriker Dragons, I demand satisfaction.”
Marci wasn’t up on her old-timey dragon chivalry, but the bloodthirsty gleam in Conrad’s glowing green eyes left no question of what kind of satisfaction he wanted. Gregory must have known as well, because he began to thrash in the bigger dragon’s grip like a caught eel.
“It’s not my fault!” he bellowed, whipping his tail frantically. “It was a fair challenge! He’s the one who wouldn’t fight back!”
“That was his choice,” Conrad said coldly. “You had yours as well. You could have slaughtered him and taken what you wanted quickly and with dignity, like a proper dragon. Instead, you decided to drag it out and drag our clan’s good name through the mud in the process as you flopped and flamed and failed your way through this embarrassment of a beating.”
“But I didn’t!” Gregory cried. “I was trying to kill him, but he just wouldn’t die!”
“That makes your situation even worse,” Conrad growled. “We all saw the moment when Julius decided not to run and not to fight. Whether or not that was wise is immaterial. What matters is that even when he was on the edge of death, he did not falter in his resolve. That is determination deserving of merit. You, on the other hand, couldn’t kill a whelp who wasn’t fighting back. That makes you a failure as well as an embarrassment.” He grinned wide, revealing a wall of teeth that glared blindingly white in the midday sun. “Heartstrikers have died for less.”
“But this was all the Heartstriker’s idea!” Gregory said, his blatantly panicked face reflected in Conrad’s glistening fangs for all to see. “Mother’s the one who ordered me to kill Julius and save the clan!”
The accusation rang across the desert like a shot. Knowing what she did about Bethesda, Marci had zero trouble believing it, but Conrad just shrugged. “So what?” he said. “If you did this on Bethesda’s order, that’s just another failure. If you’re lying, then you’ve shamed our mother by dragging her name into your disgrace. Either one is grounds for death.”
“You can’t!” Gregory roared. “I did this for Heartstriker!”
“If this is your idea of helping the clan, I think we’re safer without you,” Conrad said casually. “But stupid and shameful as your actions are today, it is the privilege of the strong to be merciful.”
Terrified as he was, that seemed to throw Gregory into a rage. “Merciful?” he shrieked. “Don’t tell me the pathetic nice dragon is wearing off on you, too!”
Conrad snorted, sending a black cloud of smoke into Gregory’s face. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said as the G began to cough. “You think this started with a whelp like Julius? Chelsie and I have always been merciful. Why do you think any of you are still alive?”
That shut Gregory right up. The whole desert was silent, actually. Even the dragons watching from the shadows of the mountain had gone still, leaving hundreds of wide, unblinking green eyes staring silently across the sand.
“As I was saying,” Conrad continued, “it is the privilege of the strong to show mercy, and since you have been a strong asset to the clan for many years in South America, I have decided to offer you a choice in your death. You can either fight me now and die with honor as, per your own words, a dragon should, or you can run away and live the rest of your life as a coward. Either way, your time as a Heartstriker ends now. You have already left the clan. If you fight me now, your status will be posthumously restored, and your corpse will be burned as a Heartstriker. If you run, though, your defection becomes banishment. Your name shall be stricken from our ranks, and every dragon who meets you from this day forward will know you only as a failure and an outcast. If you set foot on Heartstriker lands again, you will be killed as swiftly as any other trespasser. So tell me, Gregory No-Longer-Heartstriker, which death do you prefer? Your life, or your pride and status as a dragon? Either way, you’ll be dead to us forever, but such is the price of betraying your clan.”
By the time he finished, it was clear Conrad was no longer speaking just to Gregory. The last sentence especially was directed at the dragons watching from inside the mountain. But even though the champion was no longer looking at him, Gregory had already gone limp in Conrad’s claws. For a moment, Marci thought for sure that he was going to save his brother the trouble and slit his own throat on the champion’s cargo-container-sized claws. But then, just as Conrad was turning back to finish him, the orange dragon burst into motion, his long body moving like a striking snake as he leaped into the air and flew away as fast as his wings would carry him.
Conrad watched him go with a look of supreme disappointment before turning to address the mountain. “He has made his choice,” he announced, his voice echoing off the stone. “From this day forward, Gregory is banished. Any with vendettas or debts still standing against him may pursue those on their own time, but his life as a Heartstriker is finished. Any dragon who has a problem with that can take it up with me.”
He paused, letting the threat hang in the air, but nothing in the mountain moved. When it was clear no one was going to challenge him, Conrad folded his wings and crouched down. When he straightened up again, he was holding a small, blackened heap of once-blue feathers. It was so mangled, Marci didn’t even recognize the sad little pile as Julius until Conrad took off, cradling his broken brother against the smooth, bone-white chest piece of his armor as his enormous wings carried them both back to the mountain.
“Will he be okay?” she whispered, clenching her hands so tight, her nails bit painfully into her palms.
“Give him some credit,” Bob chided, grinning wide. “He might be a sorry excuse for one, but Julius is still a dragon. We can heal from pretty much anything that doesn’t kill us outright. A little rest and food and he’ll be back to his insufferable niceness in no time. The only difference is now that Conrad’s so clearly on his side, the rest of the family might actually listen.”
He rubbed his hands together like that was the entire point, but Marci just felt sick to her stomach. All she wanted to do was get back to Julius as fast as possible, before any other disasters struck. She was turning to go do just that when Bob’s arm snaked around her neck.
“Not just yet,” he whispered, squeezing her into a gentle but inescapable choke hold. “I’ll let you go in a moment. First, though, we have to say hello to our guests.”
For
a confused moment, Marci had no idea what he was doing. When he turned her around, though, she saw it. She’d been so caught up in the dragon drama, she’d completely forgotten about the UN team. But they must have heard the commotion and come running, because Sir Myron and the general were now both standing in the center of the parking lot just a few feet away.
In hindsight, Marci wondered what had taken them so long. The fight hadn’t been more than five minutes total, but surely that was more than enough time to run out of a diner? Then again, though, maybe they’d been there for a while and simply stayed quiet, because while neither of them looked afraid, they were both staring at Bob like he was the end boss of the most sadistic game ever invented.
“Emily!” Bob cried cheerfully, waving at her with the hand he wasn’t using to keep Marci pinned. “Long time no see. How’s the new arm?”
“Upgraded since the last time we met, Brohomir,” the general replied flatly, lifting her seemingly empty, gloved hand so that it was pointed palm out at the seer. “Step away from the Merlin.”
Bob grinned and pulled Marci closer. “Just laying it right out, I see. Not even going to play at secrets?”
General Jackson shrugged. “No point in lying to a seer. But since you know what she is, you should also know that Marci Novalli is now under the UN’s protection.”
“And that’s why you’re pointing your cannon at her?” Bob said, arching an eyebrow at the general’s open palm, which still looked empty to Marci. “Do you understand how protection works?”
“We have that covered,” Sir Myron said, spreading his own hands to show Bob his glowing rings. It wasn’t until he moved them, though, that Marci realized the parking lot around her and Bob was covered with spellwork. She had no idea when he’d had time to lay it all down. She didn’t even know what the spell was meant to do since she couldn’t make heads or tails of Myron’s maze-like symbols. Whatever they were for, though, the chalk markings on the pavement were humming like high-voltage power cables. Even Bob looked impressed, if only a little.
“The Master of Labyrinths lives up to his name,” he said, glancing down at Marci. “Seems like you’re attracting all the A-listers these days, and I don’t just mean Amelia.” He chuckled. “Julius is going to have to up his game.”
Before Marci could think of how to reply to that one, Bob turned back to the general. “The only thing missing now is your charming pet. Where is the little miscreant? Hovering over my head with an anvil?”
“I’d never be so gauche,” Raven said, appearing from nowhere to land on Emily’s shoulder. “If I wanted to kill you, Brohomir, I’d drop a tip to Algonquin and let her take it from there. But we have no quarrel with you or your insanity. We’re just here for the girl, so if you’ll kindly…” The spirit’s croaking voice faltered as his black eyes went wide. “What is that?” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” Marci asked, craning her head back to look up at the dragon. “It’s just Bob.”
“Just Bob?” the seer said, looking terminally insulted, but Raven was shaking his head.
“Not the dragon.”
“Now I’m ‘the dragon’?!” Bob cried, glaring daggers at the bird. “You’re crushing my ego, which is a dangerous thing to do. You don’t want to make me have to show off.”
“Would you shut up?” Raven snapped, his angry voice suddenly far too big for his feathered body. “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about that.”
He bobbed his head, pointing his beak not at the dragon, but behind him at the pigeon who was still sitting on the hood of Bob’s car, who’d been silently watching everything unfold.
“What is that?” Raven asked again, his still-too-big voice growing deadly as his beady eyes slid back to Bob. “What have you done, dragon?”
“Why do you bother to ask?” Bob said, dropping the insulted act as quickly as he’d picked it up. “You already know.” He held out his hand, and the pigeon fluttered to him, perching on his fingers with a coo, making Raven flinch back with an angry caw.
“Are you actually crazy?” the spirit cried. “Even I don’t play games with stakes that high! What possessed you to bring that...that thing here?”
“Careful,” Bob warned, lifting his pigeon to press a delicate kiss to her feathered head. “You’ll hurt her feelings. And I invited her here for the same reason I do everything.” His thin lips curled in a deadly and very un-Bob-like smile. “To help me win.”
“Wait,” Marci said, confused. “Are we still talking about Bob’s pigeon?”
“That is no pigeon,” Raven said, his black eyes flashing. “That is a Nameless End.”
The way he said that made Marci shiver from head to toes, and from the look on the UN team’s faces, she wasn’t alone.
“What does that mean?” the general demanded, glaring at the spirit on her shoulder.
“It means we need to get out of here,” Raven said, talons tightening. “Right now.”
“No need for that,” Bob said cheerfully. “My lady love and I were actually just leaving. We have a very busy schedule of cryptic proclamations and appearing where we’re least expected to get back to. But before we go, I have one final word of advice for Marci ‘the Merlin’ Novalli.”
Marci winced inwardly. Here they went again. “Is it going to make sense this time?”
“It’s very simple,” Bob said as he released his hold on her neck. “Even a mortal can do it.”
“Okay,” Marci said, turning around to face the dragon. “What is it?”
Instead of answering, the seer walked back to his car, placing his pigeon on the dashboard as he dropped into the leather bench seat and cranked the ancient engine. When it finally sputtered to life, he backed out, forcing them all to step out of the way as the giant Buick rolled backwards and turned around. When he was aimed at the parking lot’s exit, Bob stopped the car and rolled down the passenger window, motioning for Marci to come closer.
Shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all, Marci obeyed, walking over to stand beside him. This was apparently not close enough, though, because Bob kept waving, beckoning her closer and closer until she was leaned over with her head practically inside the car’s window.
“What?” she growled.
The seer smiled wide. “Duck.”
She jerked back in surprise, but Bob was already peeling away, squealing his tires as he floored it out of the parking lot just in time before the wave of dragon fire crashed down.
***
After that, everything happened at once.
Marci had barely had time to move, let alone duck. She hadn’t even fully registered the heat of the explosion blasting down from above her head before the flames were washing over her. But just as the shock of the light and heat was hitting her brain, they both vanished as suddenly as they’d appeared, replaced by an equally intense wave of grave-cold dark.
Like everything else, the change happened so suddenly, Marci didn’t even get to the point of trying to guess what was going on. She just looked up, eyes wide, and stared.
Just as when Conrad had flown overhead, the entire diner parking lot was thrown into shadow, but this time, it wasn’t because of a dragon. On the other side of the street, the bright desert sun was still beating down, but not on her. It was as though night had fallen just on this one particular corner of the parking lot, and standing at its center was the Empty Wind, his hand raised like a shield above Marci’s head.
That was close.
“Tell me about it,” Marci muttered, looking around at what appeared to be their private bubble of dark. “What happened? Where’s everyone else?”
I could not take them to this place, the spirit said, the glowing blue eyes narrowing inside the empty dark of his helmet like he was furrowing his unseen brows. I’m not even sure how I got you here, but we cannot stay.
“Why not?” Marci said, looking around at the bubble of night with growing excitement. “This is incredible! Did we jump planes or something?”
“Oh no,” Marci said, grabbing his freezing body. “No, no, no. Stay with me!”
But the spirit was already fading, vanishing before her eyes as the hot sunlight began to creep back in. I’m sorry, Marci, he whispered, slumping to his knees. I pushed too far.
“It’s okay,” she said, going down with him. “We’ll fix it. Just tell me how.”
The fading spirit shook his head. I don’t know. I don’t know where to go. I just…I need… He looked up, his glowing eyes pleading inside the empty helmet. Don’t leave me alone. We are all alone and forgotten here. You’re all I have. Please, don’t go.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Marci promised, grabbing his freezing hand with both of hers. “I told you already, I will never leave you alone, but the same goes for you.” She gripped him tighter. “We’re going to get you fixed up, Ghost. Just stay with me!”
She reached inside as she spoke, grabbing as much of Amelia’s fire as she dared and shoving it down their connection. His body got a little firmer as the fresh burst of magic hit him, but it was still nowhere near enough. Close as they were right now, Marci could feel the intense dragon magic—enough concentrated power to fund a month’s worth of her normal spells—fall into Ghost and vanish like a pebble down a well. And it was at that moment, when that huge pulse of magic disappeared into the Empty Wind like it was nothing, that Marci finally understood just how big her Mortal Spirit was, and what she was going to have to do to save him.
Yes, Ghost whispered, reading the answer in her mind. That’s it. He shrank as he spoke, his soldier’s body collapsing until he was once again a small cat that fit into the crook of her arms. Take us home.
“That’s where we’re headed,” Marci said, clutching the cat against her chest as the unnatural darkness lifted. “I’ve got you, and I’m going to keep you. You’ll never be alone again.”