Dragon’s Secret: Red Planet Dragons of Tajss Book Fourteen

by Martin, Miranda

  Not for hours.

  Just grows inside me, almost a separate entity. I'm so on the knife's edge that I have to grit my teeth just to stay there and continue to act like nothing is wrong.

  "Duck!" My head jerks up at Zoe's little-girl voice calling out to me, the tone urgent. She shouldn't be here, not this far out from safety! I glance around quickly, trying to spot her, but she's nowhere to be found. More importantly, nobody else seems to be alarmed. They’re continuing to search the sand around us for meteorite glass. I go still as I watch them and realize the voice wasn't physical. I felt it more than I heard it with my ears.

  I go through that thought process within a split second before I decide to just listen to the damn voice. Things have been too weird lately for me not to give some credence to it. And what if something terrible happens if I ignore it?

  I reach out for Padraig who is only a couple of steps to the side.

  "Get down!" I order.

  When I grip his arm tightly, gesturing with my other hand, he looks over, his gaze alert. He isn't trying to ignore me now. He simply crouches without argument.

  "You guys! Duck! Get down!" I yell urgently as I follow my own instructions.

  "What?"

  "Why?"

  "What's going on?"

  But even though everyone's asking questions, they comply with my order too, trusting that I know something they don't.

  We’re down just in time to avoid being hit by the first bolts from the invaders’ stunning weapons, the crackle of sound raising the hair on the back of my neck.

  If we'd all been standing, we would have been laid out on the ground right now. Defenseless.

  I shiver at that realization.

  Padraig looks up at the bolts from the alien attacker's weapons and then back down at me, his eyes wide.

  "How did you—"

  Before he can finish the question, he's cut off by the onslaught of more fire from over the dune.

  "Create a barrier!" Padraig shouts above the din.

  The Zmaj instantly jump into action.

  Padraig, Ragnar, and Arawn immediately start moving, staying low to avoid being hit by enemy fire as they form a shielding line around the women with their bodies. I stay in the center with the other women as the Zmaj scan the area to locate the threat.

  It is not as simple as tracking the origin of fire—it seems to come from multiple directions all at once.

  While all of us are scanning the dunes around our position, trying to discern where they actually are, I see movement to the right.

  The distinctive silhouette of a Zmaj warrior appears at the top of another dune. It’s unexpected enough to be eye-catching since our group is all together.

  But then I look closer...

  My breath catches.

  I recognize him.

  And not because he's one of the Tribe, or because I've met him before. No. I recognize the handsome face, the orange red scales, from the vision Zoe gave me. He's the same Zmaj who's drawing still burns a hole in my pocket.

  I can't help but stare. He's the most gorgeous person I've ever seen. I thought maybe I believed he was so stunning before because he was a dream, because he wasn't real. But now that I'm faced with the reality of him.... Even in the middle of the danger, my heart skips a beat.

  His golden eyes scan the area, our tightly gathered group. If he's surprised at the sight of us, he doesn't show it, maybe because he's too busy with other concerns.

  "Prepare!" he yells at us. "They are coming!"

  After the quick warning, he turns his back to us, spinning his lochaber in a deadly arc as the first line of invaders rushes up.

  He tears into the group, the Zmaj around us leaping forward to join with battle cries, their wings flaring, their tails whipping out behind them, the sunlight glinting off their lochabers as they swing the sharp-bladed staffs.

  "Back to back!" Penelope yells.

  Me and the other women immediately follow the order, forming a circle with our backs to each other, holding out our shock sticks for protection. The long, club-like sticks have metal prongs at the ends. With meteorite glass inserted into each one to power it, they can create a shock that will stun a creature about the size of a human, but also cause a good amount of pain for anything larger.

  None of us are anywhere near as good at hand-to-hand combat as the Zmaj, but with the shock sticks helping, we can at least try to protect ourselves. That is definitely a step up from where we were before, when we had no weapons at all.

  But the invaders never make it to us, even though we stand at the ready.

  The Zmaj move powerfully, lopping off heads with their lochaber blades, using the blunt ends to pummel and to keep some distance when they need to, shoving attackers back. They move fast, using their wings to leap into the air and travel over a crowd, and to gain leverage when they need to.

  All of them are an impressive sight. But even with all of them fighting, I can't take my eyes off of the mysterious Zmaj for long.

  The wind blows my hair every which way over my face, and I struggle to hold it back with my hand along with the others beside me, squinting to avoid the sand getting into my already-burning eyes.

  Through it all, my eyes remain trained on the new Zmaj. All of the Zmaj warriors are good, but he's better. I can see that even with my untrained eye.

  He moves smoothly, his muscles strong and lean, the purposeful, powerful way he fights reminding me of the elegant wildcats I used to fawn over in the ship documentaries. Powerful, elegant, and above all, dangerous.

  I've never had this kind of reaction to anyone. Not to any of the human men on the ship. Not to any of the Zmaj here on Tajss. I watch the muscle ripple across his back as he deals a particularly deadly blow, his clenching thigh muscles straining for purchase along the sand.

  I swallow, feeling a rush of heat. Maybe I even swoon a little on the inside. Not that I'd ever admit it, of course.

  Who the hell is that?

  4

  Archion

  I look down at the scattered corpses of the invaders. The odd brown armor they wear is not enough to protect them from the combined forces of this many Zmaj warriors, even ones not as well trained as those of the Order.

  I can feel the thinly tethered bijass of the other Zmaj as I kick over one of the corpses and crouch down to inspect it more closely.

  I have sworn secrecy to the Order. I can handle the distrust of these dragons. They owe me their lives in any case. They know that. Without me, there was more than a fair chance the invaders may have won.

  As I rifle through the hidden pockets of the invaders' uniforms, I sense the others doing the same with the other bodies. I do not find anything worthwhile, coming away only with items of little use. Not all of which I recognize. But I have seen enough from that quick search. There is nothing here that will be helpful or useful to us.

  I stand once more, looking over the Zmaj beside me before my eye travels over to the grouping of females. My instincts did not lie, though they did not tell me the whole story.

  They are not Zmaj, clearly as alien as these invaders I am more familiar with. Their coloring varies, as does their height and overall size, but it is still clear they are all of the same race. My eyes drift back to a delicate-looking one with hair of a shiny brown, cut to frame her soft face. She is...arresting. I want to keep looking at her, but I force myself to look away lest I ignite more aggression from the others.

  "We should push on," I announce. "If there are others in the area it is best to keep moving."

  The Zmaj male with the particularly large arms bristles, taking a step towards me.

  "You do not give us orders," he snarls in a low voice, obviously not taking kindly to my suggestion. "I am in command here."

  I turn to face him, seeing his threatening stance. I do not want to escalate this.

  "I do not mean to take your command," I respond in a neutral voice. "But I do not take well to threats."

  His large fists c
lench at his sides.

  I adjust my stance, ready for an attack. It would be unfortunate after offering my aid, but I will finish any fight they begin.

  The female that my eye was drawn to her earlier takes a step towards us.

  "You guys, stop! We're all friends here." Her voice is just as lovely as the rest of her.

  But neither of us backs down at her attempt at an intervention.

  Another Zmaj growls at me, his brilliant blue eyes narrowed. "Watch yourself," he warns.

  "If you think I have let my guard down, you are quite mistaken," I say in a low voice.

  My hands grip my lochaber a little tighter as I try to keep my eye on both of them. I will not be taken unawares. If they think me easy prey, they will find themselves sorely mistaken.

  But before the tension comes to actual blows, another one of their group shifts to stand between us. A Zmaj. I meet his eyes, his red and orange scales a brighter version of my own.

  "I think you should return with us to share what you know with the Elders of our Tribe," he says with a much more measured tone than the rest have been using.

  I do not let my guard down though I do nod slightly. I would rather not fight, but I have no intention of revealing information to their Elders or anyone else. Still, I need to learn more of this group, so I do not refuse.

  "I would be honored," I say, inclining my had respectfully. "It has been several weeks since I have enjoyed a hot meal." That much is true.

  "Good. We can provide that much for you, especially after your help." He looks over at the first Zmaj, the one who seemed fully ready to fight. Their eyes meet, something passing between them.

  With a curt nod, he steps back. "We should return home," he agrees roughly, turning away.

  And so it is decided. Not that this means I have been accepted into their group.

  The travel back to their home is not a comfortable one. I know everyone is looking upon me with suspicion.

  I listen closely as we travel, attempting to absorb as much information as I can from the conversations they have among themselves. I learn the one in charge is named Padraig, that the aggressive one with the blue eyes is named Ragnar, and that the one who finally intervened to calm matters is Arawn.

  I also learn that the woman who I cannot keep my focus off of is named Nora.

  Nora.

  A name as lovely as she is. Her silky brown hair, her soft skin, her feminine curves... All of it make my fingers itch. I want to touch her, experience that softness for myself. Even her voice is soft and somewhat quiet as she speaks with the other females near her.

  She is alluring in a way I have no name for. Special. An unsuspecting treasure.

  One who has no idea how perfect she actually is.

  5

  Nora

  I look over at the stranger again.

  His name is Archion, though that doesn't tell us all that much. Not that it matters. Not to me anyway. I can't even hide how interested I am, my eye going over to him time after time while we travel back towards the Tribe's cave system. I'm consumed with curiosity and attraction.

  He is just so, so...male, in the best way possible. He just oozes masculinity, from the hard muscle that covers his body, to his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Chiseled. That's the word that comes to mind every time I look over at him. And his scales are so pretty, a tinted orange or red that's both subtle and colorful.

  I just can't stop staring. I trace his profile, the sun lovingly highlighting the planes and angles of his countenance, showing off his beautiful skin. It's an even, gleaming brown that my fingertips itch to touch.

  When he looks over, his golden eyes meeting mine, I feel a bolt of heat go through me.

  I force myself to look away, knowing I'm being obvious about my interest but unable to be any other way. I feel the same warm, glittery sensation every time he turns to look at me. Like I want to clench my hands together in front of my chest like a fawning anime schoolgirl. I feel the weight of his gaze still on me, lingering.

  Is he interested in me too?

  Am I just imagining it?

  I don't want to get ahead of myself.

  What are the odds that I run into an available Zmaj and that he's also interested in me? Probably not great. I don't want to set myself up for failure. Not that I seem to be able to help myself.

  But... Isn't this an odd coincidence? I've been ruminating over the possibility of eventual spinsterhood and bam—Tajss drops a possibly available dragon at the group's feet. Dressed as a hero no less—and a hero he is.

  Both because he jumped in to save us and because of his skill. He seemed to know the moves the invaders would make before they ever made them in the battle. He was always in the right place to counter, to attack where the invaders were weak.

  I'm pretty sure that's why Arawn intervened before anyone's bijass could get really out of control. Maybe he was worried how well Padraig would actually hold up in a fight with him. Or maybe he just didn't want to antagonize someone with that much skill if we could use it instead. Maybe he was simply suspicious. I don't know. But I'm so glad the fight didn't happen.

  It was touch and go there for a minute. I wouldn't normally get involved in something like that, not when I can't stand up to any of the Zmaj in a physical confrontation. But something about the stranger had made me step up, pushed me past my normal reservations. Not that it helped, but I'm glad that I tried.

  At this point though, what lies ahead still remains to be seen. Yes, there wasn't an outright fight. However, I'm still not sure how the Elders are going to react to the dragon, veiled in mystery as he is. And as he seems to want to be. He hasn't said much at all while we've been traveling so far. I somehow doubt he's going to suddenly spill the beans once we're home.

  Penelope nudges me with her elbow.

  I look over at her questioningly.

  "You should talk to him," she whispers, jerking her head towards Archion. "Staring isn't enough."

  "I can't do that," I whisper back, blushing. I don't even bother pretending I'm not interested. It wouldn't be true and I know how terrible a poker face I have.

  "Do it—you totally should. What's the worst that can happen?" Fallon chimes in, coming up beside us.

  "They're right," Olivia adds, leaning in. "You should talk to him. How else are you going to find out if you like him or not?"

  I shake my head. They can pressure me all they want, but I'm not a pushover. Maybe I'm quiet, and maybe I'm not the most outgoing, but if I don't want to do something, I'm not going to do it. Yes, I've had slim...well, no pickings. But that doesn't mean I'm desperate.

  Yes, I feel an attraction towards him, but I'm not fool enough to forget that the woman is always the prize, and the man the hunter. Especially with the Zmaj. If he's mine, he'll let me know. He'll come after me.

  That doesn't mean that the wait doesn't make me a little antsy though. I glance over at Archion again. Waiting is actually...delightfully maddening.

  The potential of the situation is enough to have me dreaming of a possible future with a partner like others have, with children. But I find myself carried away with the fantasy, even after I remind myself not to get carried away. We haven't even really had a conversation yet. It's not time to start picking out our children's names. I mentally shake my head at myself. Slow your roll woman. If I—

  "Stay back!" Archion yells from off to the side where he’s been walking.

  My heart clenches as I stumble to a halt with the other women. What's going on now?

  "Shit, what is it?" Fallon mutters, echoing my thought.

  But we find out before we can actually voice the question to him.

  The sand bursts open nearby, releasing a nasty-looking giant earthworm-like creature with scales. But instead of a closed end at the tip, it opens a massive mouth full of sharp, shark-like teeth arranged in concentric circles going down its gullet.

  I stare at it, mouth agape, stomach rolling with fear. Shit. It's a zemlja.

>   Archion doesn't wait for it to do much more than come out of the ground before he's leaping up into the air and slashing at it with his lochaber.

  The thing hisses, spitting at him but missing.

  I take another step back with the other women as we watch the saliva sizzle on the sand. Acid spit. How wonderful.

  Heart beating even faster, I look back up to see that Arawn has joined in the fight, working in tandem with Archion to stab and slash at the creature. Once again, I'm struck by Archion's prowess in battle, the smooth way he moves, like he knows exactly where that thing is going to go before even it does.

  The other Zmaj join the fight and make quick work of the creature without sustaining any injuries. Though I think Archion could have likely done so even just on his own. He's that good.

  In the end, Ragnar distracts it by running tauntingly close. Archion leaps up, swinging the lochaber in such a hard blow that it half chops off the thing's head, leaving it attached but dangling. Eewww.

  The long body jerks, the flesh colored skin glistening in the light as it slowly falls over onto the sand.

  Dead.

  "I don't think I've ever seen anything so disgusting," Fallon mutters.

  I murmur my agreement, staring at the now-lifeless creature.

  "Good fight," Padraig offers with a grin as the Zmaj warriors gather around.

  Archion nods.

  "My thanks for your help," he says.

  I see the other Zmaj warming to Archion now, trust beginning to form. There's no denying he put himself on the line to protect the rest of us.

  "We will take a break," Padraig announces after a few moments. "There are ruins nearby that we can reach quickly. After we rest, drink, and eat, we will continue."

  Sounds good to me. I didn't even do anything and that fight feels like it's taken it out of me.

  I wipe at the sweat on my brow as we turn towards the nearby buildings, dilapidated and obviously ancient. Clearly they’re from before the Devastation, the war that set the Zmaj civilization back so many years.