You are weak, dragon. Your resistance is meaningless. I am your master now and always. Give in and take the female. Rut her, release your seed.
“I will not give in. I will not harm my mate,” Falthyris growled. He turned away from the comet and laid Elliya on the cave floor, placing her bag beside her. The Heat crackled across his back.
What difference did it make if she was sick? She still had a slit, and he needed release, needed to vent some of this Heat, this pressure. She wouldn’t care.
Baring his clenched teeth, Falthyris shook his head sharply. He spun toward the comet again, spread his wings, and leapt into the open air. He unleashed all his fury at the comet in a roar that created a landslide in the scree below him and echoed off the surrounding hills and canyons, cleaving the heavens like ten thousand peals of thunder booming all at once.
And he poured all that rage, all that defiant fury, all that fear, into his heartfire, willing it to swell into an inferno, willing it to consume him—willing it to change him.
The explosion of pain he’d expected came and went in an instant, as brief and intense as a bolt of lightning. The change seemed to be coming quicker and easier each time, but he did not pause to reflect upon that as he landed in his dragon form.
He could fly faster in this shape, could carry her with greater ease—and that was all that mattered. All for her.
Falthyris turned back to the cave and climbed the slope. The Red Heat lashed against his scales furiously, demanding he cede to it, but he ignored it. If Dragonsbane spoke again, Falthyris did not listen.
He reached forward and delicately scooped up his little mate, cradling her body in his talons. He hooked the strap of her bag over one claw. Without another glance at the comet, Falthyris shoved himself into the air with his hind legs and took flight, shifting Elliya into a two-handed hold to better support her.
All he knew of her people was that they lived on a cliffside somewhere to the south, in the region where the desert and mountains met each other. She’d left her home the night the comet had appeared and found him only a few days later.
It couldn’t be far.
Elliya was frighteningly still as he sped through the sky. He kept his eyes moving, scanning the rocky landscape for any sign of a human settlement—light and smoke were usually the most obvious—all while trying not to acknowledge the fear fluttering in his chest, the desperation coursing through his limbs, the Red Heat insistently scratching at his scales and clawing at his mind.
Creatures made their calls and flitted across the ground below, some in terror but most in aggressive, lustful heat, driven by weeks of the comet’s curse raining down on the world.
Falthyris’s racing heart was the only measure of time he was aware of, frantic but steady, louder than his flapping wings and the wind rushing around him. If only he could hear hers, too. If only he could have that small assurance that she was still here, that she was still with him, that she was still fighting.
“Stay with me,” he growled, his heartfire surging and nearly forcing flames out of his throat.
He did not know how long or how far he’d flown when he finally spotted something in the distance—a faint crimson glow cast on bare stone. His heartbeat stuttered; it was likely nothing more than something reflecting the light of the red-stained moon, but it was the first thing to break up the more uniform colors of the land below since he’d left.
It was a spark of hope, and he clung to it.
Falthyris flew toward that splash of color, pushing himself faster, harder, beyond the limits he’d already reached. As he neared the glow, its nature became apparent—it was water, but the light was not reflected. The small pool, seated in a box canyon, was emitting its own glow independent of the moon and stars. It was ringed with flowering vegetation.
A word, a name, echoed in the back of his mind, uttered in Elliya’s voice—Cetolea.
Falthyris tilted into a wide turn, banking around to face the cliffs head-on, scanning them for any signs of life, of light, of humans.
The land around the glowing pool was broken into tiered cliffs and towering rock formations that were sprinkled with lush greenery. Some of those plants had open blossoms on them, petals turned toward the moon—they were too fragile to withstand the desert sun. That fragility reminded him too much of his Elliya. She was his flower, so beautiful, so fragrant and sweet, so precious, so…
No. She was not delicate. She would not wilt beneath the sunlight, nor beneath the light of the red comet.
His eyes caught on something behind the pool—a set of worn steps carved into the cliffside. The path leading away from those steps at the top of the cliff was obvious as soon as his gaze fell upon it, as were the pair of humans standing guard beside it. He followed the path with his gaze; it snaked along the wall of another cliff, moving toward a narrower canyon farther on.
He glimpsed a faint flicker of orange on that cliffside. His eyes widened, and he altered his flight path to allow himself a better viewing angle of the cliff face.
There were numerous holes bored into the side of the cliff, most of which were just large enough for a human to pass through, all connected by carved walkways and steps. Several of those holes were illuminated from within by the dancing orange glows of small fires.
Falthyris flicked out his tongue. The smell of smoke was faint but undeniable on the air, but he detected other smells associated with humans, too—hides being cured, meat roasting, a hint of crushed herbs, which seemed far more pungent than when the plants were left whole.
That was Elliya’s village, the home of her tribe. The home she wanted him to share.
And now he could see more of the humans—all female, armed with spears, posted near the chokepoints that led to their dwellings. He only counted four more beyond that first pair, and he supposed that was for the best. He could handle a few humans.
As though in response to that thought, Elliya seemed suddenly just a bit heavier in his hand.
I can handle these other humans, at least.
A thousand possible approaches to this first encounter with her people flitted through his mind, followed by twice as many potential outcomes. It was impossible to guess how these humans would react to him or whether they’d be able to help Elliya.
Thrusting those speculations aside, he adjusted his wings to glide down toward the village. He shifted Elliya into one hand, clutching her against his chest scales, and made no effort to mask his approach. The sentinels near the box canyon caught sight of him within moments and raised cries of alarm.
Falthyris aided them by releasing a roar into the night air. When that echoing dragon call faded, more human shouts filled the silence, and more females rushed out of the cliff dwellings with spears in hand.
Holding Elliya closer still, Falthyris landed heavily, kicking up dust and stone. A group of females was already gathered between him and the dwellings ahead, all of them appearing young and lean, all of them undoubtedly huntresses. And, despite the fear glimmering in their eyes as Falthyris straightened and lifted his head high above them, they stood their ground, holding their weapons at the ready.
Falthyris released a huff through his nostrils, unable to prevent the licks of fire that came out with it. The females were speaking to one another, more and more of them arriving every moment. One jet of flame would’ve been enough to incinerate them all. Had humans forgotten so much about facing his kind?
He kept Elliya against his chest, sheltered by his body, and swallowed the threatening flames. She was infinitely more vulnerable to their spears than him.
“Send forth Telani, mother of Elliya,” Falthyris commanded, his voice rumbling and gravelly.
The huntresses murmured in startlement, exchanging wary glances.
Falthyris lowered his head and bared his sharp teeth. “Do not try my patience, mortals!”
With a collective gasp, the huntresses shrank back—but to their credit, none fled.
“I am Telani,” an unarmed female call
ed in a strong, steady voice as she strode through the group of huntresses to stand before Falthyris. She was clearly Elliya’s elder—there were fine lines on her face that Elliya did not have, and steaks of gray broke up her long black hair—but the resemblance between the two was readily apparent, especially in those dark eyes. “What business have you here, dragon, and how do you know of me?”
Falthyris clenched his jaw. These were Elliya’s people, this was her mother, and yet he found himself reluctant to so much as show her to them. She was his alone.
But to protect her now, I must counteract those instincts.
He forced himself to extend his arm. Elliya’s torso was draped across his scaled palm, legs dangling over the side. She did not stir.
“My child!” Telani rushed forward without a hint of hesitation to lean over Elliya, touching the younger woman’s face. “What has happened? What have you done?”
That quickly, Falthyris knew where Elliya’s courageous spirit must have come from.
“Dunehounds,” he replied, battling the instinct to snatch his mate away. “She has suffered from a fever for several days.”
“Oh, my daughter, my heart,” Telani said, smoothing hair back from Elliya’s face. She looked over her shoulder at the other humans. “Fetch the medicines and bring them to the pool. Go!”
A few of the females—each unarmed, like Telani—jolted into motion after a brief pause during which their terrified eyes had remained fixated on Falthyris. They all ran back toward the cliff dwellings.
None of the huntresses looked away from him despite their open fear and uncertainty, but neither did any move closer.
“Help her, human. Heal her,” Falthyris said.
Telani tilted her head back to look up at him. “We must bring her to Cetolea.”
He failed to see what good glowing water could do for his dying mate and wondered briefly whether he’d made a mistake in bringing her here. “The pool below?”
“Yes. Her waters may—” Telani’s words were cut off by a terrified yelp when Falthyris rose on his hind legs and curled his fingers around her middle. Before she could mount even a modicum of resistance, he lifted her off her feet and turned toward the box canyon.
Shouts of alarm and outrage sounded behind him, but he simply charged forward, pumping his wings to gain speed.
The pair of huntresses who had been guarding the steps readied their spears ahead of him, wearing expressions that were perfect blends of fear and determination. The realization of what they were doing struck Falthyris harder than their weapons ever could have. These humans, though they must have known the effort would prove futile, meant to defend—to rescue—Telani and Elliya.
The hateful words he’d spoken a few days ago rose up from the recesses of his memory, flooding him with another wave of guilt and regret. He’d been wrong about humans in so many ways.
He leapt over those would-be heroines, flapping his wings to ensure he gained enough height to clear the females without knocking them over. Their shocked gasps were barely audible as he darted past. He curved his wings slightly to catch the air and slow his short, reckless descent into the box canyon.
He landed hard on his hind legs but managed to keep his torso upright, sparing the humans in his hands from the impact.
Falthyris deposited Telani on the ground beside the crimson pool and extended his other arm, holding Elliya on his palm once again. A chorus of voices sounded from atop the cliff behind him, accompanied by the sounds of feet crossing dirt and stone.
“Now what, human?” he demanded, fixing his gaze on Telani.
The older female hurried to Elliya and began unraveling the blanket bundled around Elliya. “We must place her in the water. Only Cetolea’s embrace may save her now.”
“I brought her here for healing,” Falthyris snarled, “not for superstition and a bath.”
Once the blanket was open, Telani quickly removed Elliya’s robe. “Cetolea’s power is not superstition, dragon. She has healed many of our ill over the generations, and she may yet heal my daughter.”
Seeing his mate’s bare body roused both Falthyris’s Heat-fueled lust and his fierce possessiveness.
Humans were scrambling down those carved steps. Falthyris curled his fingers around his mate, snapped his head toward the newcomers, and drew his lips back in a growl. He did not care whether they were male or female—Elliya was meant only for his eyes.
“This is her chance, dragon,” Telani said, calling his attention back to her. There was a pleading note in her voice, a desperate glimmer in her eyes. She reached out, hesitated, and finally placed her hand on his finger. “This is the only hope to save Elliya. Place her in the pool.”
He clenched his jaw, fighting back the reflexive shudder threatening to course through his body in response to that touch. Telani was not his mate, and it was not her skin, was not her warmth, that he longed to feel—especially not beneath the red comet.
Focus on Elliya. She is all that matters.
“This had better work, human,” Falthyris said as he carefully lowered Elliya into the pool.
The strange water made his scales tingle. Elliya floated on the surface, prevented from drifting far by the loose cage of his talons. Her expression was almost serene, though her skin maintained that ashen pallor, which was now granted a faint, bloody tint by the water’s glow.
This had better work. Please.
“Save that which has become my heart,” he whispered to the pool, “or else no corner of the desert will be spared my wrath.”
17
Elliya opened her eyes. For a time, all she could do was stare in confusion at the stone ceiling above her. It was familiar, but it was…wrong. There was far too much sunlight touching it, and unlike the ceiling in Falthyris’s cavernous lair, this one hung low enough that she could touch it with her fingertips if she were to stand and jump.
Had Falthyris moved them into the tunnel? No, that wasn’t right either. She’d spent enough time in that tunnel to know its look by now.
She swallowed and grimaced. Her mouth felt like she’d eaten a handful of sand, and her throat was sore and dry. Her body ached, her skin was sticky and damp with sweat, and she was entirely too hot with a blanket draped over her and Falthyris wrapped around her. As though that were not enough discomfort, her stomach felt hollow and crampy, like it was collapsing in on itself.
She wriggled, attempting to slip out of her dragon’s embrace, but that little bit of movement quickly exhausted her.
Why do I feel so weak?
“Easy, Elliya,” Falthyris rumbled, his words vibrating into her. He pulled her tighter against him.
“Falthyris?” Her voice came out in a raspy whisper.
“I am here, and you are safe.” There was a rawness in his tone unlike any she’d heard before—it was not anger or hatred, but something deeper. Desperation.
Brows creasing, Elliya turned her head toward him and met his gaze.
His eyes searched hers for several moments before widening. “You are awake.”
“Water.”
Before she’d even completed the word, Falthyris sat up and grabbed a waterskin from atop the pallet they were lying upon. He helped her into a sitting position—which was difficult for her aching muscles even with assistance—uncorked the waterskin, and lifted it to her lips.
Elliya drank, closing her eyes as the cool liquid washed down her throat. Had water ever tasted so good? She reached up to grasp the waterskin, gulping down more, but Falthyris drew it away before she’d taken even one more mouthful.
“Slowly,” her dragon chided. “They said you would try to drink too much when you woke, and it would make you sick if you did.”
“They?” Her voice was clearer now, brimming with unmasked confusion. What was he talking about? Elliya and Falthyris were alone here, and why would drinking water too fast make her sick?
“The other humans. Your people. These females have been constantly touching my scales, tail, and wings,
chattering incessantly all the while. I have had to drive them away many times already. But they occasionally impart useful information.” He grunted. “And your mother was quite insistent that I tend you properly if I were to remain alone with you. Her instructions—and her threats—were quite specific.”
“My mother?” Suddenly, her vision blurred, and tears fell from her eyes. Elliya blinked the tears away and looked around. She was in her dwelling, on her pallet, in the place she’d known since her earliest memories. Spears she’d crafted were propped in one corner, baskets she’d woven with her own hands were lined up along the wall, and clay jars sat in a neat arrangement on the carved stone shelf. “I am home?”
Falthyris cupped her cheek with one hand and brushed the pad of his thumb over her skin. He released a slow breath through his nostrils, and the ember glow of his heartfire intensified in his chest. “We are home.”
Elliya’s heart clenched, and she grasped his forearm with both hands. “But you… Why?”
“I could not save you, Elliya. For all my might, I was powerless to help you when you most needed it.” He dipped his head, pressing his lips to her hair. “I could not bear to lose you, so I sought the only ones who might have healed you.”
The dunehounds. I was bitten.
Falthyris had saved her, had brought her back to the lair, and then…
Elliya vaguely recalled brief periods of wakefulness and fitful rest, of feeling like she was drowning, like she was in water too thick and heavy to swim in, unable to reach the surface to draw breath.
She remembered Falthyris calling to her.
And he brought me home. He is here, among my people.
Despite his animosity toward humans, Elliya’s dragon had brought her back to her tribe and had stayed with her, had cared for her.
“How long have I been ill?” she asked.
“Seven days.”
Elliya’s breath hitched. Seven days? It was no wonder she felt so weak, so thirsty, so hungry. She knew of few people in her tribe who’d survived through such severe sickness for so long.
To Tame a Dragon (Venys Needs Men) Page 17