by Ann Gimpel
“Too bad the dragon god did not do away with the serpents then,” I mumbled.
A soft smile played at the edges of Katya’s full lips. “It isn’t easy to destroy your creations. Up until that time, serpents and dragons were one and the same. Kinship ties and magic are hard to lay aside.”
I continued to stroke her curls, moving stray locks out of her face. I understood full well how painful it was to jettison work you’d sunk your soul into. For me, it had been theories that hadn’t paid out. How much harder would it be to make the choice to kill off living beings?
“I understand,” I told her. “Easy to judge when you are not in another man’s shoes. How far afield did you travel from the southern pole?”
“With my spell?” After I nodded, she went on, “Not far. I’ll extend my reach another day. It appears the serpents’ damage has been localized, but it won’t take them long to spread out.”
I moved a hand to tap my breastbone. “My bondmate is outraged.”
“Mine too. She wants us to get moving.”
“How likely is it we’ll find dragons on Earth who are no longer working the good side of the street?” I asked.
“What a quaint way to put it.” She smiled wanly. “If you’d asked me that question even a week ago, I’d have said zero. And meant it. Now I’m not so sure. What we don’t know is what’s in it for the dragons. Why any of them would align themselves with serpents is an enormous unknown.”
“You said magic is changing,” I reminded her. “Worlds are dying. Perhaps some cosmic balance has shifted beyond a tipping point.”
Her face crumpled until distress carved lines into it. “Tipping point means there’s no coming back, right?”
I nodded. “Earth is—or was—a dying world. Thanks to a continued onslaught from men who prioritized money over wisdom, it heated to a point many species were dying out. Oceans have become less able to support life. Depending on whom you talked with, Earth was either doomed or well on its way.”
“We sensed as much, Konstantin and me. So did the other dragon shifters who lived in our underground grotto. I have no idea what happened to them. Always thought it odd we never heard one word after they left.”
“Let us hope they relocated far away,” I told her.
It would be demoralizing as fuck if she ended up knowing some of the dragons who’d joined up with the serpents. I was getting way ahead of myself, though. When we’d left Earth—and it was only a few days ago—the serpents had been weak and on their own. As I thought about it, I was fairly certain they hadn’t glommed onto any dragons. If they had, the first thing they’d have done was reclaim their immortality.
A sizable circle had formed around Konstantin. Part of it was dinosaurs who took up quite a bit of space, but at least fifty other shifters beyond the dragons we’d found on the third world had clearly signed on for our undertaking.
“We will teleport to a vast plateau roughly four kilometers beneath the Antarctic ice shelf,” Konstantin told everyone. “That way, we can plan our first offensive in relative safety. I’ve sent each of you a rough idea of teleport coordinates.”
“Is there water?” Nikolai asked.
“Yes. A string of freshwater lakes, some of them quite large,” Kon replied. “Why?”
“Water is the serpents’ natural element. Means we must be vigilant.”
“We will be. See you all very soon.” The air around Konstantin and Erin took on a liquid, glistening aspect right before they vanished.
I let go of Katya. “Let me manage the teleport spell this time. I need practice.”
“All right.”
She didn’t seem particularly happy about returning home, but then I reminded myself she’d never really viewed Earth as her home. It had merely been a place to reside while she and her brother sorted what to do next.
“Are the scrying visions still bothering you?” I asked as I opened a channel to my power.
“Of course. I’d be a fool not to be disturbed by them.” She shook her head until hair danced around her shoulders. “Sorry. I sounded bitchy, but I’m not angry at you. I’ll feel better once we have this task well under way.”
“We all will.” Because her grotto was familiar to me, it was simple enough to set it as our endpoint. The high plains world around us ceded to darkness, and we shot through whatever wrinkle in the space-time continuum allowed shuttling between worlds.
“I hope everyone who is coming along is what they seem,” she said.
“Why would you suspect they are not?”
I’d woven my arms around her, and she leaned into me. “Suspect is too strong a word. After today, though, I’m not completely sure of anyone. Except for you and Kon and Erin, of course.”
“And probably the dinosaurs.”
She laughed. “They seem too solid to be anything but trustworthy.”
I did what I thought might be the magical equivalent of a course correction. When I stretched my power it seemed we weren’t any closer to Earth than we’d been when we left the sixth world. I share most men’s antipathy for asking directions. I’d rather figure things out for myself, but after a few more minutes dripped by, I shelved my pride.
“Could you check where we are, please?”
Katya had been drowsing against me. Her scrying spell seemed to have taken a lot more out of her than her confidence in the future. Her eyes fluttered open. “Sure. Hold on.”
The characteristic tang of her magic wrapped around us, and she stiffened in my arms. “Dragon’s balls! How did we drift so far off course?”
Defensiveness ran hot, but I managed to say, “I have no idea. I did exactly what you taught me to do. Set a course and confirmed it from time to time.”
“When did you notice things weren’t right?”
“About five minutes before I asked you to check.”
Her jaw muscles tensed; I wasn’t the only one keeping blistering words from leaking out. Her magic strengthened as she did something I wasn’t totally following.
“Help me.” The controlled terror in her words dug deep. Shit! I hadn’t been on top of my game, and now we were caught in some magical cesspool.
“Anything,” I said.
“Open your magic to me. Mine isn’t doing it.”
I redirected power away from my failed teleport spell, and funneled it into Katya. I had a lot of questions, most of them revolving around what was wrong and where we were. She took every scrap of magic I offered and then some until I was running on fumes.
Maybe I could gather information without bothering her concentration. I turned my attention inward to my beast. The place I associated with him was empty. Was that what had happened? My dragon assumed all was simpatico and had gone on an errand of his own?
“This will be rough,” Katya said through clenched teeth. “We’ll come out on the headland, but at least we’ll be on Earth. We can travel to the grotto once we’ve broken through from the place between worlds.”
I’ve always had solid intuition. What if my missing bondmate wasn’t coincidental? “Where is your dragon?” I asked.
“Why does it matter?” She sounded annoyed. And exhausted. I felt like a chump. I’d meant to make her life easier, and had ended up draining both our power banks down to their foundations.
“Mine seems to be gone.”
Katya’s magic that had been propelling us through darkness halted so abruptly my teeth clanged together. She was panting. “Solid observation. Mine is missing as well. Calls for a dramatic course correction.”
I fed her magic from my dwindling supply. Now that I’d become more familiar with it, I’d learned to assess about how much I had to work with. I had a lot of questions, but they could wait until we’d gained safe harbor. Or harbor, anyway. Probably none of them were safe.
We flashed through a barrier and dropped through wet, drizzly skies onto an icy moor. I landed harder than I would have liked; it knocked the wind out of me. The unmistakable smells of wet heather and gorse
bushes bombarded me. “Scotland? We are in the Highlands, are we not?”
“Good guess.” She started across spongy, frozen grass toward a spot where power flared. I followed her through some kind of gateway into a rounded cavern. At least it was dry in here.
“It was not a guess,” I said. “Why here? And what happened to our dragons?”
A bluish mage light kindled next to her, turning her eyes into luminous pools. “Magic is very near the surface in the Highlands. We can replenish ourselves easily. Your second question isn’t as simple. Something—perhaps a lingering mischief—separated us from our bondmates. Not permanently because the bond is intact. My guess is our dragons were sent one direction while we traveled in another.”
She shook water out of her hair. “If I’m right, they’ll find us.”
“Ja, but we must ensure this never happens again.” I should have been terrified. Instead, indignation ruled.
“It’s not as if this was random. Shots out of left field are hard to plan for.” Katya rubbed the side of her face with one hand. Her fingers left grimy streaks down her cheek.
“Do you suppose everyone else made it back?”
Rather than answering, she said, “Draw power from the earth into your body. Imagine setting up a flow and then keeping it active. This is much like warming yourself, except you’re replenishing your magic.”
My connection with the earth soothed and invigorated me at the same time. The lethargy that had dogged me since the bloody dragon nearly killed me finally receded. When my dragon slammed into me, it felt like I’d been kicked in the chest, but I welcomed him.
Bugling rang from my mouth. Steam followed. “You’re safe,” my beast crowed. “You’re safe.”
Katya sank into a crouch, smiling. The timbre of her magic changed pitch, so I figured her dragon was back too. Looking up, Katya met my gaze. “This could have been so much worse. We’re whole again, and it didn’t take nearly as long as I feared it would.”
More bugling, this time from two dragons, filled the cavern, along with buckets of steam. Because I was reveling in relief I didn’t notice we had company until a man with a staunch Scottish brogue said, “Ye’re making enough racket to wake the dead. Tell me what two dragon shifters are doing in my realm, and make it snappy.”
Katya redirected her mage light until it illuminated two tall, ethereal-looking, barefooted men wearing fawn-colored robes. Slender silvery circlets sat over their brows. One’s eyes were very blue. The other’s were dark. Masses of golden hair shot with silver sparkled around them.
“Sidhe.” Katya breathed the word.
One inclined his head. “Aye. Daione Sidhe. Now tell me why two dragon shifters are tapping magic that rightfully belongs to the Dreaming.”
“It is entirely my fault,” I said. “I am who failed to guide our traveling spell.”
“A Dutchman?” The blue-eyed faery sounded more than surprised.
“At your service.” I bowed.
“Which adds another question to my first,” the man went on. “There are no Dutch dragon shifters. Holland wasn’t a country when—”
“I was h—” I began.
“Uh-uh!” Katya’s warning was timely. I’d been about to blurt the truth.
I cleared my throat before I said, “I was separated from my beast for a while and spent much time in the Netherlands.”
Two sets of Sidhe eyes lit with curiosity. “Separated from your dragon? Surely ’tis a tale worth hearing,” the dark-eyed one said. “Begin at the beginning.”
“We lack the time for this.” I aimed for a respectful tone. I’d made enough mistakes for one day and felt certain dragon business wasn’t to be shared.
Magic dripping with the scent of the Highlands wrapped around me. Even I, green as I was, recognized a compulsion spell.
“Begin at the beginning,” the faery repeated, and I understood it wasn’t a request, but a command. Power, ancient and gilt-edged, flared around him, and I fell headlong into his magic.
Chapter 18
Katya was of two minds about the Sidhe. They might become allies in an all-out war, but anyone—magical or otherwise—who trusted a Sidhe generally lived to regret it. Granted she and Johan had been noisier than they should have been, and the noise—and probably their magic—had drawn the faeries’ attention.
No one to blame but ourselves.
She inclined her head intent on chopping through the spell threading itself about Johan.
“With all due respect, Brothers, we were diverted from our intended destination. I brought us here to replenish our magic. Apologies for taking what was not ours, but our plight is desperate. We are in the midst of a war. If we lose, dark magic will overrun Earth and obliterate everything and everyone who calls this world home.”
“A war with whom?” the dark-dyed Sidhe asked, adding, “I am Gavin; his name is Keir.”
“Katya and Johan,” she said. Trading names was traditional, and it would have been rude of her to withhold theirs. At least the spell that had Johan in its sights was dissipating. The Sidhe had short attention spans, particularly compared with dragons.
“Our war is with sea-serpents,” Johan replied.
“The selfsame beasts linked to dragonkind by blood?” Gavin asked.
Katya nodded.
“We felt…something,” Keir muttered, “but convinced ourselves we’d imagined it.”
“Their entry point is far from here,” Johan said. “The Southern Ocean to put a finer point on it.”
“Och, the beasties would surely be drawn to a spot with plenty of icy water.” Gavin sucked his mouth into a disapproving moue.
“What is your plan for ridding Earth of the serpents?” Keir asked.
Katya blew out a breath. Her revelation—coupled with a subtle shot of magic—had diverted the Sidhe from their insistence on hearing every last detail about Johan and his dragon and the Netherlands. Somewhere along the line, the Sidhe would figure out they were being fed half-truths. Humans could not discover the transformation was possible, though, or there’d be a rush of people wanting to become something they could never understand.
The Sidhe were a bunch of gossipmongers. The less they knew, the better.
“We have only the barest bones of a plan in place,” she replied. “As I said, something diverted our travel spell. As soon as I realized we were in trouble, I altered destinations. It’s how we ended up here. We’ll be on our way very soon.”
“But ye must discuss this with our council.” Gavin regarded them through narrowed eyes.
Katya planted herself in front of him. “As my companion said, we have no time. My brother is Konstantin, and he will turn the world upside down hunting for us if we don’t return immediately. We must not squander our magic. Whatever he expends hunting for me will make us that much less effective fighting the serpents.”
“Konstantin, as in the dragon shifters’ liege? The one who speaks to the land?” Keir raised a golden eyebrow.
“The same,” Katya concurred. How was it these faeries knew so much about dragon shifters?
“We understand.” Gavin glanced at Keir.
“Tell your brother we shall come to him.” Keir nodded firmly, as if the matter were settled.
“I’m certain he would deem it a great honor.” Katya chose her words carefully. “And we can plan an enormous celebration including all magic wielders—once the serpent threat is behind us.”
She hurried on before the Sidhe could launch their own agenda. “Surely the goddess’s hand is in our chance meeting. Mobilize all with magic in this region. Be vigilant. Strike down evil with neither jury nor trial.”
“You do not command us.” Gavin’s tone held a warning note.
“Nor do I wish to,” she agreed smoothly. “If you choose to be the beacon that keeps these lands from falling to wickedness, we very much appreciate your aid.”
“Dinosaurs stand with us,” Johan spoke up.
Surprise radiated from the Sidhe. “
They left their borderworlds? What magic did ye cast to accomplish such a feat?” Keir’s eyebrows crawled back down his forehead.
“None. A select few left one of their worlds willingly,” Katya murmured. She blew out a tense breath, but she had to tell them. “Um, some dragons have joined with the serpents. The illusion shielding what they are is cunning.”
“How do we know ye’re not in that camp?” Gavin dropped a truth spell over her. He didn’t bother with subtlety. She felt the prick of its weave.
Her beast was infuriated. “How dare he?” the dragon raged. Fire shot from her mouth, mixed with ash.
Katya shook her head. “Sorry. You offended my dragon. Were we aligned with serpents, we’d scarcely have told you to be on the lookout for such dragons.”
“The lass has a point,” Gavin mumbled, but stopped short of an actual apology.
“We must leave,” Katya said. “When next we see you, I shall pay for the magic we withdrew from the Dreaming with gold from my hoard.”
“I shall make certain that message is passed to Oberon and Titania,” Keir said. “We will also discuss your war with the serpents and see if we might help.”
“It is not ‘our’ war,” Johan cut in, making Katya proud of him. “If we fail, the only life left on Earth will be powered by dark magic.”
“Regardless. Until we decide it’s worth our magic to join your cause,” Keir said, “it is still your war.” The air around the two Sidhe took on a warm, golden glow. When it cleared, they were gone.
“Well. That was a surprise,” Katya said, blinking at the afterglow left by the Sidhe. “I haven’t seen any faery-folk in the last millennia.”
“Moving past my amazement the Sidhe are real, you might be onto something.” Johan creased his forehead thoughtfully.
“We’re real,” she reminded him, followed by, “What do you mean?”
“I am coming to understand not much that happens in a magical world is accidental. We were directed off course by an unseen hand. We assumed malevolent intent, but perhaps whoever was behind our unexpected side trip orchestrated precisely what just occurred. You said a lot of magic resides in the UK. Now everyone with power will know of the serpents’ insidious plot.”