I searched slowly around the voluminous ground floor of the windmill, looking for a trapdoor or steps to a lower level. There were upper levels, too, but it would take some climbing to reach them. The wooden stairs that had once spiraled up the circular wall had collapsed, and the floor above was thirty feet up.
As I explored, I passed ancient wheelbarrows with wooden wheels, a rooster-shaped windmill weight, and millstones resting flat on the floor or leaning against the walls. One of the larger stones had fallen through the floor at some point, leaving a jagged opening to a dark basement.
“What kind of windmill has a basement?” I muttered, pulling out my phone and tapping on the flashlight app. I also had a night-vision charm, but there was too much daylight filtering in through the doorway and holes in the walls for me to use it here.
Val? Over here. Sindari’s tone was grim.
He was on the other side of the cavernous room, behind a pile of rusty farm tools that looked like they’d been ordered back when the first Sears catalog had been mailed out. I shined the light down into the basement, spotting nothing but more millstones and a stack of wood boards, then headed toward him.
As I rounded the pile of farm tools, I almost tripped on a boot. A boot attached to a leg attached to a body. A body without a head.
I’d seen plenty of grisly sights over the years and didn’t react to this one, other than to sigh. The man was wearing a blood-drenched green-and-khaki Jefferson County ranger uniform, and I knew right away this was Willard’s missing contact. I wished the guy had waited for me instead of trying to find the children on his own.
“Where’s the head?”
Sindari sat beside the body—this was what he’d brought me over to see. It’s not here.
Judging by the stump of the neck, it had been bitten off. With one powerful chomp. There weren’t many animals I knew that could have done that. I remembered how large Zav had been in his dragon form while standing on the rooftop of my apartment building. A dragon’s maw was definitely big enough for the job.
“Do dragons eat humans?” I shuddered at the idea.
Not typically. They prefer fat herbivores of substantial size. But they’re certainly capable of eating just about anything—and anyone. The dragon could have done this to make a point. Or as an efficient way to kill the man for snooping in his windmill.
“Is it really his windmill?” I looked toward the exit—the only way in or out, unless there was a big hole somewhere on a higher level. “How would a dragon fit in here?”
The only hole in the wall was the one I’d made.
They have long necks.
I thought he was joking, but Zav’s neck had been long. Elegant but long. Could his big head have fit through the doorway to kill this man with a bite?
They can also shape-shift into smaller creatures, as you’ve seen.
“True.”
I shook my head. I would let Willard know what had happened to this guy, but the children were why I’d been sent.
“Sindari?” I returned to the hole in the floor and pointed him toward it. “Can you tell if anyone is down there?”
He sniffed the air over the hole. That distant crying came again. No, not distant. Muffled. Maybe there was a door and another room down there.
“It may be another trap,” I admitted.
If he didn’t smell anyone, I would assume it was, that the dragon wanted to lure me down so it could later bite my head off.
I do detect other humans down there. Several of them. Stay here. I will look.
He disappeared into the darkness, dropping twenty feet and landing among the millstones without trouble. I dropped to my stomach and shined my light around below, hoping to spot a way to climb down—or climb back up, if I jumped down. Next time, I wouldn’t hop out of the Jeep without a rope.
The circular stone wall of the windmill extended all the way to the flagstone floor of the basement. The area down there wasn’t simply some pit that had been dug out after the initial construction. It actually looked like the original ground level of the mill and that the earth outside had been built up to cover it. Or maybe the windmill had been magically sunken into the ground. If so, to what end?
I pointed my flashlight beam toward the nearest basement wall. The mortar between the stones was crumbling or missing completely, leaving what I could turn into handholds for climbing. But the hole in the floor was more than ten feet from the nearest wall. There wouldn’t be a way to get over to it without suction cups.
“Or making a new hole,” I muttered.
A gouging noise floated up from below.
“I hope that’s you, Sindari.”
A loud thud followed.
“I definitely hope that’s you. Please let me know if ogres live down there.”
I am attempting to break down a solid oak door with an enchantment locking it. I may need you and your charm.
“I don’t suppose I can toss it down and you can use it without me?” I eyed the exit, worried about the dragon returning while I was down in the basement.
I do not believe I can use your charms. Also, when you used it on the doorway above, you did something beyond the intrinsic power of that charm. I sensed it.
“Any idea what it was?”
You did it. Do you not know?
“I know less than you’d think.” I located Sindari with the flashlight beam and saw the door. The muffled crying came again, and it came from that direction. That made up my mind. “I’m coming down.”
But not without creating a way out. I trotted to the wall, pocketed my phone, and, apologizing to Chopper for using it as a crowbar, slid the blade between the board and the stone. A mundane sword would have snapped off at the hilt. Fortunately, Chopper was no mundane sword. I’d won the blade in a battle years ago and didn’t know its history—Zav had hinted that it had powers I didn’t know about—but I did know it was far stronger than a slender piece of metal should have been.
It glowed a faint blue when it was out of its scabbard, but today, its glow was fainter than usual. Maybe it was indignant to be put to this use instead of going into battle.
“Next time,” I promised the blade.
A board shifted, nails wrenching free from their beds, and I flicked it away. As old as the windmill was, the floorboards were thick and solid, and I couldn’t pull up the rest with my hands. I had to keep using the sword as a crowbar. Aware of the seconds passing, I forced myself to be careful and methodical—and not cut my leg off.
Another thud came from below. Sindari trying to knock down the door.
“Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll be down as soon as this hole is wide enough.”
There isn’t much time. He sounded certain.
“What does that mean?” I snapped another board free. A bead of sweat ran down the side of my face.
I sense the dragon approaching.
I swore. “How far away?”
The dragon wasn’t within range of my senses yet, but Sindari’s range was greater than mine.
Three miles, maybe four. He’s flying this way.
I swore again and pried another board free. It clattered loudly as it landed. How well could dragons hear?
“Is someone out there?” For the first time, words reached my ears, as muffled as the crying had been and barely audible.
Sindari threw himself at the door again.
The hole was wide enough. I sheathed Chopper and scrambled down, willing my night-vision charm to activate, then wincing because there was still too much light filtering down from above, and it created a weird flare effect—and an instant headache.
Squinting, I clambered across the millstones to the opposite side of the basement. It grew darker as I moved away from the holes in the floor.
Directly under the ground-level entrance above, there was a short tunnel littered with pieces of stone that had fallen over the years. Sindari shifted aside, and I rushed forward, placing a hand on the oak door. The hinges were rusty but thick, and the woo
d was as solid as he’d promised. The zing of magic against my palm warned me of the enchantment sealing it.
“I’m here,” I called. “We’re getting you out.”
“Please, please, help us,” came the return call, a girl’s voice.
I prayed the kids truly were alive in there and that some magic wasn’t talking to me while beheaded children lay scattered among the upper levels of the windmill.
Two miles away, Sindari warned.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, willing the charm to unlock the door.
The enchantment broke, and the magical zing of electricity winked out. There wasn’t a latch or knob, so all I could do was stick my finger in an empty knot and tug, hoping that was enough. The door glided soundlessly outward.
Four dirty, gaunt faces peered at me, and the scent of urine and feces wafted out. The children—two boys and two girls—must have been locked in there for days. Their lips were cracked—hadn’t they even been given water?
“We have to hurry.” I waved them out. “And you have to climb.”
There’s not going to be time. Sindari had moved to the hole and peered upward. Unless you want me to distract another dragon. There’s no cliff to leap off this time.
He could turn this whole place into a bonfire while we’re in the basement. I helped the children out, wincing at how slowly they moved, their bodies stiff after being locked up for so long. The youngest girl paused to wrap her arms around my waist. It was touching, but all I could think about was that we didn’t have time. Later, there could be hugs.
My senses lit up as the dragon flew into my range.
A mile? I asked Sindari.
Yes. He’ll be here in seconds. Sindari bunched his powerful leg muscles and sprang the twenty feet out of the hole, landing lightly on the floorboards above. Dust trickled down between them. I’ll run into the woods and try to buy you time.
Thank you. Make sure to dismiss yourself before he can hurt you.
I will. You make sure to irritate him enough that he doesn’t follow me back to my realm. His tone was dry, but also concerned. Unlike most magical beings, dragons could instantly make temporary portals to the other realms.
I’m stealing his prisoners. I’m sure he’ll be pissed.
I hope so. If he’s taking prisoners, he’s not going to be as easy to deal with as the other dragon.
I almost scoffed at the idea of Zav and his cocky arrogance being easy to deal with, but Sindari was right. However arrogant he was, Zav believed he was one of the good guys. He hadn’t razed the city of Seattle to get to his dark-elf targets when he had the power to do so.
I half-pulled, half-carried the children to the wall. “We have to climb. Up that.”
They stared at the vertical wall with wide eyes.
“It’s easy,” I promised them. “Lots of handholds.”
They turned their wide eyes on me as if I were nuts. Maybe they would have been less daunted if they hadn’t been weak from days without food and only whatever rainwater might have leaked through to them.
“Never mind. Here, climb on my back. One at a time.”
They liked that idea better. I was halfway up the wall with one of the boys hanging from my shoulders when the roar of the dragon reached my ears.
Thieves! Intruders!
The children gasped, which meant the telepathic words were broadcast rather than drilled into only my mind.
“He’s going to hurt us.”
“He’s going to kill us, like that man!”
“No, he’s not,” I promised, hoping I wasn’t lying. “My friend is leading him away. Did you see the tiger? He’s amazing.”
Since Sindari didn’t comment on the last—usually, he would agree—I assumed he’d already run out of earshot. Even now, the dragon might be diving down on him, like an eagle plummeting to snatch a fish out of a lake.
I climbed faster, reached the opening, and shoved the boy off my shoulders and onto the floorboards. Without hesitating, I jumped back down, rolling to keep the fall from breaking my ankles. I sprang back to my feet and swept one of the girls onto my back to repeat the climb.
Another roar sounded outside. The dragon was farther away now. Had Sindari made it to the woods? The tall, densely packed trees would make it harder for an aerial foe to swoop down on him.
I deposited the second child on the floorboards and jumped down again. Halfway there…
Val? Sindari’s voice sounded distant in my mind. He had to be close to the end of our range—he could only travel a mile from the charm before the link would break, sending him back to his world.
Yes? I climbed up with my third hitchhiker.
I made it to the woods, and he followed me partway, but now he’s leaving. I think he’s going back to the windmill.
Ugh. He must have realized what you were doing.
I’m running back to you, but he’s faster than I am. He’ll get there first.
The second boy joined the other two children.
“You three, start running,” I ordered as I jumped down again. “Run back to the orchard. Do you know the way?”
“Yes,” the older boy said. “Is it safe out there?”
No.
“It will be for a bit, but you have to hurry.” As I swept up the last girl, I again hoped I wasn’t lying.
The idea of making it all the way here and finding the children only to lose them was heart-wrenching. Would the dragon capture them again, or would he incinerate them as they fled across the meadow? Why had he kidnapped them in the first place?
When I reached the top, I climbed out, not bothering to pull the girl off my shoulders. Panting from my exertions, I sprinted for the exit.
The first three children were running across the meadow toward the woods and the trail, but the high grass impeded them. The dragon flew into view over the treetops, heading straight toward the windmill. He was as large as Zav, but with silver scales instead of black, with a fist-sized, black onyx stone embedded in his chest. Instead of violet, his eyes were silver-blue, and I could see their angry glow from hundreds of meters away. They were boring right into me.
I ran after the children. If I could get them to the woods, I could come back out in the open and buy time for them to escape. Whether I would survive buying that time, I didn’t know, but it was the only plan that came to mind.
With my longer legs, I caught up with the three children. They were only halfway to the tentative safety of the woods. The dragon was heading straight toward us and would be on us in seconds.
I shook my head in despair; there wasn’t enough time.
“Follow them,” I ordered, pulling the girl off my back and pointing to the others.
She could barely see over the grass that was waist-high to me and shoulder-high to her, but she scrambled after the others. I backed toward the windmill, drawing Chopper and waving the sword menacingly at the dragon.
He arrowed down toward the children, not toward me. His great fanged maw opened wide, and my heart sank. He was going to breathe fire at them, incinerate them while I helplessly watched.
“No, you don’t, you bastard.” I yanked Fezzik from its holster, flicked the selector to automatic, and sprayed magical bullets at the dragon’s silver-scaled hide.
With a target that big, it was impossible to miss. But I’d seen Zav incinerate bullets, and I expected this dragon to do the same.
His jaws snapped shut, and his head jerked sideways. Again, those silver-blue eyes burned into me. He shifted his path away from the children—and toward me.
He hadn’t incinerated my bullets, but they also didn’t appear to have hurt him. That left me standing out in the open without a means of defending myself.
Arms pumping, I sprinted back toward the windmill, Chopper in one hand and Fezzik in the other. I tried not to think about the beheaded ranger and the fact that I wouldn’t be safe even if I made it inside.
As I ran, I fired over my shoulder. The dragon dove down, talons outstretched.
I wasn’t going to make it as far as the ranger had.
I aimed for his eyes, the best I could as I was sprinting in the opposite direction. Maybe they would be a vulnerable spot.
One of my bullets bounced right off his eyelid. He didn’t flinch. Hell.
The talons swept in. I flung myself to the ground, rolling onto my back and slashing upward with Chopper. The blade struck one of the toes on his scaly foot as the talons missed taking my head off by scant inches. Surprisingly, my sword gouged into its target.
The dragon didn’t shriek in pain as his momentum carried him past, but he did grunt, jerking his foot up toward his scaled belly. I leaped up, thinking of taking another stab, but he passed out of my range too quickly. Already, he was flying upward and banking, so he could dive again.
I sprinted into the windmill, running to the far side and ducking under the overhang of the half-destroyed staircase. Sindari rushed inside as the dragon roared. Not with frustration at losing his prey—he knew he hadn’t lost anything—but in preparation.
The sky outside exploded with brilliant orange light as the dragon breathed fire onto the windmill.
5
I crouched beside Sindari at the back of the windmill, fingers wrapped around my fire-protection charm as flames obscured the exit.
The wood frame that I’d broken earlier charred and incinerated in two seconds. Much of the exterior was made from stone, but the heat was so intense that those stones were exploding or crumbling to ash. After twenty seconds under the dragon’s fiery assault, the windmill already felt like an oven inside. My charm protected me from direct flame, but I doubted it would keep me from roasting alive.
Think it’ll be cooler in the basement or worse? I silently asked, trusting Sindari to read my thoughts.
Possibly worse.
At what temperature do magical tigers burst into flame?
The same as half-elves, I suspect.
You better go back to your realm. I tapped the cat figurine. It was so hot to the touch that I jerked my finger away.
If Sindari burned to death here on Earth, would any part of him survive to return home? Or would he die as surely as I would?
Battle Bond: An Urban Fantasy Dragon Series (Death Before Dragons Book 2) Page 3