Feral Ice: Paranormal Fantasy (Ice Dragons Book 1)

by Ann Gimpel

  His dragon wanted to blast the serpents with fire, but he held it back. The killing urge was strong, and his bondmate chafed under his determination to keep it from making an enormous mistake. He couldn’t allow it to gain the upper hand, though. If he did, it would be the start of a long, downhill slide that wouldn’t end well.

  He swallowed back fire and smoke with stern admonitions they’d leave this place before they’d declare war—a war they were certain to lose. This was one instance where they needed to remain invisible. Badly outnumbered, they’d do well to find out what they could. At this point, anything would be an improvement over his current level of knowledge, which was shrouded in myth and history.

  He wanted to talk with Katya but couldn’t risk any display of magic. Subtle as it was, even telepathy might alert one of the serpents to their presence. He circled higher still and watched as serpents glided up and over the ships’ railings as they came and went.

  He had no idea how many humans they’d killed, but the feast would strengthen them. Unfortunately. Angling his head, he focused his dragon’s hearing. Far sharper than his own, it brought bits and pieces of conversation his way. The serpents spoke in the dragons’ ancient language. He hadn’t used it in centuries, but he still understood it well enough.

  “Better than we expected,” floated up to him.

  “Brilliantly executed.”

  “Good choice.”

  “Never have left if we hadn’t run out of food.”

  “Ha! Ran our world dry, don’t you mean?”

  “That’s one interpretation.”

  “Nag. Nag. Nag. We may have helped it along, but it wasn’t doing well.”

  An enormous serpent with scales in a drudgy gray black reared his head back and laid his upper body flat against a bulkhead. From there, he slithered to the next deck up. Once he was situated where everyone could see him, he bugled long and loud.

  Konstantin understood he was demanding silence. Perhaps this was their leader? He waited, wanting to hear whatever the serpent had to say. Their position was risky, but he was willing to chance another few minutes. Any serpent who looked up wouldn’t see them, not exactly, but they’d likely notice the blurry spot where Konstantin’s ward didn’t quite blend with the sky.

  Katya’s wings beat faster where she hovered slightly above him. She was nervous but determined to stay the course. This might be their best opportunity to find something out, maybe critical information that would help them oust the goddess-damned serpents once and for all.

  Next to the serpent demanding silence, a wavery spot punched through the icy air. Konstantin’s eye’s widened. He knew exactly what it was even before still more serpents glided through the newly-formed portal. Exiting onto the ship, they didn’t hesitate before diving into the dark, choppy water.

  Water that was rapidly icing over. Were the serpents helping it freeze, or was the ocean so outraged by the unnatural incursion, it was taking matters into its own hands?

  After the fifteenth serpent, Konstantin quit counting. How many didn’t matter. What did was getting rid of them.

  “I have opened a new gateway,” the gray-and-black serpent announced. “Earth will be a fertile place for us to recover our lost powers.”

  A reddish serpent rose until a meter of scaled body swayed above the rocking deck. It looked up at the one who’d spoken. “You chose well, Surek. Few people are here. We can strengthen ourselves while remaining out of sight.”

  “You have been here before, correct?” Surek asked.

  The red serpent bobbed its head. “By the time our presence becomes common knowledge, we will once again be strong enough to remain in human form without risking death.”

  Konstantin shot an excited glance upward. Katya nodded her understanding. Apparently, the serpents were vulnerable as humans, a problem dragonkind never had. Of course, coaxing them to don their human bodies posed its own set of difficulties, but one challenge at a time.

  “What happens next?” another serpent, this one green, asked.

  Surek focused spinning dark eyes—dragon’s eyes—on the red serpent, the one theoretically familiar with Earth. “What do you think, Klem?”

  “Some of us, as many as possible, should masquerade as human. That way, if anyone stumbles across us, we will escape notice.” His tongue flicked in and out before he said, “We cannot remain on these ships. Humans have organizations that track such things, and the vessels may have already been reported missing. Particularly in light of the other ship having been boarded and its occupants dispatched.”

  “If not here, then where shall we build a temporary haven while we regain our full strength?” Surek asked.

  “Land is nearby. We can tunnel within it to create lairs that will escape notice. Once our magic is fully restored, we will teleport to other places on Earth and put the remainder of our plan into action.”

  Konstantin fanned his wings, waiting to see what the plan consisted of, but no one elucidated it. Probably because they’d discussed it twenty ways from Sunday before leaving whichever world they’d decimated.

  “Check within the ships for clothing,” Surek ordered. “Clean your faces of blood. Once you are attired as humans—and be sure to don a lot of clothing; humans are fragile and cannot withstand extreme cold—launch rafts. Between this ship and the other, I count six. Each raft will select a different spot to land. When you arrive, you will uncover options for underground excavation. We will communicate via telepathy, and the most promising location will be where we end up. Questions?”

  No one raised any.

  The group moved faster than Konstantin would have thought possible. Within only a few moments, two rafts bobbed in the icy waves. Engines roared to life, and the Zodiacs took off, cutting through water that had turned almost black as it thickened to icy sludge. Through the entire discussion, not one serpent had bothered to cast so much as a stray glance upward. Perhaps it boded well for being able to overpower them with a lesser force than theirs.

  Lesser, but more than him and Katya. He wanted to know what her dragon had found. So far, there hadn’t been time to delve into its search for others who were near enough to help.

  She brushed a wingtip against his, signaling her intent they should leave. He’d almost forgotten about Johan perched on her back. The man had been quiet, seemingly understanding they needed to escape detection.

  Erin’s voice calling his name reverberated through his mind. It was the extra push he needed. She was defenseless and exposed where he’d left her. Before he realized how many sea-serpents they faced, and their intent to swarm over the headlands, he’d thought her safe enough.

  She must have seen one of the rafts. Would she intuit something was amiss with its occupants? Maybe.

  Wheeling, he hastened back the way they’d flown earlier. One of the rafts had already landed. At first, he couldn’t see Erin, and his dragon’s fury rendered the beast unmanageable. He couldn’t have held back its fire no matter how hard he tried.

  Flames shot from his mouth. Ash and smoke followed. So much for stealth.

  Katya sputtered, clearly having similar control problems. A blast of magic sent Johan pinwheeling off her back surrounded by a protective sphere. It would deliver him to the beach below, freeing Katya to fight by his side.

  With fire spewing from him like a volcano, he took stock. Four serpents in human form shouldn’t be all that hard to dispatch. Not if they were as susceptible as they’d claimed to be. Their discussion suggested they were mortal as humans, which meant they could be killed.

  “Do not let them return to the sea,” Katya screeched into his mind.

  It was solid advice. Once they were in the sea, they’d reach for their serpent bodies and vanish beneath the surface where he’d never be able to find them. Since the serpents knew he and Katya were up here, there was no more reason for caution. A focused beam of magic located Erin. She and Johan were right next to each other.

  No longer worried about her, or at l
east not as worried, he kicked open the floodgates and encouraged his dragon to be as feral and bloodthirsty as it wanted. Fire rained from the skies. From Katya too. It burned the clothing off the serpents, and their human hides turned first red then black and blistered.

  Three of the serpents were well and truly on fire, but Konstantin kept right on feeding more flames into the mix. When they incinerated in front of him, he’d believe they were dead. Unholy shrieks filled the air. Surely, they were calling the others with telepathy, but if Konstantin played this right, he’d be long gone—along with Katya, Johan, and Erin—before another bunch of serpents showed up.

  Magic streamed from Katya, mixing with the flames, and all three serpents exploded, the stench of burning flesh and seared scales rotten and acrid.

  “Where’s the last one?” he shouted at his sister. He narrowed his eyes, but it was impossible to see through the smoke and ash slurry below.

  “There!” She all but dove from the skies.

  When he got lower, he saw Johan, Erin, and the last serpent. It had done its damnedest to escape and had nearly made it to the water’s edge when Johan and Erin tackled it. As things sat, it writhed face down on the ice, reaching for the water.

  Erin had one foot, Johan the other. They dragged the thing back onto the shore. The two of them had taken an enormous chance. If the serpent had been anywhere close to normal strength, it would have flattened them with magic. Murdered them and leapt into the sea. No more advantage to being airborne, so he slid heavily onto the beach and trumpeted. He needed Erin and Johan to move, but couldn’t communicate with them telepathically. Nor was there time to shift.

  They must have understood because they let go of the serpent and ran a few yards away, out of range of his fire. Katya landed next to him. Between the two of them, they doused the serpent with flames.

  “Please,” he cried before fire engulfed him. “Please. We were once the same as you.”

  “Tell someone who gives a damn,” Konstantin shouted, reverting to the dragon’s tongue, easily manageable in his beast form.

  “Good enough,” Katya yelled. “We need to leave. Now.”

  He heard a distant engine and wondered why the hell the serpents hadn’t just teleported. Had they truly grown so weak transport magic was beyond them? No time to figure it out.

  He opened his magical center. Power flared around him, creating a glowing nimbus. He gestured to Erin and Johan, and they ran to his side. The spell wasn’t elegant, but it would do. His aim was to move them fast without leaving a trail. There had to be a serpent or two who could still teleport, and he did not want unexpected company in his home.

  The distinctive feel of his power, electric with strength, surrounded all of them. His dragon added its own enchantment, falling headlong into a major contribution to his spell. His bondmate had done well today. It had slipped its leash once, but the lapse was understandable. Erin had been in danger. The dragon was beginning to view her as their mate and would protect her with every bit of power it commanded.

  Never mind she wasn’t interested in them.

  He remembered her outburst where she’d accused him of all kinds of things, right before she’d tossed out that birthing a mixed race child might kill her. The walls of his great room shimmered into being around them. He switched from teleport to shift magic as soon as his talons scraped the marble floor.

  “Are you sure none of them will follow us?” Erin asked. She unzipped the top of her suit and shook her hood back. Blonde hair curled wetly around her face, sticking out in spots, and she shielded her eyes from the brightness of his shift spell.

  He shook his head. Responding would have to wait until he was done shifting.

  “It seems unlikely,” Johan murmured. “They did talk about building their own lairs, though. Would they dig this deep?”

  “I don’t believe so.” Katya was almost human again, her talons changing back to long, shapely fingers.

  “You did,” Erin pointed out. “If you could burrow miles beneath the surface, and they’re like you, my assumption is—”

  “Something happened to their magic,” Konstantin cut in. “Hold up a moment. Let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll tell you what we saw and heard.” At her nod, he added, “This is the last time we leave anyone behind. It’s too dangerous.”

  Questions fairly danced through her mind. He saw them reflected in her eyes. Before any more spilled out, he hurried up the stairs to the next level. A bit of magic uncovered more flasks of the mildly alcoholic beverage he and Katya took turns brewing. While he retrieved something to drink, his sister pulled sheets of kelp and a tray of dried seal meat from a cupboard.

  Erin patted the front of her black suit. An alarmed look bloomed on her face. “The stone. What happened to it?”

  He angled a glance her way. “I fashioned it for a specific purpose. Once it was no longer needed, it rejoined the air I created it with.”

  A mix of unsettled emotions blazed from her, but all she said was, “Glad I didn’t lose it.”

  He dug in to the food Katya had set out. For a time, everyone ate in silence. Once he’d taken the worst of the edge off his hunger, he sketched out the information they’d acquired from their aerial perch.

  Erin nodded solemnly, regarding him through narrowed eyes. “I wondered why the one we attacked didn’t slip out of our grasp and crush us with magic.”

  “I did not expect it to.” Johan reached across and patted Erin’s arm. “But there was no time for an explanation of why I thought it was safe to jump on it. Once it reached the sea, it would have escaped.”

  “Mmph. And told the others,” Erin muttered. “If it hadn’t already.”

  “We did good work today.” Konstantin regarded his sister. “What news did your dragon bring?”

  Katya looked away, and he steeled himself for bad news. “No dragon shifters on Earth except us, but several live on nearby worlds. The problem will be convincing them this is a battle worth fighting. They decided Earth was a lost world long ago, not a promising place for dragons for all the reasons you and I know all too well.”

  “Did their reasons include the damage we have inflicted on the planet?” Johan asked.

  “Partially,” Konstantin replied. “We were forced away from our last world because it imploded into its sun. We live forever. It means we’re used to having to exchange one world for another, so the problems Earth faces are not a deterrent in and of themselves.”

  “When my dragon went looking for assistance, we didn’t appreciate the full scope of the sea-serpent problem,” Katya said. “Then, we figured there were only a few, but their leader, that Surek person, opened a portal to where they used to live. For all we know, it’s still disgorging serpents.”

  “It does change things,” Konstantin agreed.

  “You have to say more than that.” Erin knitted her brows together.

  He cast about for soft words, but there weren’t any. “Dragons live for battles. We were forged in fire, and it has shaped who we are. One of our original roles was to mediate and enforce the laws binding magic wielders.”

  Erin cleared her throat. “How many different kinds are there? Real ones, not the TV shows and books Johan loves.”

  “But they are connected,” Johan protested. “Every type of character in science fiction and fantasy was crafted because the author knew something, had seen something, or someone relayed a tale too fantastic not to be true.”

  “Not all of us assume the fantastic has its roots in reality,” Erin commented with a smile.

  “Yes, yes. We have enough problems without sidetracking into philosophical discussion points.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she replied.

  Konstantin watched the exchange but didn’t add to it. Erin was still struggling with whether magic was real, and her retreat to signposts from her familiar world was understandable.

  “You didn’t answer me.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “How many kinds of magical creatures a
re there?”

  The dogged expression on her face—determination to proceed no matter what the cost—made him respect her. “I can’t give you an exact number.” He reached for the nearer of two flasks and drank deeply. “But I can list general categories.”

  Holding up a hand, he ticked off a list, using his fingers as props. “Witches. Fae—White and Dark. Druids. Faeries. Other types of shifters, and they encompass everything from wolves to bears to birds to rodents. Sorcerers. Magicians.”

  Erin’s eyes rounded in surprise. “That many.”

  “It’s far from a comprehensive list,” he told her. “I just hit the high points. Magic is part of the roots of all worlds. It was here long before humans became so numerous they figured they owned Earth.”

  “These other worlds,” Johan cut in, “do they also include people like us? Those who are not magical?”

  “Of course,” Katya answered.

  “How many of them are there, roughly?” Erin asked.

  “That’s your second numbers question,” Konstantin observed.

  “I like to know what I’m dealing with. Is that a problem?”

  “No. Not at all, but…” He stopped talking. He’d been about to say she was missing the most important aspects of the puzzle, but she had to start somewhere. Perhaps numbers felt manageable, and the rest of it was so far afield, she couldn’t even formulate questions.

  “What is our next move?” Johan asked. “Surely, we are not going to sit down here while those atrocities gain a toehold.”

  “We can’t take them on by ourselves,” Konstantin said. “Especially, not after today. We caught them by surprise. It won’t happen twice.”

  “Yes. They know we’re here,” Katya agreed. “We no longer have the element of surprise.”