Chasing Wings

by Hanna Dare

  Ormur set about fussing over him — tearing up another one of Tris’s shirts and tucking a blanket around him. He built up the fire and took out the bundle of food Tris had packed. The bread and cheese were a bit flattened but still edible and Ormur helped Tris to sit up a bit, leaning against the log.

  It was Tris’s turn to pick at the food, a little worried that anything he put in his stomach would fall out of the wound — closed up or no.

  Ormur eyed him dryly. “You chose this food, so you can’t blame me if you do not like it.”

  “Can I throw it at you, though?”

  Ormur’s lips twitched. “I admit there were times I threw things just to watch you bend over.”

  “What?”

  “Your trousers have a more pleasing fit when they’re stretched. It shows off some of your better attributes.”

  Tris blinked, trying to sort that out. “Are you saying you like looking at me? At my backside?”

  “Is that so surprising?”

  “Yes, yes, it is. This is me, surprised.”

  Ormur was almost smiling, his face lit by dancing flames.

  Tris smiled wide enough for both of them. “So all I had to do for you to like me was to nearly die.” He wasn’t entirely sure about the nearly right now, since he’d seen far more minor wounds turn bad, but he wanted to keep it light.

  “You didn’t have to do that. I did not mind you so much before.”

  “Could’ve fooled me.” He felt sleepy and strangely content for all they were in the middle of nowhere with the possibility of enemies descending at any moment. Tris shifted back against the log. “Y’know, you’re talking differently.”

  “Do you mean more pleasantly? That is only because I still expect you to expire at any moment.”

  “The way you say things. Your accent. You didn’t have an accent.”

  Ormur blinked. “Yes, I am slipping, but it has been a long night.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Go to sleep, Tris.”

  “But—”

  “I’ll keep watch,” Ormur’s voice sounded more like it usually did. “Don’t worry.”

  Tris opened his eyes to the soft light of dawn. Ormur was sitting up against the log and Tris had somehow moved his head onto his lap. No wonder, because Ormur’s lap was the warmest and softest thing to be found in the forest — the rest of his body was envious as it lay curled up on the twig and pine-needle strewn ground. There were fingers running through his hair, stroking gently, and Tris hastily closed his eyes again, not wanting the moment to end.

  “I know you’re awake, Tris.”

  “Not really.” Tris kept his eyes shut even tighter. “Dreaming.”

  The stroking turned to a sharp tug. “Awake now?”

  Tris smiled. “Good morning.”

  “That remains to be seen.

  Tris raised his head. His stomach felt like it had taken a hard punch, but it was a soreness rather than a deeper pain. He probably didn’t need Ormur’s help to sit up against the log, but he liked having those strong hands on him. He would’ve never dreamed that Ormur could be so tender. Well, he had, but those had been more like fantasies and involved Ormur taking off Tris’s pants rather than his shirt.

  “What is it?” Ormur paused as he helped Tris remove his stained and torn shirt.

  “Nothing.” Tris would’ve thought that he’d lost enough blood yesterday that he wouldn’t have any to spare for his cock. He squirmed a bit and hoped Ormur wouldn’t notice his morning wood.

  Ormur gave him a look but went back to easing the shirt over Tris’s head. It was stiff with dried blood.

  “Let’s see how your wound looks in the light of day,” Ormur glanced at the dim light filtering through the trees. “Such as it is.”

  “No more fresh bandages, though,” Tris said. “I don’t think I have any more shirts.”

  Ormur unwound the bandages around Tris’s middle then dropped his hands and squatted back on his heels. Tris stared down at himself, his eyes widening in surprise.

  The wound was a thin red line, the skin around it mottled with yellow and green bruises. Tris wanted to offer some explanation, but he had none. He’d been lucky not to have any major injuries in the past, but he’d been hurt enough to know that this kind of healing was in no way normal.

  Tris fumbled at the chain that hung around his neck and lifted up the amulet. Dried blood coated the stone, and he rubbed his thumb over the gem.

  “The power of the dragon,” Tris whispered.

  “What?” Ormur asked sharply.

  “I took this from the Earl’s study. Stole it,” he admitted guiltily. “He’d showed it to me before, said he was doing — I don’t know — magic on it?” He stared up at Ormur, trying to make sense of it all. “The Earl hasn’t really aged in the last ten years. He said it was because of the amulet. Maybe it helps heal as well?”

  Ormur reached out with hesitant fingers but stopped short of touching the amulet. “So at least the Earl doesn’t have it anymore.”

  “Well…”

  “What now?”

  “There are two. One he wears all the time and this. He was going to give this necklace to the king.”

  “So that must be the reason,” Ormur said more to himself.

  “Ormur?”

  But Ormur was already standing up, his eyes staring off. “I have to go back.”

  “Go back where? No, you can’t be serious. We just escaped.”

  Ormur drew himself up to his full height. As slender as he was, Ormur was tall and he stood proudly enough to rival any tree. “Because I’m still not free and I never will be as long as the Earl has that amulet.”

  Tris struggled to push himself to sit up. “What are you saying?”

  “What do you think?” He glared down at Tris, his eyes flashing with gold. “I am a dragon.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tris was staring.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been looking at Ormur in a mixture of confusion and shock, but it seemed like a while. He was also becoming aware that his mouth was hanging open. Tris managed to shut that, but the staring went on.

  Ormur folded his arms and sighed.

  Tris found his voice. It was higher and squeakier than usual. “You’re a dragon?”

  “Yes. That’s what I said.”

  Any bit of calm Tris had left snapped. “But all this time! So why haven’t you changed into one before? Why aren’t you now?”

  Ormur matched his frustration. “Don’t you think I’ve been trying?” He jerked a hand over his short hair and clutched the back of his neck. “It must be that damned amulet. It called to me — more than that, it made me show up so that Marius could capture me. I was in human form when I first felt its pull. It was like I was stuck. Caught in amber.” He crouched down in front of Tris, staring at him with haunted eyes. “Out on the road last night, the farther I got from that house the harder it was to walk. It was like I was being pulled back.”

  “If it’s the amulet—” Tris started to take it off.

  Ormur quickly caught Tris’s hands. “No, don’t, your wound—”

  “Practically healed.” Tris shrugged nonchalantly. “We need to see what happens.”

  He slipped the necklace off his head and pushed it into Ormur’s hands. Despite his words, Tris held onto his belly, worried the wound would suddenly reopen and start spurting blood. Nothing like that happened. Tris did feel more tired, but that might have been all in his mind.

  Ormur stood and paced the edges of the clearing, his brows knitted together in concentration as he stared down at the amulet.

  “Maybe don’t touch it?” Tris suggested helpfully, though he had no idea what he was helping with.

  Ormur set the amulet on the ground and walked away from it, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands. He closed his eyes and Tris saw the lines of tension on his face smooth away. But after a moment his eyebrows drew together once again. Ormur opened his eyes and shook his head
.

  “I still cannot shift form.” He put the amulet back over Tris’s head and settled it on his chest, fingers brushing briefly over bare skin. “You look pale.”

  “The Earl has the other. The one he used to call you in the first place. And he says he can do magic, so maybe that’s the key.

  Ormur sighed wearily. “So many keys to find.”

  “You’re right,” Tris said stoutly. “We have to go back.”

  “I’m going back alone,” Ormur said. “You’ve done enough.”

  “A job half-done is no good at all, my ma always says.” He felt incredibly daring as he took Ormur’s hand. “Let me help you see this through.”

  Ormur didn’t pull his hand away and let it stay clasped, warm and solid, in Tris’s. “Your mother has a saying for every occasion it seems. Does she have any advice for going back to a place I loathe, to face a sorcerer who wants my very blood and bones?”

  Tris wracked his brain. “Maybe, ‘stop yapping and get on with it’?”

  Ormur nodded. “Truly one of the great sages.”

  Ormur said he could hear the sounds of a stream nearby and he helped Tris to stand. There was a brief moment of light-headedness as he got to his feet, but it passed after Ormur gave him the last of the cheese to eat. Really, Tris could see the appeal of magical amulets. Too bad they apparently required killing a lot of dragons to make.

  They walked among the trees down to the small brook. Ormur, after he was certain Tris wasn’t about to fall over, let go of his arm. Tris missed his touch — he’d grown used to it in such a short time — and he couldn’t help but look over at Ormur every few steps.

  “Are you going to stare at me to the point where you trip over a tree root?”

  “Maybe. I just can’t believe it.” His words tumbled over each other. “I mean, I thought maybe at first, but then as time went on, I told myself you couldn’t be… A dragon, I mean.”

  “I gathered your meaning.”

  Tris knelt beside the stream to wash off the last of the dried blood and the dust of the road. He also scrubbed half-heartedly at his shirt — the bloodstain wasn’t coming out, but he didn’t have anything else. He’d just have to keep his coat done up over it, if they ever made it to the town. Ormur rinsed his own hands and splashed water over his face and, after a moment, rubbed at some presumably dirty spots on Tris’s back. The water was cold, but Ormur’s hands were warm and Tris allowed himself to enjoy the contrasting sensations.

  Still, he couldn’t help but peer curiously at Ormur. “How come you don’t talk like a dragon?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The other dragon I met. He talked all fancy. Very proper.” Not that he’d ever exchanged more than a word or two with Ejoler, but he’d made Lily describe their every interaction in great detail.

  Ormur rolled his eyes. “I’ve lived among humans a long time. I know how to disguise myself. I don’t feel the need to announce my superiority at every moment.”

  “Aye, you’re definitely a modest sort of fellow. But why not be around other dragons all the time? I would if I could.”

  “Well, you’re very strange, but the truth is I don’t like dragons. They’re as dull as the rocks they eventually turn into — with their love of treasure and resistance to change. I’m not alone in the sentiment. We dragons don’t enjoy each other’s company.”

  Tris started to put his damp shirt back on, but Ormur stopped him. “Humans get sick far too easily, it’s best not to take the chance, even with the amulet.”

  He stripped off the sweater he wore and handed it to Tris.

  “You’re just going to walk around like that?” Tris’s voice cracked a little as his eyes drifted over Ormur’s bare chest.

  “The cold doesn’t bother me.” Tris was entirely focused on his dark nipples. Ormur gave a long-suffering sigh and slipped the stained shirt on. “Better?”

  “I guess.” Tris frowned as his brain started working again. “Except— Dragons must like each other, well, sometimes.”

  Ormur raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking about sex? Dragons don’t fuck each other, they mate. It’s all very purposeful and boring. I do my best to avoid it.”

  “But I mean, obviously you’ve done stuff before. You know what you’re doing.” Tris splashed more water on his face to cover his flushing cheeks. “The way you talked that time.”

  Ormur leaned closer, his breath hot in Tris’s ear. ”You mean the way I told you to touch yourself until you came?”

  Tris turned toward him, but Ormur shifted out of reach to regard him with a smirk.

  Tris swallowed. “Exactly that. So you’ve been with people before? Human people, I mean.”

  Ormur examined his hand as though it was more interesting than the subject. “One must find ways to pass the time. Sex can be a better way than others.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing, since you don’t like other dragons, that you like being around humans.”

  “You assume a great deal.”

  “C’mon, if you spent so much time around humans — willingly — there must be something about us you like.”

  Ormur’s lip curled and ticked off points on his fingers. “Humans are good for fucking. They write books. And there are certain cooked foods — not anything that I’ve had recently — that I actually enjoy.”

  “That’s three,” Tris said. “Not bad, all things considered.”

  Ormur stared at him and then he did something that Tris had never seen him do — he laughed.

  The sharp planes of his face crinkled into something impish and carefree. “You are a very unexpected creature, Tris. I really don’t know what to make of you.”

  “What you see is what you get, I suppose.” He didn’t add that was something else his ma always said, because he was very much hoping that Ormur would kiss him beside the burbling brook and among the green-smelling trees and he didn’t think mentioning his mother would help with that.

  But Ormur only looked at him very seriously. “Yes, it is. That’s very rare in both humans and dragons.”

  He stood up and stared off in the direction of the mansion, and it seemed there would be no kissing after all.

  They made their way back to the road, moving cautiously, and stopping often to listen for any human sounds. But when they reached the spot, there was no sign of Marius, just the marks on the ground where they had fought and fallen.

  Tris was glad, even though he worried that it meant Marius would be waiting for them back at the house. He’d never killed anyone, or had someone killed because of him, and didn’t want to know what it felt like.

  Ormur, however, stared down at the stained dirt with a dark expression. Tris had to admit that the amount of blood he’d spilled was impressive. It was mostly dried to a dull rust color, but flies buzzed over a few sticky patches. Ormur said nothing and after a moment he spun on his heel and started back down the road.

  Tris trotted along trying to match his long strides. “We should keep to the trees. And probably wait until nightfall to go into the house.”

  Ormur stopped abruptly enough that Tris bumped into him. The eyes Ormur turned to him were so fierce that Tris took a step back.

  “You should know, once I get the amulet, I am going to burn that place to ashes. Do not try to stop me.”

  Tris nodded. “I wouldn’t.”

  It seemed like Ormur was going to say something else, but he nodded curtly and turned away.

  They watched the mansion from the safety of the surrounding trees until the sun set. There didn’t seem to be much going on outside — Yonah chopped wood and took a few buckets of water from the spring to the house, but that was it. Of course, inside could be an entirely different matter. Marius could be sharpening blades and the Earl conjuring up… whatever one conjured. Tris really didn’t know much about magic, except that it wasn’t supposed to be real.

  He worried about what the amulet in the Earl’s possession could do to Ormur and showed that worry by asking
how he was feeling one too many times. Ormur finally ordered Tris to hide behind a different tree. Tris soothed his nerves by chewing on some venison jerky he found at the bottom of his bag.

  With a glance to make sure that Ormur was looking at the house and not at him, Tris ran a hand over his stomach. That was another worry. He’d been dying — he was sure of it, what with all the blood, pain, and feeling of overwhelming weariness — and now he was perfectly fine. It was strange to think that he’d been fixed by magic. Some folk would say that it was unnatural. Bad even. But then folk would say that about lots of things. Tris had been looking for dragons for years after all, and the general opinion was that they were monsters.

  He looked at Ormur again, trying not to be obvious about it. The man was a dragon! Somehow those long-fingered hands could turn into curved claws. Ormur’s white, even teeth would lengthen into a mouthful of sharpness. His lushly plump lips — well, dragons didn’t really have much in the way of lips did they?

  Tris shook himself a little, glad to have something to distract himself from what had turned into an unexpectedly heated list of Ormur’s features. He wanted to ask Ormur what he looked like as a dragon, but the other man was focused on the house, and so Tris was left to his imaginings.

  Finally, as the light faded and the calls of night birds filled the air, Ormur moved to crouch beside him and pointed to the house and the cliff face behind it.

  “We could climb the cliff,” Ormur said, “and go in from one of the windows on the upper floors.” Tris looked at him askance. “What? I thought you would appreciate the stealth involved in the plan.”

  Tris checked the pockets of his coat. He held up the ring of keys he’d stolen from Helda. “Or we could just walk in? The kitchen door is in the back so it’s still kinda sneaky.”

  The house looked dark from the outside, but when they let themselves into the kitchen there was the light of a single candle on a table. And beside it was Helda, slicing an apple with a small knife.