by Finley Aaron
I stopped.
No, no, no, no, no! That’s the last thing you’re supposed to do when yagi are around, because they let off these wailing noises that induce neurological paralysis if you stop moving long enough for them to take effect.
Which I apparently have.
The only thing I can move are my eyes. I’m half-turned, looking back over my shoulder as I did when I first caught a whiff of the yagi, and if I strain my eyes in that direction, I can see them coming.
I try to change into a dragon, but nothing happens. I’ve never not been able to change before. Do the yagi wails affect that, too? That would have been helpful to know ahead of time.
I’ve got to overcome this. I will my body to move. Come on! There has to be a way to make myself move, to overcome this stupid, stupid…how could I be so stupid?
In the distance, beyond the yagi, I can see Ion’s castle. He’s on the balcony. He sees me. For an instant, terror crosses his face, and then he disappears.
Pain shoots through my arm. For all the numbness of my paralysis, I feel the pain coursing through me with vehemence.
Suddenly Ion is in front of me, swords drawn, fighting the yagi off.
Did I miss something? I could have sworn he was on his balcony not a second ago. Even if he changed into a dragon and flew down here, that would take a good fraction of a minute, maybe a full minute or more.
And he’s still fully dressed in his smoking jacket, decapitating yagi all around me until the air is full of the stink of their noxious bodily fluids, and the wailing noise finally ceases, and I can move.
“Ahh!” My vocal chords finally free, I let loose a strangled scream that’s part pent-up fear, part pain from whatever happened to my arm. “My arm!”
“What’s wrong?” Ion casts one last look around to make sure there are no other yagi, then turns his full attention on me. “Your arm?”
My mouth is open in a silent scream of pain as I attempt to turn my arm to see the back side. Something cut me or grazed me or set the back of my arm on fire. It’s like a hundred zillion stinging nettles, except they’re not content to just sting the surface. The pain is shooting through me, down my arm and through my body.
Ion sets his swords down and takes gentle hold of my wrist, angling my arm so we can both see the gash in the moonlight.
He sniffs it.
A look passes over his face. I’d call it regret or horror, but it’s more like the pall of death. I didn’t know until I saw it on his face that the pall of death had a look, but there it is.
“What is it?”
“The yagi have a neurotoxin in the spines on their arms and legs.” Ion sounds sick, utterly sick.
I’ve heard of it, of course. I’ve been trained to avoid it. I should have avoided it. I know better, obviously. I mean, sure, we’ve always bested the yagi, and maybe I’ve underestimated how dangerous they really are because of that, but none of them have ever touched me before. None of them have ever touched any of us, because you can’t let them touch you, or something like this might happen.
“They injected their venom into my arm?” I ask, meeting Ion’s eyes.
“Yes.” He drops my arm and pulls off his jacket.
“But, it’s fatal. It’s always fatal. It killed my grandmother, my parents’ dog, some old dragon my sister-in-law knew…” My voice fades.
Ion’s stripping off his shirt. For a second or two I wonder if maybe he’s going to use the shirt as a tourniquet, or something. But mostly I’m thinking that I’m going to die.
I’m going to die.
I have, at best, a few days left to live.
This is not going to improve relations between Ion and my parents.
Ion’s stripped down to his boxer shorts. “I’m going to turn into a dragon. Can you hold on to my back?”
I want to change into a dragon, to show him that it’s not necessary for him to carry me, but when I try, nothing happens. It’s just like when I tried to change when the yagi wails had frozen me, except I’m not frozen now, but I still can’t change.
“I can’t change into a dragon!” I gasp, panting from the failed effort.
“It’s the neurotoxin.” Ion doesn’t look surprised. “Can you hang on to my back? We should hurry before more yagi arrive.”
“Right. Okay. Sure.” Pain is still radiating out from my arm with an intensity that blurs my thoughts.
Ion changes into a dragon. He’s a gorgeous dragon, a magnificent silvery green, the scales of his back dark like aged copper, his belly almost as white as the scars that mar it. He gathers up his swords and clothes, then crouches down near me. I do my best to climb on, but my injured arm is nearly useless, and it’s all I can do to hold on tight with my good arm while he flies us back to his castle, landing on the balcony outside the ballroom.
There he changes back into a human, opens the double glass doors, and strides inside.
I follow, shuffling slowly, still stunned by all that happened.
Ion pulls down one mammoth set of silk curtains before walking back over to me, dragging them behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I need you to trust me. We’re going to have to hurry. I don’t have time to explain everything. Once the neurotoxin enters your system, it’s only a matter of time before it takes its full effect.”
“I’m going to die.” If I’m whimpering a little, that’s understandable, right? Because the pain shooting through me is crazy intense, and also I don’t want to die.
“Listen.” Ion places his hands gently on my shoulders. “I believe there is an antidote to the venom. I’ve tried before to get Eudora to tell me what it was, but she wouldn’t. We’re going to go to Eudora now and ask her how to heal you.”
“Why would she tell you now, when she hasn’t ever before?”
“I didn’t have anything to bargain with before.”
“How is that different from now?”
“Now I have you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
This neurotoxin stuff must be potent, because I have no idea what Ion is saying. I could have sworn he just said he’s going to use me to bargain with Eudora for the antidote to the poison that’s killing me.
I look Ion full in the eyes and clarify. “You’re going to use me to bargain with Eudora for the antidote to the poison that’s killing me?”
“Venom.” Ion says.
Yup, I’ve gone nutters.
“Venom?” I repeat.
“It’s a venom, not a poison. Poison is ingested, venom is injected. Now, stand still. I’m going to wrap you in these curtains.”
“Does the poi—venom—destroy my ability to think?”
“Not that I know of. Why do you ask?” Ion places the bottom hem of the curtains lengthwise against my body, and starts wrapping me up like a giant cocoon.
“Nothing makes sense. You’re wrapping me in curtains?”
“I’ve got to fly with you to Eudora’s castle. You were barely able to hold on for the short flight here, so I’m going to carry you in my feet, but I don’t want my talons to hurt you. Also, the curtains will keep you warm. Does that make sense?” As he’s talking, Ion whips the fabric behind and in front of me again and again until I’m wrapped up like some kind of mummy.
“I guess.”
“That’s not too tight, is it?”
“It’s fine.”
“You’re not claustrophobic?”
“I’m a little apprehensive about being immobilized by curtains while visiting my arch-enemy to beg her for the antidote to the venom that’s killing me,” I admit.
Ion stops wrapping and meets my eyes. The tiniest smile is playing with his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with your head. Or your sense of humor.”
“That wasn’t humor.”
The tiny smile becomes slightly less tiny. His eyes twinkle. “I really do enjoy you.”
It’s the closest he’s come to admitting he cares for me, but he doesn’t hold my gaze long enough for me
to respond. Instead he picks me up and carries me back out onto the balcony. There he places me gently on the ground before changing into a dragon, plucking me up with his clawed feet, and flying off with me into the night.
We arrive at Eudora’s castle minutes later. I’m doing my best to try not to freak out, because I’m pretty sure if I freak out, that will only raise my heartrate and send the venom coursing through my body even faster, which I don’t think is a good thing. Anyway, they say with rattlesnake bites you’re supposed to stay calm and keep the bite-affected area of the body immobilized, so I’m treating the yagi venom the same way.
Still, it’s taking all my focus to stay calm as Ion lands on a balcony not so very different from the balcony we just took off from. He switches back into a human and carries me, still swathed in yellow silk, into the castle like a baby or plague victim or what have you.
Not freaking out. Nope.
“Eudora!” Ion shouts as he carries me through the dark halls. He must know his way around, because in a short while we enter a big room, and Eudora’s there, too. I can’t turn my head to see because I’m mostly immobilized by the curtains, so I don’t know if she was already there or came to meet us when she heard Ion calling her name.
“Your yagi have inflicted their venom on this innocent one,” Ion explains, still holding me.
“My yagi only attack dragons.” Eudora counters. Her voice is heavily accented, but it’s not the same accent as Ion’s. Hers is more, I don’t know, Eastern European, maybe?
“She is a dragon.”
“Then she’s not innocent.” Eudora steps closer. I can hear her heels clicking against the floor. Then she gasps. “This is a daughter of Ram and Ilsa!”
Vengeance and rage simmer under her words, sending a shiver down my spine. I’ve always heard that Eudora hates my mom on account of my mom turned Eudora from being a dragon, to being only human (but my mom was using Eudora’s own dark magic against her, on account of Eudora was trying to turn my mom into only human, so it’s not like my mom did it just to be mean).
I’d also always heard that Ion hated us, though, so I was holding out a little hope that maybe Eudora’s level of hatred had been exaggerated.
No such luck.
“She is mine! Giver her to me!” Eudora seethes, in a voice that totally makes me understand where she got the nickname the white witch.
“She’s going to die if she doesn’t get an antidote soon. She’s no good to you dead.” Ion pauses. “Do you have the antidote?”
“No.”
I can hear Eudora’s heels clacking on the floor. Is she pacing? I can’t see her because of the way Ion’s holding me, with my head mostly wrapped in curtain fabric and my face shielded on the sides by fabric. I don’t know how Eudora saw enough of me to recognize me, unless she identified me by scent.
Can she do that?
And where’s the antidote?
Is there even an antidote?
How did I get myself into this mess?
I should have listened to Jala. She told me my plan was too dangerous, but I was thinking the dangers were maybe getting yelled at or having to change into a dragon to escape. Worst case scenario, I thought maybe I might have to fight Ion in dragon form.
No biggie.
And now what? I’m going to die, and Eudora doesn’t even have an antidote that can help me?
I dropped my phone on the trail. It’s out there somewhere, in the place where the yagi attacked me. I don’t have any way to call Jala and apologize for not listening to her.
Eudora’s heels stop clacking. She laughs this wicked, greedy laugh, and then I feel the pressure of something like a hand touching the curtain where it’s wrapped around my shoulders. “Life for life,” she hisses. “I can tell you where to find the antidote, in exchange for the girl.”
Yes, she seriously hissed.
“She isn’t any good to you dead.” Ion’s voice is firm. I can’t see much of his face, either, from this angle. Just mostly his chin. But he looks like he’s clenching his jaw, like he’s going to stand his ground on this one.
“No, that’s true. That’s true.” Eudora cackles.
I’m not kidding. She cackled.
“There’s only one solution.” Eudora’s strumming her fingertips together near my head, and I can hear clicking noises as her fingernails strike each other like tiny spears. “You’ll have to heal her and bring her back to me.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll do it, then?” Eudora sounds gleeful—in a bad way.
“I have no choice. If you don’t tell me where to find the antidote, she’ll die.”
“Promise me then—promise! You’ll bring her back once she’s healed.”
“I promise.” Ion doesn’t even hesitate. “Now tell me—the antidote.”
Eudora launches into this long description about how the yagi are bred from Madagascar cockroaches, which normally eat this one flower in the wild, and that neutralizes their neurotoxin, which is why the regular cockroaches don’t kill people with their barbs. And she shows Ion pictures of the plant and explains that she tried to grow it in Siberia but it needs the sunshine and climate and soil type from Madagascar, and blah, blah, blah…
I’m sort of listening, but mostly I’m thinking that Ion betrayed me. Did you catch that part? I did. He promised to bring me back to Eudora, to turn me over to my enemy, that cackling, hissing witch, as soon as I recover.
He didn’t even have to think about it.
Pretty soon Eudora’s done explaining about the plant and how Ion is supposed to crush the flowers and put them on my injury and they’ll suck the venom out, or neutralize it, or something, and then Ion turns to leave. He’s gone about three steps when Eudora calls after him, “Ion?”
“Yes?”
“Life for life. I’ll give you ten days to make the trip, find the antidote, heal her, and return. Ten days. If you don’t return with her in ten days,” she pauses meaningfully, and her voice drops to a menacing tone. “I’ll come for you.”
“Of course.”
We reach the balcony and Ion turns into a dragon and takes off, and after that, everything is one long blur, mostly because the neurotoxin is coursing through me, and all I can do is sleep, waking now and then when Ion has set down in some remote place and hunted some food, and he’s urging me to eat and drink, and feeling my forehead with his icy cold fingers, and I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m pretty sure it’s going to be bad.
And then I don’t know how much later—days, it’s got to be, for him to fly, carrying me, all the way to Madagascar. The next thing I know, he’s pressing something against the red hot pain that is my arm—something cool, almost cold. And then he binds my arm with the coolness pressed tight against it.
I drink a bit of the water he cups in his hands for me, and then I sleep.
When I awake again, Ion is doing something with my arm. I gasp in pain.
“Does it still hurt?” Ion asks.
“Hurt?” I try to think of a way to describe the pain—the intensity, the way it shoots from my arm like it wants to take over the rest of my body. The way I wish I could crawl away from it, but it’s a part of me, so there’s nowhere I can go. “Yes. It hurts so bad.”
“Maybe I didn’t get here in time,” Ion mutters softly, so softly I can barely make out the words, and even then, I doubt he meant me to hear.
I try to reassure him. “Maybe you have to give it some time. How long has it been?”
“Almost two days.”
“Two days with the plant on my arm?” It doesn’t feel like it’s been two days, but maybe that’s a good thing because it means I slept through it, unaware of the pain. “Maybe you should put fresh flowers on there.”
“I’ve been changing the compress every two hours.”
“For two days?” I can’t help thinking that’s a lot of work he’s been doing, besides flying me here, and all just to turn me over to Eudora again. It doesn’t fit. “Ho
w long since we left Eudora’s castle?”
“A little over four days. I flew straight through, only stopped briefly to rest and eat when I thought I’d drop you if I didn’t.”
“Four days, almost five? And we’ve got to make it back in ten?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
I stare at him. I’m more awake now than I was when this conversation began, and I’m aware of a few things. One, we’re in the jungle. I’m sitting in a billowy bed of pale yellow silk window curtain, almost like Thumbelina sleeping in a flower, except I don’t smell that great after four days of fever sweats. It’s broad daylight but we’re in the shade, and Ion’s pressed a bunch of munched up white flowers against the injury on my arm, which hurts like you would not believe.
Oh, and he seems to think I’m not going to worry about the part where I get turned over to the mad scientist evil arch-enemy witch woman in six days.
Not happening.
“If you don’t bring me back ten days after we left, she’ll come for you.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know. She said life for life. That sounds pretty bad. Maybe she’ll unleash her yagi on you. She did that to my sister-in-law, Nia. There were thousands of yagi after her. They were relentless. You don’t want that.”
“I’m not turning you over to her.” Ion states bluntly.
I’m baffled. Maybe my head is still woozy from the fever, but it feels clearer, other than this incomprehensible statement from Ion, which completely contradicts everything he said when Eudora agreed to tell him about the antidote. “You told her you’d bring me back.”
“I know I said I would, but I’m not actually going to.”
“But—you promised.”
“They were only words, Zilpha. Words to get me what I needed. Eudora should know by now, a promise from me isn’t worth anything.”
My mouth sort of falls open. Where I come from, a promise is a promise. Ion’s words feel so empty, even rueful. I can’t get past it. “But you…” the protest dies in my throat as Ion looks at me levelly and meets my eyes.