In Pursuit of Dragons

by Anne Renwick

  “We need to hurry.” Luke caught at her hand, yanking her thoughts back to their most-pressing situation.

  Together they dashed back through the castle’s gate‌—‌locking it behind them‌—‌and into the kitchens where Zia paced, unsettled, beside the brazier and her three eggs, well aware that today’s activities were anything but routine. Her tongue flicked as she rushed toward them with unusual speed and reared back to drop her clawed front feet on Luke’s thighs.

  “It’s okay.” He stroked a hand over her head. “You’ll love the mountains, the rocks. So much more interesting than a boring castle. A new home. A new friend.” He grinned. “With luck and a handful of years, perhaps grand-dragonets.”

  Natalia snorted. It was a few hours travel up the River Teith to Callander, their gateway into the highlands and, from there, the Trossachs. Not that either of them expected to reach it before their hasty departure was discovered. Odds were trouble would arrive long before they reached the small village.

  She lifted the heavy coal scuttle‌—‌lined as it was with river stones heated for the first leg of their journey‌—‌that held Zia’s clutch and turned toward the stairway that led downward to the postern door in the curtain wall. Slinging their rucksack across his shoulder, Luke hefted the brazier and its carefully banked fire and followed.

  A quick turn of the iron key in the door, and they stepped outside the relative safety of the castle’s walls and struck out upon the path that led to the river’s edge. Low-hanging branches caught at her hair, at the braid she’d carefully plaited and re-pinned about the crown of her head. Though she hurried, she was careful not to trip upon rocks and roots that jutted from the uneven ground at her feet. Dropping her precious cargo was not an option.

  A few minutes later she stopped at the river’s edge, searching for the boat Luke swore he’d examined last night while she slept. He slipped past and began tossing aside a layer of cut branches and underbrush to reveal their escape vessel: a small dinghy‌—‌its wood so old and rough they were certain to end with splinters. An odd‌—‌and equally old‌—‌motor was bolted to its stern. Everything would fit, but without much room to spare. He tossed their rucksack into the boat, beside a reassuring cache of assorted weapons, then shoved the boat halfway into the shallow water that rushed past.

  Holding her hand, Luke steadied her while she stepped into the boat as it wobbled on its keel. It would be fine, her mind insisted, once they were out on the water. Providing it didn’t leak. Or the motor didn’t seize.

  Luke caught her curious glance. “A modified Trouvé outboard. A bit rusty, but I was able to coax it back to life.” He lifted Zia into the dinghy, then very carefully placed the brazier and the coal scuttle into the hull. “Hang on.”

  He gave the boat a great shove, and then leapt onto it as the current caught it, turning the vessel downstream toward Stirling. Away from the Trossachs. Natalia caught up the oars, straightening them, doing what she could to keep them from drifting too far while Luke cranked the flywheel. A moment later, the engine roared to life, and he dropped onto a seat, gripped the tiller, and steered them upstream. She tucked away the oars and turned her attention to their weapons cache.

  Clipping her quiver to her belt, she caught up her crossbow. When they were discovered‌—‌for it was inevitable, especially given the din of the outboard motor‌—‌arrows would be their first and best line of defense. She notched one in place, careful to avoid its metal-tipped point as she cranked the tension spring.

  Only then did she look up. The rising sun illuminated the flowing river with a brilliant, golden light. A beautiful dawn in a cloudless sky. Excellent for spotting an approaching enemy.

  Still, despite her intended vigilance, Natalia’s gaze drifted downward to Luke. His thick, dark hair blew in the wind, while the rising sun threw the planes of his face into both light and shadow. She marveled at the ripple of muscle beneath fabric. At the complete and total restoration of his strength.

  His eyes danced when he caught hers, and he grinned. Desire sparked inside of her as she returned his smile. There was no denying the exhilaration that accompanied an infusion of dragon stem cells. She’d certainly enjoyed the sexual potency they’d bestowed upon him.

  A screech tore through the air, and a dark silhouette appeared in the sky. Pteryformes. Zia opened her mouth, echoing the call with her own primal cry before draping herself over the scuttle that held her clutch, wings outstretched.

  Dammit, she’d hoped for more time. Ivanov and Dimitri must have set a watch to have discovered William’s departure so quickly, to have questioned him, to have already redirected their attention back to Castle Kinlarig and its surrounds.

  Tempting as it was to turn toward the shore in anticipation of a fight, open water was their best hope of gaining an advantage; when the pteryformes swooped toward them, she could take better aim without trees to block her sight. Luke’s shoulders tensed. Wrapping rope about the tiller, he lashed the outboard motor in place and pointed the boat directly up the river, buying them a few minutes of hands-free navigation before they reached the first bend.

  He dragged forth a long rifle and proceeded to breech-load a bullet into the weapon.

  Her jaw dropped. “How did you find bullets?” she called. She’d hunted throughout the castle, hoping to find a stash. Even offering a silver tea set to the townspeople in trade for a handful of bullets. But they were nowhere to be found.

  “In the pockets of Rathail’s hunter,” he called back over the noise of the engine.

  Of course. She should have thought to look.

  Regardless, the crossbow was her weapon. Hours upon hours spent in the castle courtyard at target practice. She’d skewered one man, why not a flying reptile?

  As the shadow of its great wings passed overhead, she squinted and took aim. “On the right!” she yelled, claiming her mark. Though she had little chance of hitting Dimitri from this angle, nothing would please her more than to drop his ride from underneath him.

  Luke too had a score to settle, but he pointed his rifle toward the beast on the left, aiming for Ivanov and leaving Dimitri to her. Pride swelled in her chest. In this fight they were well-matched, each counting on the other’s skills to elude capture.

  Bullets splashed into the water beside them; the report of gunfire followed.

  Thwack. Her arrow flashed through the sky and tore a hole through the Dimitri’s mount’s leathery wing. She cursed. Not enough damage to slow the flying reptile. There was nothing to do but pray the tip of the arrow had sent enough venom burning through its wing to discourage cooperation with its handler.

  Bang. Ivanov screamed as Luke’s bullet hit its mark.

  Round one fell to them.

  Luke reloaded.

  She notched another arrow as the pteryformes banked and turned, swooping lower this time. Again, she aimed for the only spot that might prove vulnerable on the oversized, featherless bird: where wing met body.

  Bullets slammed into the wood of their boat, shattered slivers erupted into the air. The boat rocked, and Zia bellowed her displeasure at the threat to her clutch.

  Thwack. Bang. They both fired at once. A bullet struck Dimitri, but he held fast as his beast circled higher into the sky. The arrow, however, tore through the second creature’s forearm, and Ivanov’s pteryform screamed, rearing away and crashing into the trees along the bank, ripping its rider from its back. Ivanov fell, striking the riverbank with a thud, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. A dark glee rushed through her at the fitting death of a vile man who had so casually and coldly thought to put a convenient end to Luke’s life.

  “A brilliantly placed arrow,” Luke said, flashing her an approving smile that made her heart swell with pride. “One down.”

  But there was no time to enjoy their victory; the first bend of the river approached. Luke tossed his rifle aside, then cut the engine. They would not crash headlong into the riverbank, but they now lost the advantage of speed, of controlling�
��—‌to some degree‌—‌their direction. Silence descended as the boat began to drift slowly downstream.

  Luke lifted a finely-honed rapier and slid a dagger from his belt. “Only three bullets remained in the dead hunter’s pocket.” The gold flecks in his eyes glinted. “Worth hauling that rifle along, however, if only to injure that bastard, Kravchuk.”

  The final pteryform aloft turned, circling back toward them.

  Momentary elation quickly faded and was replaced by renewed fear. The danger was not at all past. “Be careful,” she begged. “Dimitri might want to capture me alive, but he won’t spare a second thought for your life.”

  “He needs to be killed,” Luke stated flatly. “He can’t be allowed to escape, to return to Russia with news of anything, including our location.”

  “Agreed.” With a glance at Zia, at the eggs, Natalia reassured herself of their relative safety, then braced her legs and lifted her crossbow once more. Icy resolve steeled her spine as she prepared to take down her former fiancé before his mount flew close enough that Luke would find a use for his sword.

  With a blood-curdling cry, the winged reptile folded its wings, obscuring Dimitri‌—‌her would-be target‌—‌and dove.

  Luke swore and lifted his blade. “Does he mean to sink us?”

  “Possibly.”

  Correcting for speed, distance, drift and wind, Natalia took her best shot. And missed. Before she could reload, a flash of light glinted off silver metal, and Dimitri dropped onto their boat with a crash, blade in hand. “I’ve come for what is rightfully mine,” he snarled.

  “I belong to no one save myself,” Natalia replied, chin lifted. “And a dragon should never be subjected to your oversight.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  The boat rocked violently, scattering hot coals from the brazier as Dimitri stomped over the cache of weapons, intent on slicing Luke’s neck. Natalia dropped her crossbow and bent to draw a knife from her boot‌—‌one she could throw‌—‌all while reaching with her free hand to splash river water into the boat. A hiss of steam rose into the air. Fire averted, she waited, watching for an opening to enter the fray, but Luke and Zia stood between her and the Russian. Heart in her throat, she reached for the coal scuttle, helping Zia to drag the precious eggs away from the fight.

  Luke deflected the first attack with relative ease, and shock rippled across Dimitri’s face. “What is this?” he asked, brow furrowed. Assured of easy prey by Ivanov’s poisoned blade, the Russian had dropped onto their boat unprepared to struggle for a victory. She hoped it was a fatal mistake.

  With a roar, Luke attacked.

  Blades clanged and slashed through the air, with Luke’s newfound strength lending him the upper hand as the boat drifted ever closer to the shore. Slash! Blood bloomed on Dimitri’s shirt. Rip! The Russian retaliated, slicing though the cloth covering Luke’s thigh. Blood seeped forth.

  The battle raged on.

  Zia lunged, sinking her venom-laced teeth into Dimitri’s ankle. The Russian yelled, striking out at the beast latched to his boot as Luke took aim at Dimitri’s side. The boat rocked, nearly tipping them all into the river.

  An opening. But as Natalia adjusted her grip on the hilt of her knife, preparing to throw, a dark shadow swooped low. With a rush of cool air, Dimitri’s pteryform stretched out a clawed leg. But not to save its master or to carry away the man battling against him. Instead, it snatched the handle of the coal scuttle, lifting the dragon eggs into the sky.

  “No!” But her scream was futile. Somehow that cursed beast had recognized the precious cargo they carried.

  With a blood-curdling howl, Zia launched herself from the boat and into the river. Splash. Her short legs churned furiously and her small wings flapped as she swam the short distance to the shore in desperate pursuit of her young.

  Dread clawed at Natalia’s throat. If the beast dropped its plunder, there was no chance the tiny dragonets‌—‌still within their leathery shells‌—‌would survive. Rage blazed as she narrowed her gaze back upon the man who had‌—‌with cold-hearted intent‌—‌set in motion the events that brought them to this desperate day.

  Rage pounded in her ears, but with the pteryform in the sky, there was nothing to be done. Save end the man who had initiated this attack.

  Thud. The dingy bumped, then scraped along the edge of the river. Catching on unseen rocks and debris beneath the water’s surface, it began to tip onto its side.

  “Go!” Luke yelled.

  She leapt from the boat and into mud. Luke vaulted to land beside her. Together they ran up the riverbank, over the rocks and weeds, seeking solid footing.

  Dimitri followed.

  The sword fight resumed, and the clang of blades rang through the woods as the two men attacked and parried, occasionally grappling in close quarters or drawing blood. Neither managed to land a serious wound, though she could see Dimitri weakening from the dragon venom.

  Crouching, blade in hand, Natalia waited. She threw occasional glances at the sky, watching with her heart in her throat, to track where the pteryform might land. It was circling the field just beyond the copse of trees beside them. Should it land, there might still be hope that they could rescue the eggs.

  Luke shifted his approach and attacked, forcing Dimitri to dodge sideways and driving him backward. Toward her. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. He was offering her the chance to extract her revenge. For her injury, her father’s death, her exile. And for hurting the man she loved.

  Now.

  With ice in her veins she lunged, slicing deeply through the muscles of Dimitri’s back. He screamed as blood welled, then stumbled. As he struggled for balance, realization washed over his face. He could no longer hope to fend them both off. Not with dragon venom pumping through his veins. All but dead, yet still on his feet, he turned his back on Luke and locked his heated gaze on her.

  “Why so much hate? Why couldn’t you just let us go?” she yelled. Her muscles shook with emotion, with a need to understand.

  “If only you’d had the decency to die when you fell from that cave, I wouldn’t have had to spend the last three years living under your father’s shadow.” A sneer pulled at his lips. “You and your father’s foolish altruism held us all back, when so much power easily lay within our grasp. He should have shared the potential of his work. With me.”

  Dimitri charged.

  She lifted her blade and stood her ground.

  Fffftt! Luke’s blade pierced Dimitri’s torso‌—‌from back to front.

  Eyes wide, the Russian staggered, wrapping his hands about the blade that protruded from his chest, as if he might manage to pry it free and resume the fight. But blood welled in his mouth and trickled from its corners. He stumbled. Snap! The thin blade broke in two. With a look of shock, he collapsed to the ground.

  Natalia stood, shaking. The man who had betrayed her father, who had tortured the man she loved, was dead. A man she’d once thought to marry. Ought she feel something other than the cold pleasure of justice?

  It was over. Luke stared at the dead man lying on the ground waiting to feel something. Relief? Remorse? Elation? All he could summon was disgust. For the wasted opportunities and resources that Kravchuk had thrown away like a child who could never be satisfied, no matter the bounty laid at his feet.

  “Zia’s eggs!” Natalia yelled, tipping her face upward to search the trees above her. She stepped backward, tripping over Kravchuk’s body.

  Luke caught her, wrapped his arms about her waist and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. Aether, his heart nearly burst with love. She’d fought so bravely. “Eggs?”

  Finding her balance, she pointed behind him at the winged creature the Russian had ridden. “When Dimitri dropped onto the boat, the pteryform snatched away the coal scuttle!”

  Shit. Not over. His arms loosened their hold even as his muscles tensed, readying themselves for another battle.

  “The creature was circling, coming in for a landing
nearby, over there in the field. But‌—‌” Natalia’s hand fell upon his arm. “You seem fine, but you’re wounded.”

  “Mostly superficial cuts. We’ll see to them later.” He looked over her shoulder, searching through the undergrowth for the missing dragon. “That explains why Zia leapt from the boat.”

  There was a roar, followed by an ear-piercing shriek. An unmistakable sound of two enraged reptiles.

  “Zia!” Natalia cried.

  He and Natalia took off at a run. Just beyond the trees, a field opened before them where Zia snarled and gnashed her teeth, facing down a wounded pteryform some five times her size. The pteryform hissed and clawed the ground. Snapping, it lunged. But Zia darted out of reach, turning her head to spit venom onto the beast’s broadside. As the toxin frothed and bubbled atop its thick hide, a faint odor of sulfur‌—‌as if someone had struck a match‌—‌rose into the air.

  Zia was holding her own. He bit back his praise, lest he distract her.

  With a roar, the pteryform threw its head backward and let loose a furious cry.

  “There!” Natalia pointed.

  Behind the pteryform, the coal scuttle lay tipped upon its side. One egg was still nestled midst the warm stones. Two others had rolled free, their gold streaks glimmering in the sunlight.

  She grabbed at his hand, yanking him along as she crouched low to run behind the distracted pteryform, all but diving headlong into the undergrowth. Together, they half-walked, half-crawled along the edge of the field, skulking past the dueling creatures until they were only a few yards away from the dragon eggs.

  Without warning, Natalia dashed out from their sketchy cover and snatched up the handle of the coal scuttle, pulling it back into relative safety. One egg saved. But pteryformes had excellent hearing, and it turned on its hind legs with a roar, searching the underbrush to find another foe at its back. Stretching its neck, the creature took a step forward.