Plight of the Dragon

by Debra Kristi

  Maybe it was her imagination, but a few of the people wandering their direction down the lane appeared to be heading straight for them, and staring right at her. A red-haired man caught her attention, and her insides tightened. She realized her mouth was agape and snapped it shut.

  She wanted to grab Sebastian’s hand and flee the area, but already knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t. Whatever instinct fluttered inside of her telling her to run, an equally, more powerful one punched at the flutter and yelled at her to stay, face the fear. Even if she had no idea what it was she feared. Others in the crowd must have sensed it, too, as they moved to the sides, allowing the approaching strangers a large berth.

  “We are taking the boy to forked cells at the Devil’s Eye now.”

  Kyra snapped to and turned on her mother. “Not if I have anything to say in the matter.”

  “Kyra.” Ryhuu brushed her arm, only this time, there was a gentleness in the gesture.

  She jerked away, crinkling her brow at him. “Who are you to insinuate yourself into these matters?” Her gaze moved to Sebastian’s tired and beaten presence, then to her mother’s slight shoulder shrug. There was a dynamic at play here she didn’t understand. What am I missing?

  “Don’t you remember me?” He reached for her hand. Again, she brushed him away.

  “The boy will be going with us,” Bolsvck said. “He shall be held in Mobürn until we are satisfied that he has given us all the information we desire, and deem him no longer necessary.”

  “I don’t agree,” Queen Shui was saying when Kyra stepped between them and addressed her father.

  “What does that mean?”

  “What do you think it means?” He spoke as if talking to a child in some sort of classroom exercise.

  Kyra’s hand twitched. She wanted to punch him. She knew exactly what going to Mobürn meant; she only wanted to hear him say the words, clearly and decisively, to her face. He was going to torture Sebastian. Torture, and then kill him. It was as if Bolsvck had poured a bucket of ice water on her. No, she was immensely colder than plain ice water. Her body temperature was absolutely frigid. And the stupid smirk on his face screamed challenge me. Maybe that was exactly what he wanted. Was he trying to provoke her?

  “Sir?” Bolsvck broke their gaze and turned, met an athletically built female with coppery-red hair. At her side, another sentry.

  Kyra pulled at a strand of her own hair. Hers was longer. The other girl’s was short, but long enough to have the sides pulled into a pony at the back, where it poked out like a pumpkin stub from her skull. The girl sneered at Kyra and handed Bolsvck a garment made of what looked to be a combination of faux leather and steel, but likely wasn’t. Kyra moved her gaze from the girl to the new item and studied it intently. Bolsvck replaced the Palm Reader’s banner, wrapping the new garment around his middle like a kilt.

  “Kyra?”

  Kyra jumped and met the gaze of a red-haired man, the other sentry. Her insides fluttered and back-stepped, and she back-stepped too. She had been staring at her father, and probably in a most inappropriate way. But she wanted to know what the kilt was made from. Dragon scales?

  “Kyra?”

  This time it was Sebastian who had spoken. She glanced over her shoulder, the reflection in his indigo eyes melted the frost plaguing her body. When she turned back, the red-haired man was standing right in front of her. Her breath got stuck in her throat.

  And then Ryhuu was right beside her, standing impossibly straight and proper. “She is not interested, Drakhögg. You should step away.”

  A diabolical smirk took over the redhead, Drakhögg, and he shoved Ryhuu in the chest. “She doesn’t want you, wet-meat. Drag your dragon ass back to your sinkhole ocean home, and stay there.”

  The darker man glared at Drakhögg and didn’t budge. He stood firm, a rather unreadable appearance upon his face.

  Drakhögg shoved Ryhuu in the chest a second time. “You’ll lose.”

  “Water will win,” Ryhuu said. “In the end, water always puts out the fire.”

  Drakhögg’s face lit up like an invigorated wrestler on steroids, and he leaned forward and exhaled in the other guy’s face. “You forget, Ryhuu. We are more than simple fire. We evaporate water. Kyra will make the right choice.”

  “Will you both stop talking about me like I’m not even here?” Kyra said, her voice rising in both pitch and tone. “Who are you to decide what I will or won’t do?” Turning away from them, she glanced back at Sebastian and silently mouthed, What are they talking about? Sebastian yanked at the men holding him hostage and nodded for her to join him.

  “Ryhuu is your intended,” Queen Shui said.

  Kyra snapped back around. “I’m supposed to marry that guy? Since when?”

  “Don’t listen to her.” Bolsvck brushed Queen Shui’s words aside with a wave of his hand. “It is Drakhögg with whom you shall be wed.” He slapped the redhead on the back and beamed with what appeared to be a mixture of pride and satisfaction.

  “Both of you have arranged marriages for me?” Kyra backed away from them, backed up until Sebastian’s arms clamped around her own. “No wonder I can’t remember any of you. I’ve chosen to block it all out.”

  Both her parents spoke in protest at once.

  “I suggest you give the girl some time to absorb this new information.”

  All heads turned to the side, where an old man stood smoking his bull-headed pipe.

  “What do you know, old man?” Drakhögg asked, an angry bite in his voice.

  Both Bolsvck and Queen Shui rose a hand to hush the overly bold Fire Dragon. “Show Zeke the utmost of respect,” Bolsvck said to Drakhögg. Drakhögg shook his head, rolled his eyes. Kyra stared at the new arrival, with his dark skin, white eyes, cane, tweed jacket, and little cap. There was something oddly familiar about him. If only she could… She searched her memory. Searched and searched and searched, but she came up blank. She let out a sigh.

  “I know more than you would think,” Zeke said. “Would you mind?” He motioned toward Kyra and Sebastian. Both Bolsvck and Queen Shui stepped to the side, allowing Zeke an uncluttered pathway. A girl stepped to his side, and together they walked toward Kyra, the girl gently guiding Zeke’s way. When he stood before Kyra, he softly patted her cheek. “My dear, you have been through so much.” He tilted his head toward Sebastian. “Might I suggest a ride on the carousel?”

  Bolsvck stepped forward, his chest pushed out. Queen Shui stood behind him, stern and concerned tells crackling her face. “Are you suggesting the two of them go enjoy the carnival…together?” Bolsvck asked. “I will not have my daughter tramping around with that.” He tossed a hand in their direction.

  Zeke laughed, a mild and reassuring sound.

  “Are you mocking me, sir?” Bolsvck stepped closer.

  “I assure you, I am not.” Zeke turned to face the leader of the Fire Dragons. “I fully understand and respect your customs and beliefs.” He rubbed his chin with his thumb. “I only wonder if it might benefit all parties if Kyra retrieved her memories.”

  The group fell silent, and Kyra’s gaze wandered from her mother to her father, then over to Ryhuu and Drakhögg.

  It was Sebastian who cut through the wordless moment. “You know how to restore Kyra’s memory?”

  “I may.” Zeke swiveled slowly with his cane planted firmly in the dirt. “I may not. Like I said, fancy a ride on the carousel?”

  Kyra spun around and grabbed Sebastian’s arms, clasping at the elbows. Her eyes widened, and her breath was deep. “Do I want to remember? Because I think I do…if it means remembering you.”

  Sebastian leaned his forehead against hers, then spoke in hushed tones, as if to keep their words private. Kyra wondered if privacy were possible in their present company. “Good or bad, our memories make us who we are. I love the person you have become because of your vast experiences. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Kyra. You’re an amazing dragon, and an even more amazing woman. You put the gl
ow of the sun to shame.”

  Kyra’s skin tingled, and warmth blossomed in the core of her chest. In that moment, for him, she could fly. Her fingers sought his, weaving together until she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

  “How?” Kyra asked Zeke.

  “Follow Talia here.” Zeke’s hand wavered in the air to the young girl at his side. “She’ll show you what needs to be done.”

  “We can trust her,” Sebastian whispered at Kyra’s ear.

  Kyra bit her lip and studied this new female in her life. Her stomach clenched.

  “I still don’t understand the need for him to be present,” Queen Shui said, squaring her shoulders.

  “Exactly,” Bolsvck seconded.

  “Sebastian was, and as you can see, still is a big part of the life Kyra has chosen. If you wish for her to remember, it is best to have a tether, someone who understands her and won’t judge her.” Zeke nodded at Sebastian. “He is best for that role.”

  “Then I will go.” Drakhögg stepped forward.

  “As will I.” Not to be outdone, Ryhuu also stepped forward.

  Kyra rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple. This testosterone match made her head hurt.

  Ignoring the dragon men, Zeke placed an arm around Kyra and moved her in the direction of the rides. He motioned for Sebastian to follow. Talia walked steadily at Zeke’s side.

  “Sebastian currently safeguards a large part of Kyra.” He tossed a meaningful glance in the direction of the dragon ring. “Understand now?” Bolsvck, Queen Shui, and all their people stood in place and said nothing. “Good. I only require the two. Any more, and it will muddle the process. Please refrain from following.” Zeke glanced at Kyra and winked. They walked the path at a mild to slow rate. “When it is done, Kyra will return to you.”

  “And the boy,” Bolsvck yelled.

  Zeke did not respond.

  “I shall go. Make sure everything goes all right. Make sure they both return,” Ryhuu said.

  Kyra glanced back, saw Queen Shui stop Ryhuu with a touch to the shoulder. At the back of the dragon crowd, Drakhögg’s head snapped up. He’d been in tight, a little too tight, with that other girl dragon. The one that made Kyra self-conscious.

  “Send no one. We will return,” Zeke called over his shoulder and kept walking.

  When the dragons were out of view, Zeke stepped to the side and took a seat on an old bench pushed out of the crowd’s way. “This is it for me, for now. Talia will take excellent care of you. She’s a good girl.”

  “Thank you, Zeke, for everything.” Sebastian took the old man’s hand in his and squeezed it. Then he knelt close to Zeke and whispered something Kyra couldn’t hear. The not knowing made her eyes burn. Silly.

  When Sebastian stepped back, dragonflies swarmed a chaotic ring inside Kyra’s gut. She should say something to this man who had somehow stricken respect and compliance in her parents. But that alone kept her feet from taking a step closer. “Thank you for your help,” she said from where she stood. Zeke smiled, and his blind eyes glistened. Kyra’s brow narrowed, and she studied him hard. She almost stepped closer. Is he really blind?

  “Let’s go,” Talia said and started toward the array of spinning lights and magical music.

  The air was thick with the scent of hot dogs, turkey legs, caramelized bacon, and something else. Something metallic. Something…burning? Kyra regarded the scenes on her left and right. From what she could see, nothing was burning, but that didn’t rule out an electrical fire. A flash snapped near her right ear, and she turned to see what it was. Another flash to the left. Tiny flashes everywhere, like lightning bugs exploding. She jerked her head and jumped.

  Sebastian tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ve been through this many times. It’s Mystic’s—the carnival. She’s getting ready to change.”

  Kyra paused and stared at him, a wrinkle in her forehead. “What do you mean, change?”

  “You’re about to find out.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her waist. Studied her with concern brewing in his dark, sultry eyes. “How are you dealing with the knowledge that you’re a dragon shifter?”

  “I don’t know. I feel like it should bother me, and yet…” She paused, peered down at her hand and flexed it. She could almost see it morphing into something scaly with wicked-long nails. Damn, she had a wild imagination. She squinted back toward the flashing lights of the rides. “It’s almost like that’s what’s wrong here. I’m supposed to be a dragon, but I’m not.” She glanced at him. “Does that make sense?”

  “In your amusing Kyra-speak, it sorta does.” He rubbed her arm. “I don’t want to alarm you, but this place is full of things of a supernatural nature. Like dragons, but not like dragons at all. Does that make sense?”

  Kyra’s lips twisted to the side, and she thought about what he’d said for a moment. “I guess it does. Like you?” she asked. “You’re not a dragon.”

  “No, I’m not. Your parents made that abundantly clear.”

  The metallic smell grew stronger, and the flashing increased.

  “She’s working slow today. Must be giving you a chance to acclimate.”

  “Who?” Kyra asked.

  “The carnival,” Sebastian said. “Like your people are dragons, and I am not, the carnival is an entity all her own. A rather interesting being, at that.” He admired their surroundings, giving pause to his commentary. “She will move us visitors around the landscape of her domain as she deems necessary. You used to tell me it was a fun challenge, making your way from one place to another when Mystic’s wanted you to go someplace else.” He laughed.

  “I bet,” Kyra said, and then everything around them spun in a whirlwind of flashing lights. Kyra stumbled. Sebastian caught her. When the world was once again calm, they were standing in front of the carousel.

  “And here we are. Exactly where we need to be. Guess she’s feeling helpful.” Following Talia, Sebastian led Kyra to the ride’s entrance. The metal railing around the carousel was cool to the touch. Kyra wrapped her palms around its smooth surface, wondering how many hands had run along its veneer through the years while they waited their turn at the adventure, wearing the railing down to such a fine, feather-touch feel.

  A musical voice rang overhead. “Mystic’s Jubilee commences in fifteen. Party favors are still available lakeside and at the front gate.”

  Sebastian turned to Talia. “Today is the Jubilee?”

  “Yeah. Great timing you two have, huh?” She jumped over the gate and motioned them to wait. After whispering something to the ride attendant, she pushed a button on the control panel and talked into the mic. “Sorry folks. This ride will be shut down until after the fireworks show.” Her announcement was greeted with a cluster of complaints and protests. “Phil here,” she pointed to the ride attendant, “will be handing each of you a ticket that will not only give you access to the priority line upon your return, but a free show at the Magical Bibelots tent.” Thrilled oohs and ahhs resounded, and people dwindled away after Phil handed out the tickets. Soon there was only Talia, Sebastian, and Kyra. Even Phil left.

  Kyra stared at the double-decker merry-go-round with all its masterfully carved whimsical creatures; unicorns, gryphons, lions, bats, sea creatures, swans, even a dragon. It was exquisite, but how in all things supernatural was a ride supposed to help her retrieve lost memories?

  The gate opened.

  “Riders, pick your steed,” someone yelled. Kyra saw no source for the voice, only Talia directing them to the second level. Kyra’s steps were slow and deliberate, her hand clenching the railing till the blood drained from her fingers. The warmth of Sebastian’s hand at the small of her back pressed her onward against the tide of trepidation, until she stood toe-to-toe with the glowing amber light carved into the landing at the top.

  4

  VEXATION

  Marcus

  Marcus shifted against the fine leather of the backseat. The air smelled of coconut air fr
eshener, as well as Mara and zilant, the two others in the car with him. But that wasn’t what bothered Marcus. There was something else, something not within the confines of the vehicle, but close enough to ruffle his shackles. That something kept him glancing over his shoulder and out the back window.

  His finger tapped on the door panel, finally pressing down on the widow lever, lowering it a crack. An abundance of scents rushed past, all from the surrounding area and the area ahead. A mingling of nature and human that, in his mind, never should’ve come to be. It was human fear he smelled now. Human fear, rust, and bad petrol. And the sweat—the fear—was intensifying, as if the source were somehow aware of Marcus’s suspicions. Or maybe it was simply getting closer. Were they in visual range?

  “Slow down, Darren.”

  The driver glanced toward the backseat, then returned his attention to the road. “Think someone’s following us?”

  Leila stretched like a cat waking from a nap. The lack of interest she demonstrated set Marcus’s ears to smoking. He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to put up with her, if she would even last until the plan came to fruition. She may have to meet her demise early. And if so, let the Mara, maker of bad dreams, meet her own nightmare. It was his purpose after all, to bring the lesser beings to their knees, and she was by all means a lesser being. Marcus squinted, watched her from the corner of his eye.

  “If we are being followed, will we lead them away from the Den? Or just stop here and kill them?” Leila asked and fell back into the seat. She didn’t sound exceptionally interested either way.

  Kill them, yes. Marcus’s tongue ran longingly along his teeth, and he sniffed the air once again. Fear. Plenty of fear. Human fear. “Pull over.”

  “Sir?” Darren tilted his head toward the back. The road ahead was barren. Mostly trees, with the occasional house buried deep within the thicket.

  “Pull the damn car over, now.” Marcus was already opening the side door. The tires hit the side gravel, sending a shower of pebbles hammering like a hailstorm at the car’s underside. The car hadn’t come to a complete stop when Marcus stepped from the backseat. The door slammed closed, barely missing his arm, and the sedan swerved to a hard stop several feet beyond.