Or it might have been the dragon saying touch me, please touch me.
A thing that demanding, had the ability to drain her dry, like the demon who hopped in during a healing back on Earth. She had no memory of the emergency team shocking her back to life when it stopped her heart. Not an option here if this beast decided to live at all costs.
You spent the night leaning up against those spiked teeth. It didn’t eat you then, and it won’t eat you now. It needs your help. You can’t walk away now.
“I’m Claudia,” she said, and tapped the centre of her chest. “Claudia. What are you called? Can you tell me?” When she got no answer, she tried again, touching her chest and pointing this time when she asked his name. Not strong enough to reach without touching, she had to get nearer.
Perhaps if she went around the back of him, touched that muscular tail that might snap her in half with one lazy flick? Not such a good idea. Never take a patient by surprise. Especially those liable to lash out and do real damage.
“I should really have an anchor with me, doing something this big. I had a friend who grounded me when I worked my healing and kept me on the Earthly plane. I’m going to touch your neck and see what happens. If you try to bite me, I’ll send you to dragon hell, make no mistake.”
Her heart stopped half-way to his neck. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days and used precious energy reserves running across wastelands, climbing mountains. And now, she thought to awaken a sleeping dragon? Oh well, she’d always aimed high.
“If only I had access to my YouTube channel. You, Mr Dragon, would break the internet for me.”
Oh Dio, now she was thinking like the Corporation. No, this was a life, not a circus exhibit to be exploited for personal glory. Exactly what the evil Corporation would do once they found him. Set it free to soar the skies and they’d want it for their grisly games. The wyverns longed to rekindle their war with the dragons. So many ways this could go wrong.
And still, she refused to leave him trapped inside that statue.
Edging forward, one small step at a time, she raised her hands, expecting at any moment for the neck to snap around and lunge at her, eyes blazing, jaws wide.
The beast lay still, head resting on the chamber floor, where a small dust cloud lifted rhythmically into the air under its giant nostril. Breathing, the statue was breathing, and when she reached out her fingers to touch the curved neck, warmth radiated from the skin.
Skin, not stone. Like a small miracle, it was happening before her eyes.
Help him, he might be in pain.
Her fear pushed back, replaced by awe and wonder at what she’d started. Without hesitation, Claudia pressed her whole body to the rounded flank, pressing her ear to the gently moving muscle. A heartbeat; she heard the heavy thump, like the piston of a giant engine working overtime. Energy flowed from her into the huge, warming body, sucking everything in its desperate need for life.
She didn’t care. Wanted only to witness this miracle now and perhaps earn herself a protector. The dragons were shifters, too. Creatures of honour, so some said. Though this one radiated none of the evil in the wyvern’s soul-less eyes, what did she truly know of these mythical creatures?
A blast of warm air lifted her cloak, ending on a long, rattling sigh.
“Come on, Dragon, you can do it. Together, we’ll set you free.”
Her whole body lifted and fell with each dragon breath as she lay pressed to its warming skin like an offering. Seeped in heat, she felt herself floating, lightheaded with the steady pull of the dragon sucking her energy.
The room went a little fuzzy, the steady drip, drip of water faded, and she had a vague thought that it was happening too fast and there was no one here to stop the beast taking every last drop of her life force for itself.
But what a way to die. In her fogged imagination, Claudia sank right through the dragon skin, and joined with the whirl of confusion sorting itself into memory and thought, experience and history. They called him Tharius, this general of the Draegon army. Brave and headstrong, he commanded loyalty, and fear too, in that strong set of his mouth, the unyielding steel in his purple eyes.
A dragon who disobeyed a direct order in order to throw his life into saving his species and his mate.
Tragedy sparked sorrow. And sorrow…what? A need for revenge so strong, it kept him bound on the mortal plane, deprived of his proper rest? A classic case of unfinished business? Claudia’s logical mind kicked in, building a story out of the information downloading from his mind to hers.
So lost in his past, she only vaguely sensed her more practical self screaming at her to let go and stop before he killed her.
No longer just her seeking entry to him, his strength reached out now, locking her in his turbulent thoughts, the dark images crowding his mind. She breathed in a breath, he breathed it out. Their hearts were speaking, falling into sync and beating as one. A crushing ache filled her chest.
“Tharius, let go. You’re killing me. Let go.”
Their joined hearts beat stronger, thumping at the remaining stone, so fragile now and ready to explode. And when it did, it was in real danger of taking her, too.
Chapter Seven
Through this chosen healer, the gods had asked him to resume the war and cast out the invaders. Not in so many words, but why else did they send this powerhouse of a female to bring him back?
A female with dragon blood gifted somewhere in her history. A thought struck Tharius that sent shivers of excitement racing over his spines.
Enough blood to take his seed and bear his child? To bring his kind back from extinction?
Impossible. The thought died even as it formed. Look at her. How could something that fragile bear the joining, the searing burn of dragon seed taking root?
He must take care to shift to male form when fully released, so as not to frighten her. She did not look so different from the female dragons in shift.
Even in sleep, her magic continued to work on him, warming and melting his shell, thinning his blood so it might flow again, and not sit in his veins in stodgy, congealed clots. His heart once again beat out the moments of his life, and his lungs pushed air out through his nose and mouth.
He took from her without restraint, straining muscles stiff from disuse, urging them to flex and move again. He took. She gave, and then she awoke from her slumber and moved away. Tharius panicked, then. Not a feeling he relished.
Don’t go. Not now when your magic is working so well. You were sent here for me. Come back and do what the gods ordered.
Locked in her own panic and uncertainty, his demand fell on deaf ears.
Claudia. Is that your given name? You tell me that word like it’s your given name. Don’t be afraid, Claudia. Finish what you started, and I will protect you. Keep you safe from the wyverns, the invaders.
Did she hear his impassioned plea? In the dreaming, he hovered tantalisingly close to the Otherworld. In this half-flesh state, he hovered too close to life. Near enough to feel alive but lacking the ability to live.
She moved back, pressing the full length of her body to his flank. This time, he locked on tight and drew her in so close their minds, their thoughts, melded as one. And then the woman who called herself Claudia began to fade, and there was only Tharius, growing stronger as she grew weak.
The glorious sensations of life bloomed, and then he realised his base instincts, his desire to snatch this chance and live, had taken over.
He was killing her.
Too much. Too strong for her.
But did not a mighty dragon have a greater right than this puny alien to life? He had things to do, a world to save and a race to rebirth. Revenge and havoc to wreak. If this woman must die so he could live, then…
How could he think of killing this one being left who might bear his child? A female who’d given him this gift without price?
When had Tharius become so bitter, so selfish? Such thoughts shamed the Chatra marks adorning his shifted ma
le flesh. Through the trials, he’d endured what they threw at him, even when tasked to offer his life to defend the weak, uphold right and justice.
And now he would take this female’s life for his own?
Claudia, move away. Wake up and move away. This is killing you. I am killing you.
His jaw juddered, but he bellowed only in his head. His teeth, the lips, remained stubbornly clamped together. Then he remembered this female needed no sound to find meaning.
Claudia, listen. Tharius brought the thought to the fore, sliding into her head, entwining his thoughts with hers. Claudia, enough for now. Pull away.
“No, I can’t stop.”
She seemed to understand him, but he did not know her words. Only that they weighed heavy with anguish and fear. In too deep, their life forces so tangled now she could not break free.
He tried to push her off, throw her across the chamber. If she reignited the fire pent up inside of him, he may not have control of it. So many ways he might kill this fragile alien. And he never wanted that.
Gently. The gods bid him go gently with his saviour. And his mother often told the story of the tempest that failed to dislodge the ice cap atop the highest peaks, where the gentle heat of the sun, in its patience, made short work of transforming it to liquid water and taking it off down the mountain. Too used to barking orders, after all his long contemplation, gentleness still did not come easy to him.
In his head, he imagined taking each of Claudia’s small fingers and loosening them from his flesh one by one. With care, he gathered the scattered strands of her thoughts, untangling them from his own. And then he pictured himself in full male shift, lifting her and carrying her across the chamber. Lying her down on the floor and bidding her to rest before trying again.
General Tharius was a male of action, not a mystic. Poking around in minds was the craft of the dragons equally strong, but destined for softer roles than that of a warrior. With no idea if he was doing it right, he continued to coax and talk to the woman trapped in his mind. How ironic if, in attempting to free him, she only succeeded in trapping herself.
The gods would not be so cruel. Would they?
Finally, he felt the separation as the female named Claudia slid down his flank into a boneless heap on the cold floor. She rolled a little and broke the contact.
Did she still live? His stone cage had started to melt, but his muscles remained locked in place. She was behind him and he remained with his neck curled around his body, his head facing away from her on the floor. He listened. No noise, no hiss of breath or pulse of her beating heart.
Had he truly killed his saviour? Was that the price of his life?
His head throbbed with great clanging hammer blows. And his awakening skin now remembered the searing charge of the invader’s weapon blasting him from the sky and taking part of his wing. The pain of his crushed foot was nothing compared to the shock of that ricocheting charge threatening to shatter him from the inside.
Tharius held his breath. Claudia. Speak to me. I do not know your tongue, but make your sounds. Tell me you still…live.”
His jaw unsnapped, the last word moved from thought to sound on a roaring growl over tongue, teeth, and lips to bounce off the walls. He tried again, calling her given name, revelling in the sound, the rush of air and the sheer volume of noise produced by a dragon in full voice.
No longer in stasis, in this half-melted state, he’d need food to keep him alive. Water dripped down the walls, pooling in a stone trough at the far end of the chamber, but without her, he was doomed to breathe in the smell, listen to the trickle and drip, and die of thirst.
“Claudia.” The voice that once boomed commands across mountains and valleys came out like a rusty growl, grating his throat. Even that felt good after two hundred years of silence. The echo died away, replaced by the singing of moving water, the distant whisper of the wind rattling stones on the temple courtyard, filtering down through the chambers.
Claudia lay so quiet, she might already be dead. Pushing at his remaining bonds did no good. They held him tight and in place. Glued to the very ground they laid him on after his last battle.
Tharius vowed to free himself if it took every last spark of fire, every drop of life force reactivated by the female Claudia. He owed it to her, as well as his race, to return and reclaim their Draegon home.
“Don’t die, little one. We both have tasks yet to complete. Heal me, release me, and I will be yours for all time. Together, we will bring back the Draegon race, and you will sit by my side.”
A lofty boast for a crippled warrior stuck in an underground chamber, absent even the warmth of the sun on his back. Yet, not an idle boast. In life he was a dragon of carefully measured words, and when he chose to speak, others paid him due heed. Once spoken, he acted, and would move the planets themselves to bring action to his words.
Time sped relentlessly on, the lights from the shields grew brighter as the sun crested and bloomed in the sky. Unfamiliar hunger gnawed at his insides, thirst lapped at him, reminding him that he last felt the cool wash of mountain water in his mouth and throat over two hundred years ago.
Priest dragons endured far more with little damage in their fasting rituals and retreats. He would, too. The worst of it was his inability to turn and see how Claudia lay, whether she breathed deep, or so shallow she barely held on to life. That would be a far worse torture than the hunger and thirst. The day waned, the light reflected from the shields turned cold with moonlight. Lightwing bugs buzzed in angry circles about his head, stabbing his newborn flesh to feast on his warming blood.
A small disturbance in the air caught his attention. Different to the wind stirring fallen leaves and dust layering the ledges and steps. This was something moving with purpose. Not behind him, where Claudia lay, but up in the void and chambers beyond the stone steps.
If he moved his eyes, the greater rake of the steps leading away to the upper levels came into view. Tharius watched, sight, sound, smell—even his skin sensed the difference in the air. He’d forgotten how acute his senses were in life. How a single footfall up on the courtyard could make his skin prickle and alert him of impending intruders.
Something or someone was invading his domain. A vaguely familiar thing he remembered from the wars and in his sleep.
Tharius swallowed the growl forming in his throat. A cursed eye, one of the sneakier, orb-shaped eyes the invaders used to spy on them during the wars. And then later they came again, taking a mystifying pleasure in simply watching him. At first he deduced they sought signs of life. Not content with slaughtering his dragon kin on the battlefield, they were hunting down the fallen warriors, keeping watch and ensuring they never rose to fight again.
When they deemed him sufficiently inert, they left him. And now they might have caught him halfway back to life. He kept very still, holding his breath, with the knowledge they’d surely notice the leathery hide replacing carved stone. The few scales left to him glistening with the weak light of the moons as his circulating blood polished them from within.
The orb paused in the middle of the steps, hovering so high above his line of vision he had to strain his eyes upwards in their sockets to catch a glimpse of the black underside. What little intelligence the Draegon spies managed to glean on the invaders told that the floating eyes were windows for commanders directing operations back at some base. Where the dragons sent in specially trained recon warriors to gather intelligence, the invaders never needed to lose good soldiers in doing the same.
They yet wanted him dead? Is that why they returned to spy on him? They’d find Claudia, lying behind him, but he would shield her with his body for as long as it took for them to discover her. When they did, in this half-state, he could no longer be her champion or her shield. If the invaders chose to terminate him now, he would go with shame to the otherworld having failed to defend her.
One to whom he owed a great debt.
As if reading his thoughts, the eye moved, making a slow
trajectory past his head and neck and out of his view, sweeping close enough to his great bulk to send minute shivers over his hide. Attacking him from behind? But then the invaders were ever cowardly in all they did.
The eye traced his outline, making a slow sweep of his neck, lifting up and over his back to come around to where his spiked tail wrapped around his body. Having the cursed thing so close enraged him. How many good dragons had died because of these sneaky spies?
A jolt of heat and a flash of white light bounced off the walls, making him strain his eyes sideways. Claudia. The light was too far from his field of vision to see what they were doing to his alien female. Not a deadly charge, like the one designed to fell a dragon in full flight, this only warmed his flank and lit the chamber with a brief starburst of stark light. For a small, alien female, even such a small charge might be deadly.
Residual energy from the charge caused his thigh muscles to twitch, almost as if animating them. Tharius heard a soft groan, a small female sound.
Alive. His female Claudia lived, and he would not have to bear the burden of causing her demise. A feat achieved by the eye? Then he thanked it, even as he heaped curses on the thing.
The eye left her to sweep in and dip low into his face. Still, he did not move. The bigger, angular eyes killed on sight, and after so many years, the invaders’ technology would have become only more powerful.
“Tharius?” No more than a bare whisper, but he heard the female Claudia talking, calling his name. The eye pulled back, positioned to watch them both. Tharius felt the touch of fingers on his leg, the brush of hair against his skin. And then Claudia moved into his line of vision, crawling to flop against his neck. Without the ability to move and see her properly, she remained a vague impression, flashes of colour, pale hair, the drab cloak and simple gown.
Don’t give me away, Claudia. Let them think me dead.
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