Blood for the Dancer

by Dallas Mullican

  Shax barreled down on him. Ten strides away…five…

  Blood Dancer’s energy roared and transformed…to brilliant sapphire, white at its center.

  What followed remained a blur. Dustan opened his eyes to a sky gleaming in a myriad of dark colors. He rotated his head. Shax lay an arm’s reach away, Blood Dancer protruding from his chest. Dustan pushed to his feet, a sinking feeling in his belly contrasting with the pressure filling his head.

  “What’ve you done, boy.” Shax’s voice rattled in a whisper as red-black energy gushed out from around the blade. Kyra’s warmth indicated her presence at his side. Dustan leaned forward and wrenched the sword free.

  “I’m sorry…my friend.” He averted his gaze from the fallen warrior as the body exploded in concentric waves of light and heat.

  “We must leave. They know we are here,” said Kyra, tugging his arm.

  He ambled zombie-like in her grasp toward the bowl’s rim. As they started their ascent, the crack of splintering ice and rock carried on a rising wind.

  Dustan glanced back toward the direction of the sounds. “What was that?”

  “We have to get out of here now.” The urgency in Kyra’s voice snapped him to life. They grappled at the steep embankment with the clamor escalating behind them. “We won’t make it. Prepare yourself.”

  Two shapes rose over the distant ridge. Serpents. Dustan estimated them at a hundred feet long, with the heads of wolves and demon warriors astride their backs.

  “Wolfdragons.” Kyra breathed the word through clenched teeth. She drew her daggers, brought them to life, and hardened her stance. “Portal guards patrolling this area.”

  “Wolf…dragons…. You’ve got to be kidding.” Even with his increasing knowledge of the spirit realm, this tested credence. “Any advice on dealing with these things?”

  “Avoid the fangs and tails while not getting skewered by the demons’ blades.”

  Dustan glanced sideways at her. “Really, that’s all you got?”

  Kyra shrugged.

  “How do we kill them?”

  “Their backs consist of metal-hard exoskeleton, but the bellies are soft. Aim there.”

  “And how do I do that?” Dustan liked this less and less.

  “Very carefully.” Kyra inhaled the energy in the air, recouping her health and strength, and offered a pensive grin.

  “Somehow I was afraid you were going to say that.” He moved a few strides on Kyra’s left, gripped Blood Dancer in two hands, and prepared his mind for the confrontation. No trees to hide in—no place to hide at all. Jumping portals was out as well. Remaining static at the realm’s edge, they could not summon a gate close to hand. He hoped his sole remaining talent, the orbs, worked on these things.

  “Take out the riders first. Without their masters directing them, the beasts will fight on instinct. The demons’ forms are not projections like in the human dimension. Fight them as you would a man. Anatomies are similar here. Strike the head or heart if you can. If not, do as much damage as possible.” Kyra spun the daggers in alternating rotations.

  At least these warriors did not appear terribly powerful. With auras a shade above pink, the weaker soldiers must draw the shit duty of monitoring the gateways in this frozen waste. The wolfdragons slithered into the basin, burrowing deep fissures in their wake. One demon wielded a spear and guided his serpent to the right. The other, with a mace, went left. Looked like Dustan drew mace demon. He whirled Blood Dancer at his side, the cerulean flame sizzling through the air. Kyra summoned an orb to each hand and hurled the one in her left toward the warrior’s weapon. He deflected it easily, realizing too late the ploy. The second sphere, an instant behind the first, took his head off in an explosion of lilac and red.

  Dustan followed Kyra’s lead, focusing a ball of sapphire energy to hand. The wolfdragon raced toward him, the rider whirling his mace overhead. A moment before the serpent chomped down and the mace crashed with his skull, Dustan rolled hard and threw the sphere with all his strength. It punched a hole clean through the demon. Kyra stood clearly visible through the wound on the other side as the wolfdragon’s tail lashed past.

  That was easy.

  The monster, formerly belonging to the mace demon, flew along the far shelf wall, collapsing it as it went. The wolfdragon emerged from the shower of ice and rock like a surfer from a wave funnel and bore down on him.

  Shit. Jinxed it.

  The second dragon ducked its massive head and burrowed into the canyon floor, tunneling deep for the water below. Kyra watched its descent, and raced for the near wall. Jabbing them in one after the next, she used her daggers as pikes, and climbed the cliff face.

  Dustan fell onto his back as the wolfdragon narrowly missed cutting him in half. He extended Blood Dancer, hoping the beast would rake its belly along the blade as it glided over him. No such luck—the thing diverted and flicked a scaled tail, whipping Dustan across the ground and hurtling him into a monolith. The monument teetered and fell. He slid out of the way as its frozen debris billowed out from a thunderous landing.

  Kyra had gained the ridge. She crouched, staring down, head swaying, appearing to follow the second dragon’s movement under the ice. His monster slithered a figure eight and raced toward him with frightening speed. He slipped behind the closest erect monolith. Sandwiched between the giant stone and the shelf wall, he had trapped himself. The spot might offer a shield from the creature’s snapping jaws, but it left him nowhere to go.

  Infuriated, the wolfdragon gnawed at the pillar. Shards of serrated ice and rock sliced Dustan’s cheeks and neck. He stood with his back pressed to the stone. His heart boomed against his chest, threatening to punch through his breastbone. Blood Dancer’s energy warmed his hands, but everything else felt frozen. He peeked around the edge. The beast glided back and forth, thrashing its tail and biting at the air. Kyra had not moved. Still hunched and staring at the basin floor, her aura bloomed around her. At least she seemed to have something resembling a plan. Though for the life of him, he could not imagine what it was.

  To his left, two hundred yards away, an incline riddled with smaller rocks sloped up the bowl and onto a flat ridge. No way could he outrun the monster, but perhaps a diversion would buy some time. Dustan summoned an orb, pivoted into the open, and slung the sphere into the wolfdragon’s snout. The beast flailed its gigantic head side-to-side, roaring in pain. He took advantage of the distraction and dashed from cover.

  Sliding along the ice, he glanced back. The wolfdragon had already shaken the effects of the attack and pursued, gliding across the ground. The incline remained too far to reach, leaving him no choice but to fight. Dustan spun on a heel, skimming in reverse. The beast reared, towering thirty feet above him. Its underside, smooth and white, striped in thick black creases at the segments, spanned a good twelve feet or more in width. Dustan considered a lunge for the soft tissue, but with the dragon’s jaws gaping overhead, he doubted he could do damage before it bit his head off. An orb might work, but he already felt lightheaded, the realm swaying in his vision. If the expense of energy did not kill it, he would be too weak to mount another defense. Staring up into the jaws of the monster, an idea occurred to him. A crazy, completely insane notion.

  Dustan waved the sword. “Hey, you ugly fucker. Come get me. Come on, what you waiting for?”

  He poked at the wolfdragon and retreated a step. The creature howled and craned its neck, fangs longer than Dustan dripping venomous drool. The wolf head darted downward. Dustan gauged a spot at the back of the gapping maw, waited another instant, and sprang toward the dragon’s yawning mouth. The fangs clamped down on his calves, bones cracking and muscles shredded to ribbons. Blood Dancer’s hilt touched the roof of the beast’s mouth, the full length of the blade sunken deep into its brain. The jaws popped open as the wolfdragon bellowed, and Dustan plummeted to the ground. The beast reeled for a moment and came crashing down, sending a mist of frost into the air.

  Dustan sat up, the bones cru
nching in his legs as they knitted. Razor sharp pain shot through his body. Frantic, he fumbled for Blood Dancer, but the sword remained stuck inside the monster’s head. He pushed with his shattered legs, trying to gain distance from the dragon. The light in its saucer eyes flashed out. There was no eruption of energy, only a quiver running through its length as the body went still.

  Kyra had watched from her perch on the cliff’s rim. She offered him a nod and a tight-lipped grin before returning her stare to the basin floor. Her eyes flitted back and forth as she followed the second wolfdragon’s swim. She gasped and clutched her daggers to her chest. The ice below erupted. Enormous chunks burst into the air, shooting slivers out in all directions. One, as long as a lance, pierced Dustan’s side. He screamed. The stabbing agony made his body seize. Helpless, he could only lay there until healed, watching Kyra, and hoping she knew what she was doing.

  The wolfdragon jetted from the floor. Its snarling head rose even with Kyra’s position high on the cliff. She rocked once on her heels and sprang out into the open air. The points of her daggers penetrated the monster’s underside ten feet below its lower jaw. She tugged hard and slid downward, ripping through the creature’s flesh as she went. The dragon’s howl shattered icicles along the shelf rim, which rained like knives into the ravine. When they’d fallen about halfway to the basin floor, the daggers caught on a segment ring. The wolfdragon thrashed in pain. Its massive head collided with the cliff, breaking off great sections of rock that splashed into the frigid water. Kyra beckoned a large orb into her right hand. She shoved the ball into the beast’s body through the tear in its skin, and pushed off with both feet, tugging her daggers free as she soared outward. She hit the ground and rolled on her shoulder, skidding onto her backside. The orb detonated in blast of violet light and rumbling from within the beast. Hunks of the wolfdragon sprayed the canyon, sprinkling down in globs of multi-hued energy and flesh.

  Kyra rose and limped over to where Dustan lay mending. “You all right?”

  “Getting there. Glad there were only two. Why are their bodies still here? Why didn’t they erupt like the other spirits?”

  “They are dumb creatures. Much like animals in the human realm. They live here, and are composed of energy, but lack souls—the core that gives spirit beings intelligence, reason, self-awareness. They remain where they died until decomposition returns their energy to the atmosphere. Other creatures and spirits absorb or breathe it in as sustenance.”

  “The cycle of life, huh?” Dustan tried to smile, but it hurt too much.

  “Something like that.” Kyra helped him to his feet. “We need to hurry. The disturbance will bring more. I know a place where we will be safe for a time.”

  “Okay. I don’t know if I could face any more right now.”

  “Nor I. Come, quickly.”

  They made their way up the incline Dustan had noticed earlier. The easiest path, but it left them a few hundred yards from the portal Kyra indicated. With each step, Dustan felt a little strength returning to his body. The wound in his side healed, but his legs still wobbled. The sight of tendons and muscle squirming beneath the skin brought bile into his throat.

  “Oh, no.” Kyra nodded.

  “What is that?” Dustan followed her gaze.

  Five shapes hovered over the eastern horizon, swiftly growing larger. High off the ground, something like elongated arms rose and fell against the sky.

  “I knew spirits could float, but I didn’t know they could fly.”

  “They cannot. Not on their own.”

  The figures drew closer and Dustan could almost make them out—immense taut bodies of lions, heads and wings of eagles, and savage talons. The figures on their backs glowed white-silver.

  “Hunters.” Kyra braced him. “Can you run?”

  Dustan offered a grim nod and steeled himself.

  “Then run,” she shouted.

  They sprinted toward the portal with the overhead shadows widening. The roar of wings beating the air filled Dustan’s ears. He pictured those talons slicing through his flesh, lifting him miles into the sky before dropping him toward the distant ground. Kyra clasped his arm and they leaped into the gateway.

  20

  Portents

  Ravenscar, North Yorkshire

  Dustan and Kyra rented two rooms in the Falcon Inn on Whitby Road. Ravenscar was the ideal spot to hide away. The town was home to fewer than four hundred residents, and no tourist traffic existed. A beautiful location high on dramatic clifftops, overlooking windswept beaches and billowing white-topped waves, the town had served as one in a string of Roman signal stations. Positioned ten miles north of Scarborough on the Yorkshire coast, there had been plans in the early 1900s to develop the village into a holiday resort. A few roads and houses were built, but due to the long trek to its rocky shores, Ravenscar never achieved popularity and the designs were left unfinished, the area a ghost town.

  Kyra had allowed Dustan a full day to recover his strength before rapping on his door. He pulled on a dark green long-sleeved t-shirt and raked his fingers through hair curled in slender twists. Kyra had risked a hop to procure fresh clothes. With more experience traversing the portals, she made the trip quicker alone, though he had protested. She looked as if she had returned from the mall rather than a harrowing battle with giant wolf-headed snakes. In a mauve blouse and jeans, her dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, Kyra appeared radiant. He envied her rapid turnaround.

  “We have much to discuss, you and I.”

  Dustan found the Russian accent adorable, along with everything else about her. Even after getting munched on by the wolfdragons, he couldn’t shake the attraction. His heart fluttered with the sight of her.

  Get a grip. You aren’t sixteen.

  Though, honestly, he never recalled experiencing these feelings at sixteen or any other age, his relationship with Saerna the closest to qualifying as having a girlfriend. Something in Kyra’s eyes hinted the attraction was mutual, but she did a much better job of masking it. He feared it only wishful thinking on his part.

  She let her hand linger on his arm a moment as she stepped into the room. His heart skipped a beat and she seemed to forget what she was going to say. “I…I need to know what you were planning at the Center, or more so, why you did not follow through.”

  “It didn’t feel right. Something seemed off from the start, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Shax…” Dustan stiffened at the name. “Shax never came with me on missions. Everything about it was odd.”

  “The demon served as your keeper?”

  “My friend. My oldest friend. Shax had been with me since I was fourteen.” Dustan dropped his head. “I had no choice. He made me kill him. I don’t understand what he was doing, but it still hurts.”

  Kyra nodded. “Still, you haven’t explained why you would protect me and destroy someone so close to you.”

  Dustan paced, wringing his hands. “Shax told me your aura might appear different, but when I sensed it, an image came into my mind. I had a dream once. I couldn’t recall much of it at the time. When I saw you, and again when Shax was about to kill you, a tall man with a blue aura appeared to me.”

  Kyra’s head shot around. “What was his name? Do you remember his name?” She appeared anxious, insistent.

  “I…I don’t know. It’s right there…Hadraniel. Yes, that’s it, Hadraniel.” Dustan breathed a heavy sigh as if he pulled a painful splinter from his finger.

  Kyra gasped and collapsed into a chair.

  “Why? What does it mean?”

  “A long story. And I will tell it to you soon. First, you must know we are both in grave danger.”

  “I assumed so. The demons will want revenge.”

  “It is much more than that. The demons and the angels are hunting us now.”

  Dustan sat on the bed and waited for Kyra to gather her thoughts. A knot twisted in his stomach. He feared things were about to get very bad.

  “Do you understand what ha
ppened in the spirit realm? Why your aura shifted?”

  “A guess. When I moved against Shax, I became unaligned, like Hadraniel.”

  “Yes. Auras are tied to belief—deep-seated, strong beliefs. One cannot change willy-nilly. I cannot say I want to be an angel pledge now and suddenly possess a white aura, or vice versa. My entire belief system must change. A certainty in the angelic cause, total and complete, down to my core.” Kyra leaned forward and rubbed her temples.

  “I accepted what Hadraniel told me. In that moment, my beliefs changed?”

  “Correct. You no longer trusted the demons, or their version of events. An epiphany altered your fundamental belief system.”

  “They lied to me from the beginning. Or, at least withheld information they didn’t want me to know.” Anger spiked in his gut, a lifetime of hatred for a lie.

  “Both angels and demons practice the same deceptions. If souls knew a place of peace existed, how many would join their war?”

  “Not many.” Dustan considered all Kyra had told him thus far. “Why is your aura purple and not blue?”

  Her gaze fell to the floor. “It is part of the long story. Your friend Shax may have been correct. I may very well be an abomination.”

  “I find that hard to fathom.” Dustan reddened, but Kyra smiled.

  “I promise to tell you the whole story, but we are both still weary. Get some rest and we will talk tomorrow.” Kyra stood and moved for the door, but turned back to him. “Dustan.”

  “Yes?”

  She gazed into his eyes, causing his heart to skip another beat. At this rate, he might not need to worry about the angels or demons—this girl would give him a coronary.

  “Thank you. For saving me.” She did not give him an opportunity to reply, but closed the door behind her.

  That night, he tossed restless in bed. So many doubts and fears tore through his mind. He witnessed Shax in his last moment of life, betrayal and hurt etched on his face.