That lifted his spirits some. His brother had said nothing would ever get him to leave the island home, and now he’d have to leave on a regular basis. Dax laughed at the way Fate had played them both. “At least I’ll still have you.”
“Be smart in who you reveal yourself to. I’ll be watching.” Ramos nodded, acknowledging Jane. “And make sure you take care of her.”
She blushed and turned away.
Dax reached out and took hold of her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I will.”
“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” Ramos said. “You had an epic adventure, and I know there will be more for you on the horizon.”
“Exile won’t be so bad.” Dax winked at Jane. “I think I’m going to like it here. I hear there’s an opening for a new volcano researcher.”
Jane smiled back. “I am in need of a new assistant. The last one got fired recently.”
“Jane… Consider this my request to be your partner, then.” Dax lifted her up from her chair and pulled her into a kiss that promised a few eruptions to come.
He’d always wanted to explore the human world. And in a way, he had been given exactly that. His island chain was only one of many in the world. There were so many new places to discover and new volcanoes to study, with Jane as his companion and guide. To be cut off from his homeland would hurt, but he’d still have ties to his people through Ramos. In a way, this wasn’t truly exile. It was permission to be adventurous and learn all there was to learn about humanity. And perhaps, one day, find the way to bridge the gap between their species.
Other Books By Katie Salidas
Be sure to stop by KatieSalidas.com and sign up to the Paranormal Posse Newsletter.
All new subscribers will be sent a FREE ebook.
Autographed Editions of all Katie Salidas books may be purchased at
www.KatieSalidas.com
The Immortalis Series
Becoming a vampire is easy. Living with the condition... that's the hard part. Join Alyssa as she stumbles through the world of the "Unnatural."
Carpe Noctem
Newbie vampire Alyssa never asked for this life, but now it's all she has. Rescued from death by Lysander, the aloof and sexy leader of the Peregrinus vampire clan, she's barely cut her teeth before she lands on the vampire hunter’s radar.
Hunters & Prey
Rule number one: humans and vampires don't co-exist. One is the hunter and one is the prey. Simple, right? Not for newly turned vampire Alyssa who’s determined to hold on to the last anchor of her former life: her best friend Fallon.
Pandora's Box
When the box is opened, a sinister creature within is released, and only supernatural blood will satiate its thirst. Alyssa soon learns how it feels when the hunter becomes the hunted.
Soulstone
Caught in the middle of an all-out war with the Acta Sanctorum, and no closer to a solution to freeing her mate from the dying soulstone, Alyssa is left with an unenviable choice: save her mate, or save her clan.
Dark Salvation
Targeted as an Unnatural, and marked for death, Kitara’s only hope lies with the lethally seductive yet emotionally scarred warrior, Nicholas.
Little Werewolf series
Pretty Little Werewolf
All Giselle ever wanted was a family... who can accept her for what she is, a werewolf.
Curious Little Werewolf
Things would be perfect if supernatural disasters would quit creeping up and ruining Giselle’s happy new life.
Fearless Little Werewolf
In the game of Alphas, claiming the title is the greatest prize, one which most would kill to achieve. But for Giselle to win, she’ll have to risk her pack, her family… and her life.
About Katie Salidas
Las Vegas native, Katie Salidas is a Jill of all trades. Mother to three, Wife to one, and slave to the craft of writing, she tries to do it all, often causing sleep deprivation and many nights passed out at the computer. Author of the Immortalis series, Chronicles of the Uprising, and various other paranormal works; writing is her passion, and she hopes that her passion will bring you hours of entertainment.
Find Katie Salidas online at:
[email protected]
Be sure to stop by KatieSalidas.com and sign up to the Paranormal Posse Newsletter.
All new subscribers will be sent a FREE ebook.
Web
http://www.katiesalidas.com/
Facebook
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Katie-Salidas-Author/214780936916
Twitter
http://twitter.com/QuixoticKatie
A Novella of the Otherworld
Chapter One
Brienne drained the last, bitter remnants from her tankard and set the empty vessel down before her. The tavern was crowded with raucous locals, farmers by the most part, enjoying a drink to celebrate the final days of their harvest. Late afternoon light worked its way through the two dirty windows facing the street. A small fire in the hearth, a few lit candles scattered on scarred tables and a half dozen cracked, sooty lanterns hanging along the walls merely enhanced the shadows rather than driving them away. The perfect setting for those trying to blend in.
Despite her relative certainty she would not be noticed, Brienne pulled the hood of her thick cloak farther down her face, not wanting to give away her gender. She wasn’t particularly afraid of any of these men, and her skill with a blade, be it sword or knife, would surely protect her against those used to swinging a scythe or pushing a plow. But she didn’t need the extra attention and could do with an evening of rest. Besides, she hoped to rent a room in this very tavern tonight, for clouds carrying early snow swelled on the horizon, and she was tired of camping beneath trees whose leaves had all but fallen for the fast-approaching winter.
“Another ale for you, sir?” a serving maid asked.
Brie smiled beneath her hood, shaking her head in refusal.
The young woman gave a slight duck of her chin and took the empty cup away, sweeping up the coins Brienne had dropped on the counter. Once the tavern worker disappeared back into the kitchen, Brienne stood. She was tall, even for one of the Faelorehn, so it was easy for others to think her a man. If she kept her hair and face hidden, at least. An easy enough task. The tavern keeper was wiping down the long counter, so Brie headed in that direction, wondering whether or not she should try to pitch her voice low and keep up the facade of being male. She never got the opportunity, however. Before she could even take one step, the front door banged open, and a young man came tumbling in, his trousers caked with mud up to his knees, his shirt and vest torn. He took several gasping breaths as the patrons stared silently at this unexpected intrusion.
“Dr-Draghan!” he rasped, throwing his arm out behind him.
The sudden hush grew even more profound, just before the tavern burst into shouts and bodies scrambling to flood out into the street. Brienne stayed exactly where she was, not moving an inch until the entire place had emptied. Even then, she took a few moments to gather her bearings before joining the rest of the villagers out in the square.
Had the young man really said draghan? What in the name of the gods and goddesses was a draghan doing in Eile? From what she understood of such creatures, which she would admit was very little, was that they didn’t possess the mental capacity to figure out how to pass through a dolmarehn to sneak into her world. Perhaps it was some other large beast the youth had mistaken for a draghan. Or worse yet, one of the Morrigan’s dreaded faelah.
Not wanting her mind to go in that direction, Brienne cast another look at the open door and worried her lower lip between her teeth. She should stay in the tavern, but curiosity was gnawing at her and not joining the rest of the crowd would seem suspicious. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the door and ducked out into the late afternoon light. The townsfolk, many more than the number which had occupied the tavern, stood in a large crowd, their gazes fixed on the road leading south from
the village.
“I see them now!” the same young man from before shouted. “They’re coming over the rise!”
People jostled to get a better view, not taking care to avoid the mud puddles. A large wagon, most likely meant to transport hay, creaked down the rutted road and came to a stop in the wide town center. The villagers had moved just enough out of the way to let the driver and his team of draft horses pass, their eyes and attention fixed on the large creature tied down with chains in the back.
Brie caught her breath as gasps and small screams skittered about the crowd. It was a draghan. One of the legendary winged, fire-breathing reptiles from Firiehn. Not for the first time in her life, Brienne’s extra height gave her an advantage. She did not have to shove people aside or stand on her toes to see the monster, so she could study it from a safe distance. The beast was black as soot, but sparked with undertones of bronze where the torchlight played against its scales. About the size of the draft horses pulling the cart, Brienne was surprised the wheels hadn’t splintered beneath its weight. A triangular head decked in a crown of dark horns rested against powerful forearms ending in claws of a similar color. She couldn’t get a good look at its wings, for they were folded close to the monster’s body, held in place by the chains, its tail similarly curled and held close. Instinct told her the creature was injured, perhaps badly. Its eyes were shut, and its breathing was labored. She would bet all the money she carried with her the chains were not even necessary to keep it in place.
The voices of the crowd started to rise again, but before the men could even begin their inevitable demand that the creature be destroyed, she knew where this situation was headed. If they didn’t kill it outright, it would be sent to the Morrigan as tribute. That’s how things were done in and along the fringes of the war goddess’ territory. And this creature would keep her pacified for a very long time. Pity crashed into Brienne’s heart like a blacksmith’s hammer striking hot iron. She had been born into her servitude; had never known freedom but craved it with every fiber of her being. This draghan, by its very nature, was a wild creature never meant to be enslaved. If it became the property of the Morrigan, its spirit would be crushed.
One of the bystanders, a hunter or warrior from what Brienne could tell by his height and build, lifted a huge battle axe and roared above all the chatter, “Kill it before it regains its strength and flames us all!”
“No! Let us release it and make sport of it!” another interjected. “We managed to muzzle it with chains, and it is injured. The beast will not make it far. The man or woman to bring it down can have the head and hide!”
“Don’t be absurd!” one of the women cried. “Bring it to the Morrigan! If she discovers we had such a treasure and just wasted it, she will force us all into her army. Or worse, extract our glamour and discard us like husks.”
That set the crowd into a chorus of nervous rumbling, everyone shouting their own chosen demise for the draghan, each suggestion worse than the one before.
Brienne had seen enough suffering, enough death. She had been with the Morrigan long enough to know that people, and creatures, were not always what they seemed. Villains might be draped in expensive silks with alabaster skin and music in their voices. And those who wished to help you, or those simply wanting to protect the ones they loved, might appear on the outside as monsters.
She shot her gaze back toward the draghan and jumped in surprise to find its eyes had opened. The one she could see was a molten gold color, bright with intelligence and what might have been rage. But there was also a spark of fear there. Brienne narrowed her own eyes, holding the draghan’s regard a bit longer, and let her glamour feather outward. Her magic wasn’t as impressive as most in the Morrigan’s army, but she could sometimes filter out emotions. Anger, resentment, pride ... and hopelessness. It was that final bitter feeling, one she was so very familiar with, that snapped her into action.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” she muttered as she stepped forward, her right hand going for the pommel of the sword hanging at her side.
The mood of the crowd had shifted while she’d been considering the draghan. Apparently, a decision had been made, and that decision involved delivering the beast to the Tuatha De Danann goddess who terrorized their lands.
“But who will take it to the Morrigan? We are all busy with the harvest!” one man managed to shout over the general clamor.
“I cannot go, my children are sick!” a woman put in.
One by one, the villagers cried out with some excuse or another, age-old terror coloring their words. They feared the goddess who watched over their territory, but they feared her wrath more.
Brie wrapped her fingers around the grip of her sword and drew it in a long, dramatic arc that was more for show than anything else. The people closest to her shouted in surprise and jumped back, knocking into those standing beside them.
“I will take the creature!” she cried out above the noise. “I will deliver this draghan to the Morrigan.”
The conversation ceased as every pair of eyes in the village square turned to study this cloaked stranger. Brienne kept her hood up. If she could manage getting away without leaving them with a face to remember, she would be grateful.
“Why should we believe you?” one of the men asked. He had been the one to drive the wagon into town. “How do we know you do not wish to take it into the next town to demand a bounty?”
Shouts of ascent skittered through the crowd.
For a small moment, Brienne hesitated. What was she doing? Did she really want to risk leaving these people with a memory they could easily report to any of the Morrigan’s henchmen should they come searching for her? She loosened the iron grip she held on her sword, letting the tip sink further to the ground. Before she sheathed the weapon she glanced at the draghan once more. It was watching her, those ember-hued eyes wary and almost desperate.
Brie, you know more than anyone what it is to be enslaved. Can you really go on living with yourself if you allow it to happen to another creature, when you had the chance to stop it?
Brienne squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could convince them she meant what she said, that she’d bring this creature to the Morrigan. It meant they would remember her if her enemies came questioning, but she would just have to take that risk.
“Here goes,” she hissed to herself, as she reached up and pulled back her hood.
The crowd gasped, several people in front of her taking a step back.
“You should believe me,” she said softly, her pale blue eyes surveying the crowd, “because I am bound in service to the goddess of war.”
The woman closest to the cart lifted a hand, as if to run it over the side of her face, then snatched it away. Brienne fought the urge to do the same. She was used to the stares and looks of pity. The questions were always in the eyes of those who saw her ravaged face, though. Had the scars come from a wild animal? A horrific fire? Had her husband or lover taken his anger out on her and burned her face with a torch? No. The truth wasn’t as noble as any of that. She had refused a direct order from the Morrigan, and she had been thrown into the fire as punishment. Somehow, she had rolled out with damage done to only one side of her body, a few of the faelah in the camp adding a few more ugly marks by raking their claws at her as she rolled to put the flames out. That had been two years ago, but the agony still felt fresh.
“Dear gods . . .” one of the men murmured, pulling his young sons close and backing away.
“If this is not enough to convince you,” she added, gesturing to her damaged skin, “there is also this.”
She flung her cloak free of her left shoulder and reached up to pull her collar down, just enough to reveal the top of a disc-shaped tattoo staining the pale skin between her breast and collar bone.
More gasps from the crowd.
“Morrigan’s get!” an old woman hissed.
“Faeduihn!” another added.
Brienne shot her pale eyes in
the direction of that accusation. Her soul may have been stained because of her association with the goddess of wrath and ruin, but she knew the dark glamour had not infected her yet. She didn’t correct them, however. If she could get them to fear her, or at least believe her claims, the better her chances of escaping with the injured draghan.
“As you have said, my mistress desires creatures such as this. I will take it off your hands, so that you might get back to your own work.”
After a long moment of near silence, and a few quietly exchanged words between them, the cart driver said, “Very well. But we want this thing out of here tonight.”
Brienne fought the urge to release a heavy sigh. Instead, she nodded once.
“I can leave right now.”
Chapter Two
Brienne drove the draft horses a mile or so south of town. Her own horse, the one she had stolen from camp when she’d made her escape a week before, secured to the back of the cart. When they came to a crossroads she turned them left, choosing a path that would eventually take them back into the northern mountains, but hopefully, clear of any curious villagers or spies of the Morrigan. The sun had set, and they had maybe a half an hour before full dark settled in. She didn’t like the idea of making camp so close to the village, but they really had no choice.
Movement to her right caught Brie’s attention. A large white wolf with a ruddy tail and ears darted in and out of the scraggly wood before approaching them. The horses, already on edge because of the cargo they carried, snorted and pulled at their harnesses. Brienne only grinned.
A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology) Page 14