A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology)

by Jason LaVelle

As Brienne prepared the vegetables in a simple stew over the fire, the man in question kept casting her assessing looks. She felt self-conscious under his scrutiny, but she assumed he simply wished to check that she had recovered from the night before. Had he been Faelorehn, she might be entirely mortified by her behavior and the story she had shared with him, but he was not. He was of Firiehn and he would be returning home soon. Brienne furrowed her brow at the mild ache that particular thought caused, but shrugged it off just as easily. This had been the goal from the beginning, and it was an honorable one. She had no reason to feel any regret.

  After eating and cleaning up, they were on the move again. By midday, the trail they followed had twisted around the back side of the mountains, the trees and plant life becoming scarcer as the land grew more steep and rocky. Several yards below the path, a river tore down the canyon, separating their mountain from the next. Despite the comfortable width of the road, Brienne guided everyone into single file and clung closely to the mountainside to err on the side of caution.

  They were making great progress until the trail curved to cross a stone bridge that had crumbled away in some natural disaster not too long ago. Brienne stepped up to the edge of the gorge and stared grimly down at the mad rush of water far below. There was no crossing the river here, and she knew this was the road leading to the gateway into Firiehn. She peered to her left where a game trail continued to hug the mountainside. Brienne compressed her lips into a grim line. They would have to follow the narrower path until a safer route across made itself available.

  She glanced back at Dorran, wondering if he was well enough yet to change back into draghan form and fly them over the gorge. She pondered what that might be like, perched upon his back, the cold wind tossing her hair. The rough scales and the ripple of powerful muscle beneath her palms. An enticing shiver ran down her spine, and Brie had to force such thoughts away.

  Huffing out a breath of slight irritation, she threw an arm out, indicating the wide gap in the land before them.

  “We cannot cross. The cliffs are too steep and the current too fast. We’ll need to travel upriver for a spell. There may be a bridge farther up, or a place where the water is calmer.”

  Dorran only gave her that curt nod she’d grown so used to. He reached down and pulled Dair’s reins from her hand and placed a tentative step onto the trail ahead of her, testing the stability of this new, less inviting path.

  “No, you don’t have to go fir–”

  He cut her off with a dark glare.

  “Tothe rin ne nacha solan, coriehl. Meht uchar dur rovann conna eht capar.”

  He pressed a hand to his chest, then gestured toward the game path before gently pulling on Dair’s reins. She opened her mouth to argue with whatever it was he’d said, but he was already picking his way down the narrow ribbon of earth, Dair placing careful hooves upon lose stones behind him.

  “Stubborn man,” Brienne muttered to herself, following along just as gingerly.

  As had become their custom, Brie and Dorran entered into one of their odd conversations to pass the time. She didn’t speak of her bad memories, she had divulged enough of that sad story earlier in the morning. Instead, she tried to get him to share more of his life. His tone, when he did speak, was hard to place. Neither grim nor light, but not bland either. For all she could tell, he was reciting a saga that was part of his people’s history, or repeating an embarrassing anecdote from his childhood. She hoped he wasn’t stating, in great detail, how he and his draghan comrades planned to capture her and roast her for dinner once they were reunited in Firiehn.

  Brienne gave a mental snort, the corner of her mouth curving up a bit. Now that was a comment Mynne might have made, but her spirit guide was several paces behind, her ears pricked as they listened for sounds over the roaring water below. And besides, Brienne highly doubted Dorran planned such deviousness. She liked listening to his deep, pleasant voice and realized it was not as raspy as it had been when he’d first taken his more Faelorehn form. He also laughed every now and then as the day progressed, as if his story was something brighter, lighter than the ones she could recall of her own past. But it was when he would pause and turn to look at her, a small smile on his face and fire leaping in his changeable, carnelian eyes that made her heart slip a little more.

  She would return the smile, wondering what shade her normally blue irises had taken. She could only assume they changed as easily as his did, for she could feel her emotions struggling to remain dormant as they always had before he had come into her life.

  I think this draghan shifter has become beguiled by you as well, Mynne mentioned in passing, her tone teasing.

  The sudden intrusion of her spirit guide’s words caused Brie to miss her step. Instantly, Dorran was there, just in front of and to the right of her, placing his body between her and the steep drop on the other side. Her eyes had grown wide, her breath caught in her throat. Gods and goddesses, she could have tripped and fallen into the river ... But what had her even more caught up in shock was the speed at which Dorran had moved. She lifted her eyes to his and almost shuddered. The humor was gone, dark fire replacing what had moments ago been sparking mirth.

  He growled something she was certain was chastisement, and with heated cheeks, she apologized for her awkward footing. Dorran had grasped her elbow in his strong fingers, but his grip relaxed and he stepped forward, returning to Dair who waited a few feet up the trail.

  Brienne cursed at herself for being such a clumsy fool and shifted her weight, preparing to take the next step following Dorran.

  The unstable path below her suddenly gave out, and Brie’s stomach leapt into her throat, choking off her cry of fear. Her fingers clutched empty air and before she could register all that was happening, her body fell in a chaotic tumble against the side of the mountain as it hurtled toward the river below.

  A sharp pain to her shoulder, a flash of gray sky above and then nothing for a split second before she slammed against a frigid wall of pain. White, writhing water engulfed her, and Brienne managed one more gasp of shock before the river pulled her under. She had thought crashing down the mountainside had been painful, but this was worse. The fast-moving water slammed her against boulders crowding the riverbed, and the press of the cold snow melt and lack of air made her lungs burn. She grasped blindly with her hands and arms, praying to the gods and goddesses of Eile that she might find purchase on something. A tree root, the jagged edge of a rock. Anything that would pull her from this horrible, churning torment.

  Brienne!

  Brienne fought hard against the current and the pain and the cold. It was like her nightmares come to life, only this dream she could not wake from. Her arms and legs were growing numb and weak. She had been too long without air.

  Brienne! Please, hold on! We are coming for you!

  I can’t hold on, she tried to send.

  Brienne couldn’t tell if the words made it into Mynne’s mind, but she was out of time. Her thoughts were fading, yet before they slipped free of her grip entirely, she sensed a small disturbance penetrate the loud, crushing power of the water.

  What it might be, she could not say. She was fading; the whole world was dimming to black. She opened her mouth one last time, the burning in her lungs unbearable. As the last remaining light flickered out of existence, a band of strength and heat enveloped her, tugging against the river’s deadly embrace.

  Too late, Brienne thought miserably as she drifted away. Too late, too late, too late ...

  ***

  The world was so very white, as if the inky clouds crowding the sky had breathed frost and snow over everything. So bright it hurt Brienne’s eyes, even though they were closed tight against it.

  She drew in a deep breath, almost crying out at the joy of it. She was no longer trapped within the river. She could breathe freely once again. Or perhaps she was dead. She didn’t care. The sharp pain in her lungs was gone and her skin … She shifted, stretching her toes and pulling her f
ingers into a fist.

  “Nacht, coriehl mehr, nacht. Bheth schetha.”

  The source of the great warmth stirred, and Brienne drew in another sharp breath as flesh as hot as a low-burning fire pressed against hers. Hungry for the heat, she drew herself into it, half delirious, unaware and uncaring where the warmth was coming from. She needed more of it. Her body had been nearly frozen down to the marrow of her bones.

  “Madtha, corah mehr. Madtha. Syra richta eht firiehlem, drana ne ost meht.”

  She didn’t understand the words, but there was kindness to them. Compassion, affection even, and she craved them as much as she craved the heat.

  Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. A heavy weight, a leg perhaps, draped over her own, adding more heat, and her cheek came to rest against a smooth surface of skin radiating strength and the scent of smoke and evergreens. A deep, rhythmic heartbeat played against her ear, and the rise and fall of the heated body under her gave her the answer she sought. She wasn’t dead. There was life beside her and beneath her, and it was feeding her the comfort and warmth she so desperately needed. Brienne sighed and gave herself over. For the first time in her entire life, she felt safe. Truly, utterly safe. And that feeling was so strong, so raw, it brought tears to her eyes.

  Her breathing slowed and evened out, and soon, the drowsiness that hadn’t quite left her swooped back in and took her off to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  Brienne stood beneath the deep blue curtain of early dawn light, one of the long, white linen shirts she’d taken from the abandoned cabin falling just to the point above her knees. She clasped the elbow of one arm, letting the other hang limply by her side, as she watched the stark white rush of water before her. The same water which had tried to steal her from this life and cast her into Donn’s underworld not too long ago. A sudden breath expanded her lungs, still aching from yesterday’s ordeal, but she would not complain. Never again would she complain about breathing, even if the air sliced at her lungs with the presence of winter’s frost.

  Ice coated the ground beneath her bare feet, but she did not care. She had woken from a dreamless sleep not a half an hour ago to find she was alone in an unfamiliar campsite. A fire had burned beside her bedroll, but it was all ash and lingering smoke now. Despite the layers of blankets piled over her, she felt cold, empty. As if the internal spark of her very soul had been snuffed out, and she needed something, someone, to relight it.

  And so, with a strange restlessness stirring in her breast, she had risen and come to stand beside the river, still loud as the water rushed by, but not so violent. The land not so steep here. The cold air drew a shiver from her, but she did not care. She was alive and her emotions were as tumultuous as the frigid river before her, loud and raucous and ringing in her head, doing its best to silence the ever present noise of her own dark thoughts.

  Perhaps, that is why she did not hear Dorran’s approach, only noting his presence when the heat and inner strength radiating from his body caressed her own aura. He came to rest mere inches away from her, and although she did not face him, she allowed her eyes to drift shut, resisting the urge to lean into him. She could not, would not take that one small step down the narrow path of attraction which had gradually strengthened since she first laid eyes upon his Firiehn form. It did not matter that he was that spark she needed, the one to reignite her cold soul.

  Apparently, she had not been hiding her emotions well enough because in the next heartbeat Dorran made that decision for her. He closed the small distance between them and scooped her up in his strong arms. And Brie did nothing to resist him. Instead, she wilted into his warmth even if he only meant to help her make her way back to the campfire. After yesterday’s accident, she hadn’t the strength nor the willpower to stubbornly insist on moving about on her own. Even her short walk to the riverbed had drained her. Instead, she allowed her head to loll against his shoulder, the overwhelming smolder of his draghan heat melting past that icy wall she had thrown up to keep others out.

  In a moment of uncontrolled impulse, she pulled her head back and looked up at him only to find those molten eyes fixed on her. He walked on, back toward their camp, not once getting tripped up by stray stones or tree roots. Yet, he only watched her, his eyes, both their color and their intent, burning fiercely.

  Perhaps she was too tired to think of the consequences of her actions, because Brienne lifted a hand and placed it against his cheek. His natural warmth thawed her icy fingers further, the thick stubble of his unshaved beard scratching lightly against her palm.

  “You are so beautiful,” she murmured.

  And then, she surprised both of them by reaching up and pressing her mouth to his in an unguarded kiss.

  Dorran, it seemed, had been thinking along the same lines because he did not flinch in surprise at her actions, nor did he pull back. Instead, he came to a stop in the middle of their campsite and allowed her to slide into a standing position, never once breaking their kiss. And now, he was the one to initiate.

  He drove his fingers into her hair and pressed her up against a nearby tree, not hard enough to abrade her skin, but just enough to let her know he had been holding back his own passion as well. And if his eager ministrations weren’t evidence enough, the press of his hard, heated arousal into her belly confirmed it.

  Dorran broke their kiss just long enough for them to draw breath, but Brienne was eager to continue. She had tossed aside her rational thoughts and wanted only to feel this man who had bewitched her in his silent strength, in those intelligent, flame-colored eyes of his. She didn’t care what became of their actions only that they followed through with them.

  Brienne parted her lips, and Dorran accepted the seductive invitation, slipping his tongue between her teeth. Brie shivered and clung to his tunic as he lowered them both to the bed of blankets scattered upon the ground. The coals from the night before flared up suddenly, before settling down into hot ash and a few bright embers. But they needed no fire. Their shared passion provided plenty of heat for the both of them.

  Dorran pulled away and paused in his fervor, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other pressed flat against her heart. He suspended himself mere inches above her, but she could feel the strain in his muscles as he held back. He murmured something in that beautiful language of his, a question, and although Brienne didn’t understand it, she could comprehend it: Do you wish to continue?

  Brie nodded her head and placed her hands on either side of his face once more, her thumbs tracing over the rough stubble darkening his chin after smoothing over his full lips.

  “Yes,” she rasped, then drew her hands down his neck and pushed back his shirt, rocking her hips forward in case he missed her meaning. “Please.”

  Dorran knelt above her, one knee on either side of her own legs. He peeled his shirt off, exposing a broad, muscled chest etched with scars and those intriguing tattoos. Unable to help herself, Brienne reached forward and worked on his trousers. He hissed when his erection sprang free, and Brie’s mouth went dry. Spirits of Eile, were all Firiehn men so large? She paused for the smallest of moments, waiting for that bone-deep fear to clutch her heart. This should terrify her, this level of intimacy with a man. It should remind her of what she had endured the past few years. But it didn’t. Maybe because she had healed, somehow, on the road with Dorran. Or maybe because her spirit knew he would never hurt her. Either way, that paralyzing panic never came. Only warmth, and desire, and impatience.

  Brienne wasn’t given much more time to dwell on her absent misgivings, however. Dorran’s own patience had fled, and he abruptly lowered himself to reignite the kiss from earlier. His fingers traveled down her sides, all the way to her thighs. Slowly, in a seductive dance, he traced his fingertips back up her body, taking the thin shirt with them. The cold air should have chilled Brienne’s naked flesh, but not with the attention Dorran was offering her, and not with his searing, Firiehn blood warming her like a furnace.

 
Dorran slowed his exploration of her body, his knuckles grazing Brienne’s skin where red scars spread like splotches of dye spilled upon a tiled floor. He studied her there, where the flames and coals had left their damage, and spoke soothing words in his native tongue, bending to kiss the discolored area with such sweet reverence. His voice was soft and deep, its tone and timber chasing away any last qualms she might harbor about her physical appearance. As a result, her body and soul hummed with pleasure. He wasn’t horrified by her scars. Not disgusted. That thought alone brought more tears to Brienne’s eyes.

  “Brienne,” Dorran said, her name a song on his tongue. “Corah mehr.”

  She helped him pull the shirt over her head, and then, she lay before him, naked and utterly exposed. But fear was no longer a thought flitting across her mind, not when his burning eyes roved over her, caressing her as if she was the sight of home after several long months on campaign.

  He leaned down once more, capturing her lips in a long, sensuous kiss, his tongue brushing against hers, as they both worked to drag his trousers free of his legs. Once the pants were cast aside and forgotten, Dorran lowered his mouth to Brie’s neck, nipping and licking her skin as he traced one hand down, between her breasts, lower, until his long fingers found the source of her own heat. Brienne gasped, and Dorran caught it with his mouth, his lips joining hers as he stroked her, slow and gentle, then more firm and insistent. His mouth traveled down her skin, leaving a trail of blazing heat in its wake, before coming to a halt when he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue lapping in time with the thrust of his fingers. By the time he removed his hand, Brienne was crying out his name, his attentions leaving her breathless with pleasure.

  Before she could return the favor, however, he was moving once more, positioning himself above her. With the nudge of a knee, he gently pushed one of her legs aside, his intent obvious. Brienne readied herself for him, clutching at his forearms, her fingers tightening over his biceps. Dorran pressed at her entrance, but paused, his face strained and serious as he gazed down at her.