Darion looked up at the trees and saw how it happened. She had been flying and something, presumably the arrow, had struck her and caused an injury grave enough to send her crashing to the ground. However, based on the impact marks on the trees and ground, she had changed as she fell. That was smart, actually. Falling from a height would have crushed her, but in human form she would be much lighter. And much more fragile, he thought. Darion sniffed out the entire area, his nose on the ground like a wolf. There were a lot of scents here, but only two that concerned him. One was the blood of his sister, and the other was a human smell, musky with a sweaty tang.
Then he saw the footprints in the dying grass leading away from the crash site. His lip curled up. So, she had been taken. There were two sets of footprints, and one of them was sloppy, uneven. That would be his sister, she was injured. Alongside the footprints, the spatters of blood leaking from his sibling’s body lit up as if they glowed in the dark, so keen were his senses. Rage built up in him and Darion looked to the sky and bellowed, a long, menacing roar that echoed for seconds afterward. Then he willed his change, and Darion’s great serpent body melted away, leaving a naked human man standing alone in the forest. His green eyes were hot with anger, and his hands were clenched at his side.
Instantly, the fierce cold bit at Darion’s hot flesh. He took several calming breaths, finding his center. The trail of footprints led off further into the valley and who knew how far beyond it, but he could track them better as a man; there was no way he could maneuver through the forest as a dragon. He pulled the leather sack from around his neck and dressed himself. Then he started through the valley, picking his way along the same path his sister had been forced to take only hours before.
With each long hour that passed along her trail, Darion’s body became colder, but the rage inside him became hotter. Not only because of this humiliating and, frankly, freezing journey he had been forced to take, but because the trail of blood next to his sister’s footprints never faded, never lessened. Whatever cruel asshole had taken her had let Skye continue to bleed out the whole way. She would be dying by now, he thought. Even their kind could be killed, especially in their human form. They only had a few precious liters of blood, and he dared not even guess at how much of his sister’s he had already passed tonight.
As full dark fell over the valley, it began to snow. Big fluffy puffs of the frozen stuff fell all around Darion and on him, lodging in his short, spiked hair before melting against his scalp. He flexed and unflexed his fists, trying to keep the blood moving in them. Gods he was cold. He was climbing now, finally leaving the valley, but the air was colder up here. It burned him, piercing his thin human skin and penetrating deep into his muscles. He felt helpless. Ironic really, he thought, that he was filled with fire and power, yet still freezing in this cold, harsh world.
By the time he reached the peak of the ridgeline, he was growing numb. His legs and feet felt disembodied, and he didn’t know how he was still even moving. He looked back the way he had come. Blackness, nothing but night. He couldn’t even see the black ridge back there. Then to the east, more night, more nothing. But there was something else, something on the wind. He could smell sweat, excretions, and fear.
Darrion listened, his head cocked slightly. He heard the small night creatures of the forest, but he also heart a great collection of hearts, pumping hard and true. Humans. They were near. The fire boiled up in him again and he looked to the sky. He could will the change and take flight, then follow the human scent and destroy them all. No, foolish, stupid really. If Skye was still alive, and judging by her trail of blood, she had been only hours ago, he might kill her unintentionally. In her fragile human body she would be just as susceptible to fire as any of the monsters that took her.
He glowered in the night. Snow was accumulating fast all around, and even the snow that fell on him was no longer melting because he was so cold. Trudging forward into the black of night, Darion felt himself nearing a moment of clarity, or maybe delirium, he didn’t really know.
Humans. At that moment he didn’t hate them, the hatred had gone a little numb, along with his limbs. He felt, detached. Darion thought back to what he knew of the humans. He’d had formal schooling, just like most in the kingdom, but being a prince, he’d had many years of additional education. There was a time when the humans and dragons had been very close. It was in a place far away, across two green seas. It was in the great rift valley, a hot place teeming with life where humanity had first emerged. Humanity as a species had been evolving for thousands of years before homo sapiens emerged. Then, there was a period of explosive growth, and in that time, homo sapiens, homo neanderthalensis and homo dracones existed together, and in close proximity.
While homo sapiens flourished and proliferated with viral magnitude, homo neanderthalensis floundered, unable to hunt and trap as well as homo sapien. While homo sapien was smaller and less robust than homo neanderthalensis, their brains were larger, giving them the ability to adapt to new surroundings, communicate more efficiently, and create complex tools. Neanderthalensis was starved and bred into extinction.
Homo dracones also flourished, but not in the same manner as homo sapiens. They did not proliferate as quickly, did not multiply beyond their means. Dracones lived a much longer life than homo sapiens, each individual enjoying 300-400 years before the earth reclaimed them. This longer life led to a slower, more conservative spread of their species. After a thousand years of coexistence, homo sapiens outnumbered homo dracones 1000 to 1. It was then that the agreement was made, the separation. Dracones would go south and east from the Valley, Sapiens would go north and west. And so it was.
The humans spread their virulent seed across the continents, filling every crevice, every valley and hillock. The dragons flew east, raising settlements across lower Asia, before finally venturing over the great sea, the only sea Darion had ever seen, and they found the paradise of the coast of California. Over time, the history of men and dragons changed, evolved. Wars had been fought and lost between men, rival clans of dragons had slaughtered each other, but largely, they remained separate.
It was only in the last hundred years that humans had emerged on his father’s land. Living memory of the dragons had faded out of humanity, it seemed. It was only a matter of time, his tutors had explained. Homo sapiens could not stop their reproductive habits; they were a slave to their desires. They would soon flood all of the lands. ‘And what then?’ Darion had asked. ‘Then, we will need to evolve once more.’
Darion stumbled, falling head over ass down a rocky ravine. He hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder. He felt a pop in his chest as a rib broke. He groaned in pain, but lay still, unable to right himself. He had started out this trek with fire in his heart and a hard determination, but now he felt like he had nothing left. He was broken and cold, and lacked even the energy to fight for his own life. He thought about Naida as he lay there. Earlier in the day her curvy body had been all over him, keeping him warm, keeping him pleased. She wasn’t a girlfriend, not really, she was a concubine, a paramour; but maybe she could be something more. He wished she was here with him, to give him some relief from the cold. Is this how I’m going to die? Alone in the woods, many miles from home? That didn’t seem right. He had always envisioned his death happening in some glorious battle, or maybe being ridden by a fine younger woman when he was good and old.
“Not like this though,” he mumbled to the night. Not all alone, not frozen and forgotten in this godforsaken land, laid up in a gulch like a deer who’d strayed too far from its mother. But what could he do? He couldn’t change now. His core was already too cold, and he would freeze to death sooner in his reptilian form.
Darion closed his eyes and breathed, once, twice. Then he pulled his legs up underneath him, as tight as he could. The leather of his pants complained but eventually complied with the abuse. He was crunched into a fetal position facing down the rocky gorge. He couldn’t see anything around him. The gorge
could drop off into a cliff only feet away for all he knew. He pulled in another long breath and that’s when he smelled it. Humans, but not far off, not a camp hidden somewhere deeper in these woods; he smelled it close by. He looked into himself and did his best to clear the pain from his mind.
“Help me to see,” he whispered quietly, then opened his eyes. He saw her scent then, brushed against the nearby trees. There were also tiny smears of blood on the trees where his sister had rubbed against them, leaving a trail to follow. All around on those same trees was the scent of her human captor. Like a faintly glowing line, he could see their path through the forest. He wasn't far off. In fact, based on the strong mix of smells in the snowy ground around him, they may have come through this same ravine. It was impossible to be sure, with all the snow on the ground, but Darion became more certain of it when he spotted a rub of blood only feet from his face on a piece of partially covered underbrush.
Darion reached out with one arm and slowly swung it through the air, hoping for - got it! Darion’s hand clamped down on the young tree trunk nearby. He had to make this good, he might not get another chance. One, two, three, go pain! He cursed as he heaved on the tree and sprung his legs out at the same time. With a great howl of pain Darion rose from the ground, and nearly toppled over again. He hugged the tree close to him, steadying his body as it swayed with pain and dizziness. His vision grew even darker for a moment when a burst of intense heat leapt from his broken ribs, but he willed it back under his control. He took one step, then two more, and he was on the same path as his sister and her abductor. He moved with incredible slowness. Simply raising and lowering each leg took all of his strength. Remaining upright was testing all of his fortitude.
“They can’t be much farther,” he said. Because if they are, I’ll be dead.
Deeper and deeper into the wooded vale he stumbled, delirious with cold. He was uncoordinated, like a drunk baby trying to find its way to its mother’s teat. The human smells were so strong now that he could not differentiate his sister’s scent at all. Toward the smell of warm bodies he struggled onward, determined to make it to his destination. And when he got there? He didn’t know, he had no strength left to think, and barely enough to keep his frozen muscles moving. Darion leaned too far forward and tripped, then slipped down a little washout, rolled once and smacked his head into a stone on the ground. His vision disappeared completely and Darion entered a cold sleep.
Chapter Ten
Mikhael studied the blonde woman as he wrapped thick blankets around her. She was so pale, the color of fresh snow, but she didn’t look unhealthy, well, apart from her injuries. She looked - beautiful. There were no women like this in the village, and in all his life he had never seen anything as beautiful as her. He felt a nervous buzzing in his chest just being close to her.
“What’s your name?” he asked softly.
“I am Skye,” the woman answered. She stared down at the floor, not raising her head to look at him.
“Skye… That’s a beautiful name. I’m going to have some coffee, Skye, would you like some?”
Skye started to nod, then paused.
“What is it?” he asked.
“The old woman poisoned me with tea.”
He nodded in understanding. “Well, she didn’t poison you. It’s a simple sleeping remedy, made of the ground up root of the Wolf weed. It’s not harmful.” He paused, considering his words. “I won’t do that to you; I promise.”
“Do you keep your promises?” she asked, and raised her eyes to meet his. They were a beautiful green, deep and clear. He could get lost in eyes like those.
“I always do, Skye,” Mikhael said. He held her stare for longer than he had planned. She was mesmerizing. “I’ll get you something to eat as well,” he said and turned away to his small kitchen.
His home was little, but larger than all of the homes under the ceiling. It was more dangerous out here, but he just couldn’t live in the perpetual twilight of the artificial ceiling. He needed air and light and space. Otherwise he just didn’t feel connected to the world.
The house was camouflaged well, and Mikhael had never felt that living out here put him in harm’s way, but he must be vigilant nonetheless. Mikhael didn’t feel vigilant this morning though, he felt oddly out of place, and honestly a little ashamed at what he had witnessed. Mikhael had not been born in the village. His family were pioneers heading out to the far west when they came across the tiny village. Frightened by stories the villagers told of winged monsters in the west, but too low on supplies and energy to make the trip back east, his family had stayed. That was a decade ago, when Mikhael was only a boy of fifteen. They weren’t the last pioneers to come across the little village; just two years ago a man and a woman stumbled into the village out of a snowstorm. The couple stayed for a week and decided to press on to the west, and were never seen again.
Mikhael poured hot water into the tin coffee maker. Then he brushed his hair away from his face and sighed. This was an uncomfortable spot he found himself in. He wished his father was here; he would know how to handle this situation, but the old man had been killed during their third winter in the high forests. Mikael put his hands on the counter, leaning onto them. He stared down at large hands with big knobby knuckles. He was only twenty five but his hands looked like they had lived lifetimes, covered with small nicks and scrapes, calloused and rough. He glanced back over to the girl in the next room.
Jenisia had lost it with her. He knew she wanted to avenge her family more than anything, but they couldn’t torture this woman, regardless of where she came from or what she was made of. His empathy for the girl was mixed with shame for how Jenisia had behaved, and a strange remorsefulness, because he had also betrayed Jenisia in a way. Just two nights ago he had lain with Jenisia and thought she would make a good wife. She was strong, hardworking, and fiercely passionate. Now, the mere presence of Skye made his head feel cloudy and conflicted. There were going to be consequences for his actions this morning, of that he was sure. As passionate as Jenisia was in bed… well, he had raised her ire once before, and he wasn’t looking forward to the backlash of standing up to her. He poured coffee into clay mugs and grabbed a two-ounce chunk of venison jerky, then walked back to Skye.
His sitting room consisted of a fireplace and two squat chairs. He didn’t have much, but he didn’t need much. Mikhael handed a cup of coffee to the woman and sat down next to her. He gave her the jerky.
“It’s spicy,” he warned her.
“That’s fine,” she said.
Mikhael held his mug with both hands and looked down into the black liquid.
“So, is any of what Jenisia said true?”
Skye looked at him and then back to her coffee.
“Listen, it’s going to be easier if you tell me, because if they come back and I don’t have answers for them, well, I can’t say what will happen to you.” Mikhael fixed her with a stare that he hoped was both kind, but serious.
“Is she your lover?” Skye asked.
“Is she my-” Mikhael repeated blankly.
“I could see it in her eyes. She felt betrayed when you stepped in this morning.”
“Jen and I have a history, yes.”
Skye nodded.
“Please, let me help you.”
“And what if it is true, the things she said? Would you still help me then?”
Mikhael didn’t speak right away and neither did Skye, they just observed each other. Skye didn’t look as scared and frail as he’d initially thought. She watched him with intelligent eyes that held great depths. They were eyes that knew much more than she would say. He felt like there were words being spoken silently between them. She was different, that was very clear.
“Not all of us are like Jenisia, she is-”
“She was hurt, deeply,” Skye said, never breaking eye contact. “She carries great wounds.”
Mikhael nodded. “That doesn’t excuse what she’s done to you.”
Skye li
fted her arm and glanced down its length. The bleeding had been stopped, and she was already feeling a little better. She looked back to Mikhael and shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe it does. My bones are broken, but they will heal. My body will mend and I will be strong once more. Jenisia’s wounds will never heal, because she will never find the creature that killed her family.”
“That still doesn’t excuse her methods,” Michael reassured her. “But you need to tell me the truth.”
Though the house was silent, Mikhael heard something, or maybe just felt it, a buzzing, a humming of tension between them. It was an anxiety that begged to be quenched, but with what?
“I want to help you, Skye.”
Another few silent moments passed before Skye spoke again. “I am different,” she said simply. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
Suddenly Mikhael’s heart beat louder in his chest, and he felt a tingling heat rise up through his body. The way she looked at him… It was as if she knew him, knew all of his secrets, knew all of his desires. Mikhael blew hot a breath out of his nose. “I don’t know what to tell them.”
Skye bit into the jerky and Mikhael watched. It was a strange thing, watching her. The way she ate, the way she drank, it was - alluring, as if everything she did was made to entice him. That was silly, he knew that. This beautiful creature hadn’t been made just to appeal to him, but maybe he was made for her. Skye drank her coffee and then extended a thin arm toward him. He watched the hand approach, watched in slow motion as it crossed the distance between them. She hovered just a moment and then touched his arm. His skin trembled at her touch and he felt gooseflesh rise up over his arms and chest. She was - magical.
A Plague of Dragons (A Dragon Anthology) Page 36