To Light the Dragon's Fire

by Margaret Taylor

  Which worried him. Greatly.

  If she was alright, he should have sent Ion with word, or even returned himself.

  If she was not…

  No! He would not allow such thoughts to invade. He could not!

  Her death would be on his hands, no one else’s. Ever. And that was a guilt he wasn’t sure he could live with.

  He’d tried so very hard to keep her safe. Avoided her with every fiber of his being but ended up her downfall anyway!

  No! She was alive! The arrows weren’t that deep!

  The doctors would be able to save her. She’d be fine. Just fine.

  Then why hasn’t someone come to tell you that?

  They, they do not know, that is all. They are still working on her.

  It was reasonable. Wasn’t it?

  Yes, yes it was.

  It is just taking longer to get her fixed up. That had to be it.

  He clung to the miniscule flare of hope, clutching it like a lifeline in his mind.

  She had to be alright. He wouldn’t lose her. He couldn’t.

  She was his Lyra, his protector. She’d proven it time and again. She’d defended him every chance she had, even jumping in front of the arrows meant for him during the fight.

  She would not have had too if you had walked away!

  He spun and punched the wall, again, hearing but not caring when yet another knuckle broke.

  If he hadn’t allowed Kru to bait him!

  Punch…crack…

  If he hadn’t allowed her tears to send him into a blinding rage!

  Thwack…crack, crack…

  A rustle of cloth interrupted his tirade and he whipped around so fast he made himself dizzy with it.

  Ion stood on the other side of the gate, Draven in the same chair as before. The look on his Liege’s face said it all and he thudded to his knees in the middle of the cell, bloody, broken hands limp and lifeless on his thighs.

  Draven leaned up in the chair and grasped the bars with his working hand, pulling himself closer.

  He shook his head slowly, denying the words before they were even spoken.

  “Arin.” The man he trusted more than any other didn’t need to say it, it was right there in his eyes, but he did, tearing the reality of hope right out from under him. “I am sorry. She passed through the Veil.”

  ***

  “Quickly, we must move quickly.”

  The Crone Mother’s authoritative voice washed over Nurse Wenlu. “Excuse me?”

  The ancient Harpy nudged her back from the bed. The sheet she’d been pulling over the deceased drifted from her claws and the black eyes she’d always feared, bored into hers.

  “I said, we must move quickly. There is nay much time to finish this.”

  Wenlu gulped and moved aside. One didn’t argue with The Crone, not when she carried that look. “What do you need from me?”

  “Bring me rokan seeds, yieko petals, a fresh kaina root – make sure it was brought in this daylight – and two, just two, deotoe berries, ripe ones.” When she didn’t move, the Crone snapped two claws in front of her face. “Go. Now. Now!”

  She scurried off, gathered the requested items from a cabinet in the drug room and returned. By the time she did, the room had changed. Gone were the machines that had kept track of statistics. All that remained was the bed, The Crone, and a table with a large bowl being warmed by the burner under it.

  She placed the items on the table and the Crone snatched them up.

  Wenlu watched, equal parts impressed and fascinated as the seeds, petals and root were dumped in. Crushed by one of the Crone’s fingers, she picked up the berries and squeezed the juice out over the mixture. A stench similar to that of War Dog excrement filled the small room and she coughed hard as the older Harpy stirred everything together with a talon.

  She said nothing. There was no words spoken, no spell cast. She merely stirred, waiting for the concoction to bubble. When it had, she kept stirring with one talon and lifted the bowl with the other hand. Nodding toward the bed, she finally spoke. “Open the mouth.”

  Wenlu jerked into action and did as she was bade.

  Crone Mother let the coagulating goop slowly pour from the bowl. “Massage the throat, gently.”

  “What are you doing?” Wenlu managed to ask over the stench filling the air.

  “Countering an evil that should never have been born,” The Crone bit out. “Keep massaging, it must all go down…”

  ***

  Two full rotations passed before Terra did much more than stagger lifelessly to the bathroom and back again. She lay on the bed, tears leaking from her eyes in spurts, ebbing and flowing like a summer’s storm. Her face remained the same, impassive stone she’d had in the clinic and she said nothing.

  Draven couldn’t imagine what she was feeling and that just made his desire to kill something, or someone all the more intense. For all his stature in this world, he was powerless to ease the grief from her face, or her heart, or her soul and it was slowly killing him.

  “Sire?” Ion called out softly from the doorway. “There is news.”

  He spun the chair around and rolled into the living area.

  Ion leaned back against the low credenza under the window, crossing his arms. “I finally had an opportunity to speak with someone back home,” he said quietly.

  “And?”

  A huff of air sighed across his lips. “It is not good. The Griffon’s, Ogre’s, Centaur’s and Orc’s have openly declared against the 3rd Kingdom. The troops dispatched to retrieve the Advisor procured one of the new ships and will be here on the daylight. He is to stand trial for his crimes.”

  He blinked. “Crimes? What crimes?”

  Another huff of air and Ion pinched a hand over his forehead. “Advisor Manus was initially suspected of the bombing and it has been further solidified with evidence the Investigator found in his quarters and at an off-building facility.”

  “I am going to guess that is the real culprit’s doing?”

  Ion tucked the hand back under his arm. “That was my initial thought, yes. But who could it be?”

  “Golix.”

  The one word in Terra’s voice turned him back to the bedroom. She leaned against the jamb, her hair mussed and matted, her eyes red-rimmed and haunted, but she was upright and she’d spoken, which was more than she’d done since they’d returned to Arin’s home.

  “It has to be Golix. It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she said, her voice just a little stronger. She wrapped her arms around her middle and explained in a low whisper. “It’s the same thing in any corporate takeover. You get rid of any who would oppose you, by hook or sometimes by crook. Once the way is clear, you step in and take control with no fuss, no muss.”

  He didn’t know the meaning of all the words, but overall it did make sense. With him off the throne, his second accused of the death, along with many others, there weren’t many who could or would fill the vacuum of power left in his wake.

  Except…one.

  Ion seemed to have the same thought because they both said a name at the exact same time.

  “Cannis…”

  ***

  Arin hadn’t moved from the last time Draven had seen him. He was still in the middle of his cell, though he had fallen over at some point and curled into a fetal position. The four meal trays that had been slid under the bars hadn’t been touched and his friends eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance.

  He hadn’t shaved, or washed and the stench of bodily fluids reeked across the dust filled air. The blood on his hands had coagulated and his fingers were an ugly, purple compilation of bruises and cuts. “Why has my Advisor not been given medical care, 1st Commander Hunir?”

  The Chimera behind him cleared his throats nervously. “We have tried,” the left head said. “But each time we enter the cell…” the right started, before the words faltered. “He has gone Feral, Sire,” they finished in unison.

  He didn’t believe that for a hea
rtbeat. Arin was grieving yes, but he wasn’t so far gone to be completely insane! He sniffed and lifted the cane the Harpy Doctor had given him just that daylight when she’d removed the cast on his foot. “Manus,” he barked, wrapping the end smartly across the bars. “On your feet soldier!”

  Arin’s eyes blinked and a low growl rumbled up from his chest.

  Fair enough. Maybe the Commander’s assessment was right and his friend was gone. He squatted to see into his eyes and a flash of anger mixed with agony rolled through the golden pools.

  No, he was still in there. Pissed as all the levels of the Nether World’s, but in there.

  He leaned a cheek against the cane, sighing softly. “You know this is not helping matters. There are things yet to be done.”

  Arin’s throat cleared, the question coming out in a soft, rumbling croak. “Like what?”

  There he was.

  Relieved, he rose and folded both hands over top of the cane. “Well, first and foremost, there is the matter of your trial. We will have to clear your name and to do that I need you on your feet and functional. Secondly, there is the little matter of who killed your Lyra. Would you not like to rip the horn right off a certain Unicorn we both know and despise?”

  That did it. Arin shot to his feet and slammed against the bars. His hands stretched through to grab his shirt and yank him forward until their noses practically touched. “Where, is, he?”

  He didn’t resist, but could hear the Commander shifting to intervene. Discretely waving him back with the cane, he patted Arin’s clenched fist and stared into his friends blazingly angry eyes. “I do not know, yet. But the only way we are going to find him, is together.”

  Arin’s fingers relaxed but didn’t let go completely. His forehead thunked against the bars and his eyes slipped closed, a great sigh lifting his shoulders. “Fine. What is the plan?”

  ***

  The icy air bit across her cheeks, rousing her enough to open her eyes. She was in the park just below the apartment and she tilted a look up at the deep blue, December sky.

  She’d fallen asleep? She’d done it before, sure, but never in the middle of winter.

  She searched either side of the bench for whatever book she might have brought along, but there wasn’t one nearby.

  Standing, she gazed out over the Denver, Colorado skyline. Nothing had changed. The buildings were as tall as she remembered, all glass and impersonal but with just enough flare to be flashy. A light dusting of snow covered the grass but it was unbroken by the normal mid-day foot traffic.

  In fact, no one was in the park.

  Which was weird in and of itself! There should be.

  This was the first sunny day in months, if memory served and there had been a number of people that braved the bitter cold for a brief glimpse of the sun…

  So, where was everyone now?

  A soft, melodious voice from her past spoke off to the left. “They are gone.”

  She blinked at the tall, older version of herself casually strolling up the sidewalk. “Grandma? What are you doing here?”

  Diana Heegan, or Decia if her trip through the past was to be believed, smiled patiently and cupped a hand around her cold cheek. “How was your death?”

  She asked the question so calmly, almost as if to say, ‘Hey there, good to see you. How was your trip?’

  “Excuse me? I’m, I’m dead?”

  The older woman’s smile widened a bit. “For the moment sweetie. It had to be done.”

  Lanni shifted from one foot to the other, snow crunching under her boot covered feet. “Why?”

  Diana, Decia, she corrected, took her hand and tucked it into the crook of her arm. Turning, she dragged her along the snow covered concrete. “To sever the link,” she explained. “Did you feel it break?”

  She almost replied until she realized the question wasn’t directed at her, but to someone on the path ahead. She looked, more than a little shocked when the crazy Old Crone stepped out from behind a tree. Her white beak parted in a grin and she strode toward them, her talons silent in the snow, as tall and proud as she’d been in the memory she’d viewed with Terra.

  Her armor gleamed in the sun, and the staff thunked against the ground, sending up a puff of white that perfectly matched her feathers. “I did. She may return now.”

  She gazed into the deep, black eyes, feeling the pull of magic against her very soul.

  It wanted her to go, again, but where?

  Past? Present? Future?

  She grabbed her chest, tightening the other hand around her Grams forearm. “What’s happening?”

  Decia patted her fingers, that same patient smile never changing. “Don’t worry child. You are safe. Dinsa has watched over you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  They came for him the next daylight. And Arin didn’t resist. They locked transport shackles around his wrists, secured them to his waist and more around his ankles. He stood stock still, ignoring the pitying looks from the troops he’d once commanded.

  It wasn’t their fault. He wouldn’t fight, not because he worried about the killing. The Gods above knew he’d done more than his fair share of that, but more because this wasn’t them. They had orders and like the good troops he’d trained, they were going to follow them.

  He didn’t even resist when they locked the stiff collar around his neck and strapped the accompanying muzzle over the lower half of his face.

  Instead, with head high, he shuffled out of the cell and followed them up the long ramp. In the main area of the Magistrate’s station, his mother, four of his brother’s and even Edeth waited.

  Wyn, the woman who’d taken him in as a kittling and raised him as her own, surged forward, knocking several of the escorts aside. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she buried her face in his chest. Like him, she was Neither-Born and one of the reasons they’d always had a special bond. “I will see you out of this,” she whispered.

  He patted her stomach with his fingers and leaned over enough to nuzzle his cheek against the top of her head. The metal on his face prevented speech so it was the best he could do. Standing tall again, he caught the eyes of his other siblings, nodding at each.

  Tears were in Edeth’s. Mito looked ready to kill, his large body vibrating with anger. The twins, Hunon and Hor both sighed and it was Hor that asked, “Do you need anything?”

  He shook his head, letting the gratitude for their concern show in his eyes. It wasn’t until he started to shuffle past Thun, the oldest of them who’d come to see him off, that he almost broke. There was pity in the blue-yellow pools and he stepped into the walkway, wrapping his still strong arms around his shoulders. “Just know, we do not believe a word of it,” he whispered then pulled back.

  Again, he let the gratitude show in his eyes and continued, urged along by the guards at either of his elbows.

  Outside, he blinked in the bright daylight, expecting to see half the Pride lining the streets of the plateau. But, there was no one. Just him and the escorts. He wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for himself or happy no one had come to throw stones.

  He didn’t have long to worry over it though. The guards firmly directed him to the waiting transport cage and with as much dignity as they could afford to give, allowed him to wriggle in.

  It was just large enough for him to sit upright and he did, resting his back against the thick bars. His family straggled out of the station as one of the Roc’s lifted off. It hovered over the cage, scooped it up in its long talons and that, was that.

  He wondered, as they plummeted over the edge of the only place he’d always thought of as home, if he’d ever see it again…

  ***

  The trip across the desert was just as uneventful as it had been when they arrived and he ignored the sights and sounds of Roasu as they flew over it. He’d never liked the place to begin with, so it was easy to do. The Roc Detachment headed into the bay and his cage was dropped onto the deck of a ship three-times the size of The Magu.
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br />   A tear formed in his eye at the memory of those rotations with his Lyra, and he wiped the moisture against the bars.

  He would not cry again, he’d shed enough of those since…

  He cut that off too, waiting for his escorts to pass the carry rods through the cage’s bars. Six of them lifted it to carry him below. Once it was stowed in a dark corner, one of them bent and undid the securing chain around his waist. Feeding it through the upper side, he locked his hands down as close to the roof as they could get.

  He tested his reach with a flex of his arms. It wasn’t much, but once the guard left, he might be able to maneuver around enough to get the muzzle off.

  It wasn’t to be though.

  With a slightly sadistic gleam in his eye, the man reached through the bars and with a snick at the back of his neck, locked the collar flush to metal behind it.

  “I never did like you Neither-Born,” he sneered as he rose and moved around to the far end. He picked up the chain between his ankles and pulled, pinning his feet flush with the door he’d crawled through. He squatted there, his lips parting in a grin that settled a knot of dread in his stomach. “The Master said your trip should not be comfortable, given what you did.” His eyes gleamed in the dusty light. “I am going to enjoy this,” he added, reaching for a bag sitting on the floor…

  ***

  Lanni lulled between sleeping and waking, kept there by the sound of waves crashing on rocks.

  Waves?

  Rocks?

  Where was she?

  The last thing she remembered was stumbling into Arin’s home looking for Terra and Draven to warn them about…

  About what…

  Arin! That’s what!

  She bolted up, his name on her lips then sagged back against something soft, her body weak as a newborn. Her limbs shook, blood slowly working its way through the once-dead flesh. Only it hadn’t been dead, as in dead-dead. A line from that movie, the one with Billy Crystal and what’s-her-face drifted through her mind and she managed to snort out a chuckle.