Smitten

by Vivienne Savage

  “I will not be left behind like a hand-wringing damsel,” she argued. The dragoness rose from her seat, the abrupt movement sending it backwards to the floor. “I won’t run and hide while you grant him peace.”

  A roar outside brought their planning to an abrupt halt. Saul swore and ran for the veranda doors leading out to the side yard, the others right behind him. Motionless, red-smeared white and gray shapes littered the expansive green pasture beyond the livestock fence. Saul leapt over it nimbly at a full sprint, and they followed. Ēostre moved past her son only to come to a horrified halt when she reached the closest corpse.

  “Oh no…”

  A slain goat from Leiv’s herd bloodied the ground, and a second lay several yards ahead with claw marks down its side.

  Max came up short and stared. “You said he doesn’t eat,” he said.

  Ēostre staggered forward to the next body, surveying the pasture of carnage left in Fafnir’s wake. There wasn’t a bite of flesh stripped from the delicate bones, and each goat had been left to rot in the morning sun.

  “He didn’t eat them,” Saul said dryly. “This was a massacre for fun.”

  “Thank the Ancients you sent the girls away with Mahasti and Leiv,” Watatsumi remarked as he followed the path of death. They moved with him, in awe of the brutality.

  “He’s never done anything like this before. Even when we raided villages, we never killed unless necessary,” Max muttered. “Never wasted our kills when we did.”

  “He’s not the same dragon,” Watatsumi reminded him gently. “There!” He pointed as Fafnir zipped across the pasture, in hot pursuit of three terrified zebras. The third one, lame and smaller than its two herdmates, fell behind.

  “Fafnir, stop!” Ēostre didn’t know what came over her, but she knew the pain Astrid would suffer if she returned to find her beloved animals dead, slain by her own bloodkin. Swift as an arrow, and without thinking of her own safety, she transformed to hurl herself forward, a spear of silver. She knocked her former mate off course seconds before his claws could close around the smallest creature. Fafnir turned, snarling at her and snapping his fanged jaws. Max was beside her in a moment, between them, their collision like thunder.

  “Enough, Father!” Saul roared. “Stop this now and let us help you. We know what brought you back. We can put things right again.”

  He didn’t answer. Fafnir and Max’s talons snarled together, like two stags locking antlers over a doe. They rolled across the pasture, growling and hissing streams of fire from their open mouths.

  Ēostre no longer recognized the dragon she had once loved. He resembled a rabid animal, pink-tinged froth flying from his mouth each time he twisted and flipped over Max, biting him and tearing with his claws. Red feathers flew in the air, and she could no longer tell which dragon had lost them, who had spilt blood. She stood frozen on the spot as Saul leapt into the fray, a fraction of their size and outclassed by their enormous strength.

  “Saul!” Chloe screamed from the edge of the pasture.

  “Stay back!” Saul growled.

  Ascalon in hand, Chloe remained at the edge of the pasture. Worry etched furrows into her brow and her hands twisted on the hilt. Despite his own great size, Saul resembled a cub darting in between two adult dragons. He couldn’t lay a scratch on either of them, but the same wasn’t true for Max and Fafnir — streams of blood ran down multiple wounds to Max’s chest, and then he was pinned beneath the other fire dragon’s bulky body.

  Saul clung to his father’s back in a desperate effort to pull him away. “Father, please!” he pleaded again.

  Feral noises bubbled from Fafnir’s throat in the place of words. His bloodshot eyes were glassy, vacant, and filled with mindless rage as he thrust his head toward Max’s throat and went in for the kill. As he did, Max kicked up with both hind legs, tearing his claws into Fafnir’s toughened gut. It barely dislodged him in time.

  “Help them!” Ēostre screamed at Watatsumi. “Don’t stand beside me, help them!”

  “I am,” he replied tersely, voice raising higher than his normal placid volume. “By remaining here to tell you the rest of my plan. Do you see them, Ēostre? Fafnir no longer feels pain as we do, if he feels it at all. There’s only one way to help them. You must seek out your bond with Fafnir and find the phylactery,” Watatsumi said.

  “It’s gone,” she cried, curling her claws into the thick grass in despair.

  “No, it is not. A portion of your soul became his when you bonded. Try and find that connection now, however tenuous it may be. Focus! Use what you now know to find the magic animating this body.”

  “And trace it back to the phylactery,” she whispered.

  “Yes, and to whoever holds it.”

  It was difficult to focus when her son and husband were in a fight for their lives. Fafnir’s unrestrained tactics could kill either of them at any moment. In a blink, she’d be without her son or her mate.

  No!

  Ēostre redoubled her efforts. She stretched beyond the comfortable boundaries of her magic until an infinitesimal force flit at the edges of her perception. “I feel it,” she said in a quiet voice. “Far away from here.”

  “Can you pinpoint it?”

  “Yes, I can take us there directly.”

  It became a tiny melody only she could hear. A weak tugging on her soul acted as a beacon, and Ēostre allowed it to guide her, her consciousness soaring across vast, open ocean and serene waters until she opened a portal. Green hills and thick forest waited on the other side as the foreground to smoky-topped mountains in the great distance.

  The soul-deep tug drew her onward into a craggy gully damp from a recent rain. She and Watatsumi were halfway down the narrow track when a third dragon came out to meet them.

  “You’re trespassing,” the dragoness hissed. Beneath the cloudy sky her feathers were a dull brick red. Her hide, the color of burnt sienna, had the dry texture of scales — a byproduct of spending too much time in the fire.

  Brigid had been prettier, and it was no surprise, considering who had fathered her. As a dragon, Mahuika was as plain on the outside as her soul was ugly within.

  “Mahuika. I should have known.” In hindsight, the way Fafnir had called Brigid “his” made a sick sort of sense.

  “What do you want?” She snapped her head toward Watatsumi. “What business do you have here in my home?”

  “You have something that belongs to me.” Ēostre gave her no warning. She rushed the slender red dragoness and lunged to the right, dipping her body low to the ground to protect her belly.

  In the case of fighting another dragon, the only defense was a good offense. Ending a fight sooner than later saved lives. Ēostre stole first blood when she sank her jaws into her opponent’s flank and ripped out a mouthful in passing, too swift for Mahuika to do anything more than swat her tail.

  “I’ll find the jewel!” Watatsumi shouted as he scurried past. “Keep her here!” His sinuous shape slithered into the mountainside as Mahuika whirled and exhaled a jet of flame. It singed his side, and the water dragon’s hide blistered beneath the force. Then he was gone and Mahuika scrambled to catch him.

  “You have no business in my home!” Mahuika shrieked. She exhaled another jet of flame down the tunnel in a controlled stream that raced along the curves and disappeared from sight. The water dragon’s pained roar echoed from the cavern.

  “Mahuika, no!”

  The skies split open and a lightning bolt fell from the heavens, the precursor of the assault soon to come. Seconds later, the true light show began. One lightning strike after the next fell with the flash storm, and black clouds rolled in from the horizon.

  Mahuika countered with a firestorm. The lightning charred and split her hide but it didn’t deter her from belching a twisting ball of white-blue flame at her opponent. A quick dodge brought Ēostre out of harm’s way but the heat was searing enough to raise blisters on her shoulder and neck.

  Back and forth they went, Mahui
ka’s flames against Ēostre’s thunderstorms and pelting rain.

  “I’ll rip those bastards from your cooling corpse,” Mahuika hissed. “It should have been me. I should have been the one ruling beside him. Me!”

  “You will never hurt my babies, Mahuika. Belenos turned you down because of your spiteful nature. Your selfishness. What you did to Fafnir only confirms the ugliness in your heart.”

  The red dragoness shrieked in rage and took to the air. Her fury made her reckless and savage. Careless. Ēostre dodged her first attack and leapt up into the skies. They circled one another in an aggressive aerial display, slashing with their claws and biting at each other.

  “I will have everything that is yours,” Mahuika screamed. “It’s mine! It should all be mine!”

  Claws sharp as obsidian raked down Ēostre’s flank, bloodying her silver plumage. She cried out and summoned the wind to pound the enraged dragon back to the ground. Mahuika tried to resist but the gale force winds were too much. She hit the ground hard and Ēostre followed, landing atop her.

  Seizing the volcanic dragoness by the throat, Ēostre snapped her jaws shut with all of her might. She held on, balancing with her wings, tumbling with Mahuika to the hard earth and refusing to relinquish her hold. For the sake of everyone counting on them at Drakenstone Manor, she couldn’t let go.

  Mahuika’s desperation grew as her air supply depleted. Ēostre tasted blood, smelled her fear, and buried her claws deeper. She was like a cowboy on a rodeo stallion, pleading to the Ancestors to hold her grip for one more second. Ēostre held for more than that — refusing to let go even after Mahuika’s tail gave one last shuddering thump against the ground before everything stilled.

  Watatsumi found them in the same position five minutes later when he emerged from the cavern scorched and limping, his beautiful blue skin bubbled from mid spine to left flank. He nudged her with his nose, still panting with exertion from his own trials inside the deceased fire wyrm’s lair.

  “Ēostre. She’s dead. You can release her now.”

  ***

  A wild animal. Max was reminded of a wild animal. There was no recognition in Fafnir’s yellow eyes, only a terrifying sort of hatred that burned hotter than any fire. He and Saul panted as they distanced themselves from the great beast, red rivulets streaming down their ribs.

  He growled and circled around him again, resembling gunslingers in the old west meeting for a showdown. With Saul and Max on one side, Fafnir on the other, it became easy to see the great wyrm wasn’t even remotely wearied from the battle. His body was dead, and Max had to wonder if Fafnir had known all along, if he’d hidden in the hoard to conceal it.

  If only they’d looked closer.

  “Fafnir, some part of you must still be there. Speak with us.”

  A flash of intelligence returned to Fafnir’s eyes, accompanied by a dry chuckle. “Don’t waste your words. When I finish ripping you both to shreds, I’ll turn my ire to the rest of this world. No one will escape my vengeance, and all will suffer for what was taken from me.”

  “Father, you can’t blame the humans for this.”

  “What do I care for humans? They are little more than rodents scurrying through their own filth, I will clean this world of them and usher in a new dawn of power for the dragon race.” Fafnir sneered, revealing every tooth.

  “Fafnir… you once loved them as we do. You made deals with them. You helped them achieve glory,” Max said. “Do you remember Sigurd and what you did for him?”

  “Those days are gone! I am ashamed of my own people, who let the humans rule them and hide behind the shifters like scared little lambs. We are dragons! They should be cowering beneath us!” He charged forward at Max only to turn at the last moment and crash into Saul instead. The younger dragon braced as best he could for the impact but his father was larger and stronger. Saul toppled to the ground.

  It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Max twisted to face Fafnir while Chloe screamed and raced for her husband. Saul struggled to get to his feet as he fended off Fafnir’s slashing attacks.

  Then, in an instant, the crazed animosity in Fafnir’s face vanished, replaced by horrified agitation. The large dragon leapt backward away from his son, and stared at his own bloodied claws.

  “What have I done?”

  “Fafnir…?” Max edged closer, putting himself between his old friend and his new family.

  Fafnir’s eyes darted from his blood-smeared talons to Max’s face, his features brimming over with anguish. “Belenos, while I am still myself — while I can speak these words to you — put me back to rest. Kill me.”

  Max raised his claws, but like Saul, he couldn’t bring himself to use them. When it came to the moment of truth, he’d failed. “I can’t. Fafnir, I can’t,” he whispered.

  “You must.”

  “You’re my friend!” Max cried in anguish. He blinked his stinging eyes rapidly.

  “Then I’ll do it! One of us has to put him to rest, Max!” Chloe called. “He’s suffered enough!”

  “She is right,” Fafnir rumbled. “What little remains of the dragon Fafnir will soon be gone. What stands before you is a twisted shadow of the creature you both loved. Mahuika no longer holds the stone binding my spirit, but soon she will possess it again with her vile influence. You must release me.” His eyes darted to Saul, filled with sorrow. “Your cub is beautiful, my son. You put me to shame.”

  “Father… I thought… we could do this, but we can’t. Forgive us.”

  “I can’t kill you, my friend,” Max agreed mournfully.

  “No one will have to do it,” Watatsumi announced from their rear.

  They turned to see Ēostre and Watatsumi emerging from an open portal, singed, limping, and bloodied. Watatsumi grimaced with every step, but he held his head high, a gleaming, vibrant ruby in his clenched claw. The light shone from it in slow and rhythmic, radiant pulses. Beside the water dragon, Ēostre’s determined stride occasionally hitched. Max hurried to her.

  “You’re hurt.”

  “No more than you are,” she assured him.

  “Chloe, we will need your sword,” Watatsumi called over. “Mahuika no longer draws breath, but time is short. If you have goodbyes, I would say them now.”

  Fafnir hung back and refused to move. “No. No goodbyes. Do it now, I beg you.”

  A deep sadness rose in Max’s heart. “I wish there were another way, my friend.”

  “My time is long past. I have brought you nothing but pain and sorrow, and for that I can never apologize.”

  Ēostre touched her cheek against her former mate’s face. “Part of me will always love you, Fafnir.”

  “But our bond has ended and death has separated us.” He turned his eyes to Maximilian, cool, dead eyes that held a minute bit of warmth, a flicker of what belonged. “Thank you for keeping your oath to me. Protect her. Always.”

  “Always,” Max agreed, choking on the word. “Always, my friend.”

  Fafnir stepped back from them, folded his molting wings against his body, and proudly raised his chin. “I am ready, brave girl.”

  Chloe drove the tip of Ascalon into the gem. It shattered, a hundred fragments skittering in every direction into the grass amidst particles of ruby dust. At the same time, the light dimmed from Fafnir’s eyes and his body slumped to the earth, motionless, gray, and hardening into stone.

  “Father?” Saul whispered.

  A warm breeze stirred through the pasture, several multicolored butterflies dancing on the swirling eddies. The delicate creatures took perch on Fafnir’s body for the span of a heartbeat until he crumbled away beneath their feather-light touch.

  Only a pile of ashes remained.

  Epilogue

  They left the pasture defeated, numbed, and heartbroken.

  “What about his ashes?” Chloe had gently asked.

  Ēostre couldn’t answer. Max had taken over a week away from Washington to be at her side, and together they got through it with days of mutua
l tears and hugs. At first, she blamed herself for failing to observe something was amiss when she discovered his body, back when Fafnir had first died. Or maybe if they had acted sooner when he first came back, if they had suspected that someone else was controlling him, maybe they could have saved him from unnecessary suffering. Eventually, her regrets culminated to a deeper hatred for Mahuika, and she wished she could have killed the dragoness again.

  Although Mahuika was certainly mixed up in the current events, she wasn’t at fault for such a treacherous act. It was Agnes. Agnes, who had already died. Agnes who, as far as Ēostre was concerned, would always be her enemy.

  But how does one punish a witch who follows the eternal cycle of rebirth? Watatsumi and the rest of the Council had promised to locate the witch in her next adult form, swearing to make her pay, but confining her for a mere lifetime wouldn’t satisfy Ēostre. In fact, she nearly allowed her bitterness to consume her, until one night, she found Max alone in his private office and remembered he had been grieving, too. He needed her as much as she needed him. Their family needed them.

  A month was a trifling time for a dragon to mourn, but she’d reached the end of the tears she was willing to shed for Fafnir. The true Fafnir, the real dragon with an uncorrupted soul, wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer for another century. Days after she emerged from her depression, Chloe surprised them with a lovely memorial. She’d secretly called Mahasti to return and gather the ashes, and the djinn had placed an immense but elegant urn in the hoard. The pair of them had waited until the right moment to present it.

  Crafted from semi-opaque blown glass swirled through with reds and golds, the vase’s glossy surface shone from within as though it held a flame in its heart. An engraved obsidian plaque displayed an ancient Norse poem Saul had always said his father favored. It wasn’t his volcano, but Fafnir had loved his hoard as much, if not more than Rainier.

  As the months passed, Ēostre watched her son’s wife swell with child, and when Chloe birthed their little boy, she joined them to welcome him into the world and assist with the expected complications. Astrid was overjoyed to have a baby brother and promised to be the best big sister any dragon could ever have.