by Tia Wylder
“Hey, what are you doing with my wife?” A voice growled.
Ragnar spun around in his chair as a pair of beefy hands grabbed his shoulders. Before he could stand he was ripped out of his seating and thrown onto the ground. He felt the eyes of the room staring at him. More than that, he could feel the eyes of Apollo from across the room.
He stood to his feet and looked upon the muscular form of Isabel’s husband.
“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me why you were sitting with my wife!” He shouted.
“I meant no offense sir. She was left unattended and I provided her with escort to the dinner.”
“He’s telling the truth Harmon, I was lost and I needed helping finding the right building,” Isabel said.
The general clenched his fists, apparently not satisfied with the answer. Ragnar didn’t have time for this display of strength. He needed to defuse the situation.
“My business is finished here, have a lovely evening,” Ragnar said, turning away from the general.
“How dare you turn your back on me! Do you know who I am?”
Ragnar could no longer bite his tongue.
“I know you’re the kind of person to leave your wife stranded and desperate for attention. Perhaps you should spend more time with her and less time inflating your own ego?”
Humiliation was a sound tactic, but Ragnar soon realized his comment only made the situation worse. The general roared and pulled a gun out of his jacket. It was a small and concealed weapon, but the sight of it sent the crowded hall into a frenzy.
“Insolent fool, those words will be you last!” He shouted.
“Harmon, you’re embarrassing yourself!” Isabel shouted.
Ragnar was out of options. He had failed to defuse the situation, and the eyes of Apollo were on him. Ragnar spotted the Dragonslayer as he approached from the right. Apollo took the gun out of the general’s hands with incredible speed. His hand moved so quickly that the image of it blurred through the air.
The general’s jaw dropped as his eyes wandered to Apollo. A swift fist collided with the general’s face and he fell to the ground unconscious. A trio of guards arrived and picked up the body. Isabel chased after them commanding that they put him down.
“You’re not one of mine. Who are you?” He asked.
“I was stationed at Gamma, I left my post to escort the general’s wife,” Ragnar said.
The words seemed to float right past the Dragonslayer.
“Those eyes, I know them, and I know what you are,” Apollo said.
“Then it seems we are at a standstill,” Ragnar replied.
Apollo leaned forward and whispered into Ragnar’s ear.
“Come with me now, Dragon, and I will make your death swift. Fight me here, and I will make you watch as I slay everyone you love.”
Ragnar smiled. “Oh Apollo, you’ve missed one very important detail.”
“Have I? Enlighten me then.”
“You and your kind have already taken everything from me. I have nothing left to lose!”
Ragnar stepped back and unleashed his inner dragon. A blast of icy wind swept across the hall as his human form quickly gave way to the body and wings of an ancient ice dragon. Ragnar’s wings spread to either side of the hall and his head scraped the ceiling of the building.
Apollo turned and ran as Ragnar roared and painted a blast of ice from his mouth. Everything the rushing wind touched instantly froze. Humans stood frozen in their final fearful poses with hands raised and mouths agape. Icicles dangled from their outstretched arms and from the edges of the tables.
Ragnar charged forward, shattering everything that had been frozen by his icy breath. There was no length he wouldn’t take to get the revenge he sought. As he took another deep breath and unleashed a fury of frozen wind across the path in front him, Ragnar’s thoughts wandered back to the night he lost everything.
He watched the humans beneath him cower in fear and run for shelter. Their terrified faces mirrored the faces of his wife and son as the Dragonslayers drove their blades through them. Ragnar held them both in his arms as he watched the life drain out of their eyes. The thought ignited the blizzard within his soul. He charged forward again, shattering the frozen personas of the poor souls who dared to stand in his way.
Apollo foolishly ran out of the building. No doubt he had seen his fair share of dragons, but nothing matched the fury of a Nordic ice dragon. There was a reason the Dragonslayers rarely came into the Scandinavian Mountains. Even with their incredible strength and near immortal lifespan, the biting cold and the icy breath of Ragnar’s people made quick work of them.
Ragnar charged forward and shattered the wall of the building. Stone and steel reinforcements rained down around him as he stood under the moon high in the sky. His eyes scanned the ground beneath him as Dragonslayers assembled. He spotted Apollo emerge from behind a building in the distance. He held a golden bow that stood half as tall as he did. He reached into a quiver and pulled out an equally golden arrow. Ragnar watched him pull back the projectile as he took in another deep breath of air and mixed with the winter storms in his body.
He let loose another blast across the Dragonslayers before him. Some of them managed to raise shields in time, but many of them were not prepared for ice. Their skin turned blue and dripped with icicles frozen in time. Apollo’s arrow shot through the blizzard and slammed into the right side of Ragnar’s upper right foot. The impact was met with a crackle of pain that shot up through Ragnar’s body. It had somehow passed through his scales and pierced his flesh. Ragnar felt heat coming from the tip of the arrow that threatened to melt his icy resolve.
He charged forward and tucked his black wings behind him. The Dragonslayers shattered beneath him. Apollo was readying another arrow, but Ragnar would be on him before he could take aim.
“Cadmus, come to my aid!” Apollo shouted.
Ragnar spotted another Dragonslayer to his left. He was a thick built man with shoulder length jet black hair and an armored helmet atop his head. He swung a sling above his head that held a fiery projectile. He let it fly before Ragnar could dodge. The projectile looked to be a ceramic pot filled with a flaming liquid. It smashed into Ragnar’s side and spread the burning oil across his scales.
“Jason, now!” Cadmus shouted.
Yet another Dragonslayer emerged from the right. He was bare chested with a golden fleece hanging down his back. He held a golden spear in his right hand. Ragnar turned and let loose a blast of ice. Jason swung the fleece around and ducked beneath it. Ragnar looked on in terror as the ice passed over the fleece and left Jason unharmed. He retaliated and threw his spear into Ragnar’s side.
Ragnar had to flee before they finished him off. The pain that coursed through his body was unbearable. He unfurled his wings and looked to the sky.
“Go dragon, try to warn your brethren, but you will not reach them in time! Our brothers Perseus and Heracles are already on their way to your mountaintop sanctuary. Your time will come soon dragon, of that you can be certain!” Apollo shouted.
Ragnar drove his wings down and flew up into the sky. The fires of Cadmus’ oil went out as the cold wind swept over him. The spear of Jason departed and the arrow of Apollo fell away. Ragnar was badly wounded, but if what they said was true, and two of these fierce leaders were going to kill his people, he had to warn them. Ragnar turned and shot off into the horizon with a powerful burst of speed.
He had to make it in time, there was no other choice.
Chapter Two
Cecilia Roven was born into riches and duty. Her father, Lucius Roven, was a powerful man among the dragon shifters of Napa Valley, California. When she was growing up, he would tell her terrifying stories of how the now beautiful vineyards used to burn for as far as the eye could see. The dragon would raze any and all villages who dared to build upon the fertile soil that the valley held.
Her mother would balance these stories of violence with tales of how the valley would one day
grow lush and beautiful with food for all. Cecilia used to believe her mother, but then she grew up. Her mother died young like so many other humans. Without the blood of a dragon in her veins, disease and decay took hold. Cancer they called it. A beast more powerful than any dragon and one that not even her father could slay.
They watched her wither away. Her eyes, so full of life, slowly drained until they were but hollow spheres that sunk deep into her skull. Her skin which was once lush and filled with warmth turned the color of ash and pulled taut on her face as if to somehow cling to what little life she had left.
Cecilia’s faith in the future, in her tribe, in dragon shifters, all of it departed with her mother’s soul. She was cold and bitter after that, much like her father. She didn’t understand why she had to stay. She wasn’t born with shifter genes. She couldn’t transform into a dragon, so what place did she have amongst those who could? Her father told her she was needed, that only she could pass on the dragon shifter genes that laid dormant in her.
People like Cecilia were rare. Children of shifters often became shifters themselves; however, a shifter could not mate with another and bear offspring. Instead, a shifter would need to mate with a human so that the child could receive the dominant shifter genes. That is why shifters rarely, if ever, mated with their own kind.
Her father already had one picked out for Cecilia. A man named Sebastian Tariq. He was one of the most revered warriors among the tribe. He had the highest Dragonslayer kill count, or so he said. No one had seen Dragonslayers in Napa Valley for over a hundred years. The shifters had abandoned their heritage and lived soft lives in massive mansions.
Cecilia sat in the backseat of a stretch limousine wearing a red dress with black lace. It was tight around her breasts and waist to accent the curvature of her body. Her father insisted she look her best for Sebastian. She was almost twenty-three years old and he still treated her like a child.
Lucius Roven sat beside her in moving vehicle. He was a thick built African-American man with a presence about him that intimidated most people. His bloodline was among the first to settle in this part of the world, so he commanded a massive amount of respect from those around him.
“When do you expect to consummate the relationship?” Lucius asked in a deep and gruff voice.
Cecilia gasped sharply. “Consummate? Father I barely know him! Don’t you expect us to be married first?”
Lucius dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “Marriage is a human institution. We have more important matters to attend to. The bloodline must continue. The threat of the Dragonslayers is ever-present.”
Cecilia chuckled. “Father, in all my life I have never once seen these Dragonslayers you speak of. How do you even know they still exist?”
“You test my patience, daughter. The future of our bloodline, of dragon shifters as a species, is always at risk. Your mother may have taught you to be soft, but I will not watch my bloodline wither and die!”
Cecilia slammed her fist down on the side of the door beside her.
“Don’t you talk about her! You don’t get to talk about her!” She shouted.
“Cecilia, I miss her as much as you do, but you cannot let that pain harm your future and your purpose.”
Cecilia quickly wiped the infant tears from her eyes. She couldn’t show weakness in front of him.
“You don’t know that pain I feel, and you never will. I have more purpose than to simply give birth to our bloodline’s heir. Do you even care about my aspirations beyond this place?” Cecilia asked.
Lucius reached forward and picked up his crystal glass. Caramel colored scotch swirled around in the bottom half as he tipped it forward and took a long drink.
“There is nothing beyond the valley, Cecilia. Out there is the human world, a world that we have no place in.”
This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation. Cecilia heard stories from her mother about the rest of the world. About all the things that could be seen and done. Her mother had promised to show her those things. She broke that promise and left Cecilia alone in the cramped and crushing world of dragon shifters like her father.
The limousine slowed and came to a stop. Lucius adjusted his suit and tie as the driver opened the door.
“Come, Cecilia, we’ll finish this discussion later,” he said.
They both exited the vehicle. The entire area was bustling with people dressed in luxurious attire. Limousines arrived by the dozens and dropped off new guests. Cecilia reluctantly took her coat from the driver and draped it over her shoulders.
She didn’t recognize anyone around her, not that she expected to, she tried her best not to associate herself with her father’s friends. She looked to her right at the entryway. An ornate iron archway spread up into the sky. It was decorated with soft white lights that wound through the intricate design like glowing snakes. Beyond the archway was a massive clearing where white canopies were set up over sets of tables and chairs. In the center, under the crisp night sky, was a dance floor that had been laid over the lush grass on the ground. At the back of the clearing was a stage with a podium. At the back of the stage a small quartet of violinists and a cello player produced constant classical background noise. Lighting came from a mixture of hanging lights, standing torches, and the natural light that came from the star-filled sky above.
The people arriving talked amongst themselves as they made their way through the illuminated archway and into the clearing. Cecilia stayed close to her father, if only to avoid awkward conversation with the other people present at the event. They couldn’t even get into the event without someone recognizing her father.
“Lucius, how long has it been?”
Cecilia stopped and turned, along with her father, as a plump and elderly man approached in a grey shirt and crimson tie.
“Grayson! My, it has been a while, hasn’t it? Fifteen years I believe?” Lucius asked.
“I thought it was twenty, but at my age I wouldn’t be surprised if my memory is going,” Grayson said.
“Nonsense! You’re only, what, four hundred years old?”
Grayson chuckled. “375, but I feel like I’m 450. I’ve been told your daughter’s suitor has been chosen?”
Cecilia hated how they spoke about her as if she wasn’t there. She bit her tongue not to interject.
“You are correct old friend. I have chosen Sebastian Tariq,” Lucius said.
“Sebastian! Fine choice indeed! He will give your bloodline a strong heir to protect our heritage.”
Cecilia was becoming nauseous listening to them. She silently snuck away as they continued revealing in each other’s presence. She made her way into the clearing and spotted a waitress walking by with a plate of cocktails. Cecilia swept one off the surface. It was a martini of sorts, with an olive floating on the top speared by a toothpick.
She tilted the glass back and drank the bitter liquid down. It burned like fire down her throat until it landed in her stomach. As she fished out the olive, someone approached her.
“A woman as beautiful as you must be Cecilia Roven,” he said.
Cecilia chewed silently on the olive and regarded the man standing before her. He was a tall African American man, with a thick jaw, and a chiseled build. He reached out with a muscular hand.
“I am Sebastian Tariq. I’m sure you’ve heard about me from your father.”
Cecilia hesitated before shaking his hand. She didn’t want to be outright rude and cause a scene.
“Nice to meet you, Sebastian. I don’t suppose you could grab me another drink?” She asked.
He bowed slightly. “Of course my dear.”
He turned and left. Cecilia didn’t like him. He was too full of himself. His face was almost constantly plastered with a confident grin that did nothing but further his arrogant persona. Cecilia knew his type. To him she was nothing more than a trophy in a series of trophies that everyone worshipped him for. He had power and respect, and it all went to his head in the worst
way possible.
Cecilia’s father arrived. He already had a cocktail in his hand as well. He gestured to Sebastian as he walked over to a table littered with empty drinks.
“He’s quite the specimen, isn’t he?” Lucius asked.
“He seems nice.”
Her father grunted. “He’s more than nice, Cecilia. Any woman here would kill for him. You could show more respect, or at least some enthusiasm.”
“Yeah? Well you’re not the one that has to sleep with him, father.”
Lucius finished his drink with a forceful gulp.
“Just do your job, Cecilia. I am growing weary of your insolence.”
Cecilia was fuming with anger. Sebastian returned with more drinks. He handed Cecilia a cocktail in a cylindrical cup with a slice of orange on the top. She didn’t know what it was called, and she didn’t care. She went to work drinking down the fruity liquid within.
“Something bothering you?” Sebastian asked.
“Yeah, everything. Thanks for asking,” I said.
Sebastian didn’t seem in the mood to deal with her, and Cecilia was just fine with that.
“Well, I’ll catch up with you later then. I have other matters to attend to,” he said.
Cecilia’s stomach wrenched. He sounds like my father.
She made her way to the drink table for another one, when she heard the sound of two people arguing nearby. Cecilia couldn’t resist a little trouble in paradise, so she made her way towards the sound. At the edge of the clearing, beyond the comfort of the artificial lights, she saw the silhouettes of two men in the distance. The voice of her father carried across the thin night air with ease. The other voice was more gruff and harder to hear.
“Tonight, of all nights, you decide to come here?” Lucius asked.
The other voice replied. Cecilia couldn’t make out the words, but she knew he was desperate.
“No absolutely not. You could have brought them here! Did that thought even cross your mind?”
The gruff voice urgently pleaded with Lucius.