Dragon Splendor (Immortal Dragons Book 3)

by Ophelia Bell

  She’d had big dreams, then—of securing a botany research fellowship in California, finishing her PhD, and having her father move around the world to live with her in a place where better medicine would be easily accessible. His health hadn’t been good since she’d left, and she blamed herself for the downturn.

  Now she wasn’t so sure. After the bomb he’d dropped on his deathbed last June, she believed he’d died of a broken heart.

  “You are not of this world, my Vrishti. Your mother is a creature from another plane. She is Sathmika, and when I am gone, you must go to her, because I cannot now that the way is closed to me. Tell her that I will meet her where Gaia’s pools are most at peace, and we will plant ourselves beneath the Stonetree for all time.”

  Then he’d handed her a sheaf of mismatched papers, covered in his nearly illegible handwriting. She had fallen asleep reading the journals and trying to make sense of the crazy writings, and had woken up to find him gone. His journals had talked of the sacred circle in the forest high above the shrine to Sathmika—the rain goddess, who if his stories were to be believed, was in fact her biological mother.

  Following the directions he’d written down, she’d hiked up the path into the mountain and found his body in the center of the stone circle. She’d thought him dead; he was lying so still there, fists filled with dirt and a pile of it on top of his chest as though he’d attempted to bury himself.

  He called out to her to come no closer as he began chanting into the darkness.

  “Stay away from the portal!” he called. When the air had crackled around her, she rushed forward, only to run into an invisible barrier that knocked her onto her ass.

  Dazed, she had struggled to stand, but whatever energy field had hit her had sapped her strength. She could only watch as a brilliant elliptical light appeared over her father’s body. It opened up like a tear in reality, a window to another world that looked like a winter wonderland, all white and icy, starkly beautiful in a way she had only seen in her dreams.

  Her father’s body was lying at the bottom point, the portal seeming to draw energy from him as it pulsed like a beating heart. His chest arched up and she let out an agonized cry. With every last ounce of strength she possessed, she flung herself toward him, but just as she reached him the portal disappeared, blinking out of existence as though it were never there.

  All she’d been left with was her father’s limp body, already growing cold to the touch, and his final words echoing in her mind: “Tell your mother I love her when you get home.”

  That had been at Midsummer, and if the wild tales in his journals were true, it had been one of the four times of year when access to this mysterious world of her origin was possible.

  Except it wasn’t possible to a human man like her father, and it was only conditionally possible to her if she was indeed one of these ursa creatures he insisted she was.

  She had made the decision to find this mysterious Windchaser who was supposed to be her key to get into that place beyond the portal. The Sanctuary, it was called, and wherever it was, there were others inside like her. Other ursa. And one of those people was her mother.

  Now she was at the temple again, the shrine to Sathmika, her second trip since her father’s death, and on the eve of the winter Solstice this trip was proving to be just as fruitless as the last two. No Windchaser had appeared, and what did she expect? Westerners didn’t visit her tiny village.

  There were three other portals to the Sanctuary, and two of them were far more accessible than this one. She would suck it up for one more night and leave tomorrow for the U.S. Come Spring, she’d be in Yuma, Arizona, the sunniest place on Earth.

  Later that night, Vrishti woke with a start, disoriented and irritated after finally managing to doze off in spite of her frustration over another season spent without finding a way into the Sanctuary. At first she lay in the dark, trying to get her bearings and figure out what it was that had awakened her. The sounds of the temple had always been muffled by the constant tempo of the rainfall, and the steady chanting of the acolytes that occurred every six hours like clockwork and lasted for fifteen minutes.

  She heard the rain pattering against the roof, and the sound of the familiar chanting meant it must be just after midnight on the last day before the Solstice. But she didn’t hear what had awoken her until the chanting ceased a few moments later.

  The energy of the place had shifted drastically. Normally sedate and constant, with its own set rhythms, the temple’s energy ebbed and flowed with the daily activities. She could always tell what time it was by the sounds.

  It did not sound like midnight out there now.

  She sat up in her bed and tossed the covers off, swiftly throwing a robe over her scant nightgown.

  Halfway down the hallway on bare feet, she wished she’d put on slippers to combat the chilly tiles, but was drawn to the sounds of voices coming from the central meeting room. The sounds of several deep male voices she’d never heard made her hesitate. If they were Windchaser ursa, she couldn’t meet them in her pajamas. Her pulse raced. Could it really be?

  Taking a chance, she ran back to her room, lit her little battery-powered lamp, and unceremoniously dumped out the pack she’d lived out of for the last week.

  In moments she had donned her only clean sari and gathered her thick, black hair into a long braid. Almost as an afterthought, she stood in front of the mirror and affixed the bindi to her forehead. If she were indeed the daughter of an ursa clan leader, she should look the part when meeting her kindred.

  It didn’t occur to her until she was out the door again that ursa may have completely different customs than an Indian farm girl where their dress was concerned.

  Halfway down the hall for the second time, she cursed, realizing that yet again she’d gone barefoot, but this time it was too late to stop. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  She rounded the circular hallway of the modest mountaintop temple, only half-aware that the rain had started again and a chilly draft was coming in through the poorly sealed windows. The voices that reached her ears were polished and regal-sounding—at least one female was there, along with a couple males, conversing with the high priestess.

  A heavy beaded curtain hung in the doorway between the hallway and the meeting room. Vrishti paused in front of it, taking a deep breath and silently rehearsing her speech to the Windchasers who she hoped would be on the other side.

  She burst through, the words out of her mouth before she could rein in her excitement.

  “Please take me with you!”

  A dozen sets of eyes turned to stare at her. The five strangers looked bemused, while the six acolytes and the priestess who had gathered all looked horrified.

  Vrishti’s mouth fell open and her face heated to molten levels. “I… I…” she stuttered as she stared at them all like an idiot, realizing with a sinking feeling that there was no way in hell these people could be like her, though she had no idea how she knew. They all looked so… otherworldly. Nothing like how she pictured another ursa.

  The two men were tall and broad-shouldered, one with brilliant red hair falling in perfectly coiffed waves to his shoulders, a clean-shaved face that looked as smooth as marble, and eyes as red as blood and glowing with inner fire. The other tall man had hair as pale as corn silk and eyes an eerie white to match. When their gazes met, the white-haired one visibly flinched, as though offended by her appearance.

  The two women were equally beautiful, in spite of being as drenched and soggy-looking as the men. They all looked out of their element, except for the fifth figure.

  “Do you even know where we’re going?” the fifth figure asked, and Vrishti finally saw him when the priestess stepped aside. He could have been the white-haired man’s brother, if their coloring were the only thing she considered, but something in his bearing put her immediately at ease. He was different.

  Every bit as big as the other two men, this one was more relaxed, his pale hair a tangle of we
t curls that hung haphazardly around his face, while the others all seemed too pristinely put together. He had strange eyes that reminded her of fresh fruit just beginning to ripen, and his coloring had the same odd blush of newness to it, like he’d only recently been exposed to the sun.

  “Are you a Windchaser?” she blurted finally, somehow certain he must be the ursa she’d been waiting for. Unlike the others, he had a full beard of thick white hair, and the chest that was half exposed through his loose tunic was similarly covered in luxuriant white fur.

  He blinked at her and then smiled, gave the priestess a polite nod, and then walked over.

  “My name is Nicholas Stonetree. Who are you?”

  “Vrishti Rainsong,” she said, an uncontrollable smile spreading across her face so suddenly her cheeks hurt. “You’re an ursa! Holy shit, you’re really here!” She bounced on the balls of her feet, unable to contain her excitement before launching herself at him and exclaiming several more times amid his surprised laughter as he tolerated her impromptu embrace.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been led to believe for the last two hundred years,” he said, laughter still tinging his voice as he pushed her back to arm’s length.

  Vrishti stared openly at him, awestruck that he’d come and for the first time finally feeling like she got the difference between her kind and humans. This man was very different, yet she felt an undeniable kinship with him that she’d never felt with another human being besides her own father, and even then, she’d somehow had this feeling that her father never really understood her.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re really here. What the fuck took you so long?”

  He let out a soft bark of laughter and glanced back over his shoulder. “Well, that’s a long story. I suppose the important thing is that we are here. Do you mind telling me exactly why you think we should take you with us? I’m not even sure if I can, to be honest. It’s going to be tricky enough getting four dragons through the portal.”

  Behind him, the others shared irritated glances. The red-haired male cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nick, if she’s not going to be part of our refueling session, can we get on with it without you two?”

  Nicholas grimaced and closed his eyes. “Right,” he murmured. “Don’t want to keep them waiting. Is there a place we can talk? I mean, unless you do want in on it.”

  Vrishti’s skin prickled at the statement, and she realized the other white-haired one was staring openly at her, his gaze somehow lit from within. Her nipples pricked and warmth pooled between her thighs unexpectedly. She swallowed and tore her eyes away from him.

  “Um, in on what, exactly?” she asked, even though she was almost dead certain she probably didn’t want to know.

  She glanced around the room, for the first time aware of the handful of acolytes that were present. They were the youngest, fittest ones, three of the women and three of the men all around her age, and the priestess was also one of the younger ones who lived at the temple.

  They all wore their ceremonial dress, but versions of it she’d never seen. The normally opaque silk saris and sarongs were instead sheer, delicate fabric shot through with gold and silver embroidery. The myriad tattoos of each acolyte were visible, and though she’d only just been able to grasp the details from her father’s journals, the implications of those tattoos finally hit her.

  This temple was meant to serve all the travelers who passed through, and the human residents were part of a secret sect that worshiped the elements. The aspects of those elements were creatures beyond imagining, creatures that any outside observer would simply view as mythical mumbo jumbo, but with her newfound understanding of the world, she knew really existed.

  All the creatures these people worshiped really existed. Her own existence was a testament to that. Four of the five newcomers were dragons, and if her idle admiration of the artwork in the temple had told her anything, it was that dragons had very particular needs. She still remembered the open curiosity with which she’d interrogated the acolytes when she’d first come and seen the erotic depictions of each of the creatures that decorated the corridors with wall hangings, frescoes, and sculptures of gold and polished stone.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “They need to … um …” She bit her lip, self-conscious of the fresh wash of heat that flooded her entire body this time. “I think I’ll pass this time.”

  She slowly backed away, her eyes drawn once more to the pale, silent dragon who unlike the others seemed to not be enjoying himself even enough to manage a small smile.

  “Then lead the way,” Nicholas said.

  Grateful for the reprieve, she turned and darted back through the beaded curtain into the dim, drafty corridor, though this time the cool air felt refreshing on her heated skin.

  “Nicholas, wait!” someone called from behind, and she turned to see the blonde female from his party jogging to catch up.

  “My name is Aurum,” she said, smiling at Vrishti. “Sorry my siblings were so rude. They’re low on energy.” She grabbed Nicholas’s arm and tucked herself against him conspicuously, her eyes flashing with light that Vrishti had the distinct sense was a silent threat.

  “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she said, giving Aurum a sidelong glance and waving her hand. “I was absolutely starving when I got here last week. Ate them out of half their pantry, I was so hungry.”

  Eating … that wasn’t what dragons actually did, was it? They passed by one of the more elaborate murals that depicted a winged man on his knees with his face buried between the thighs of a priestess. Right. She’d just keep her mind on the task at hand and avoid picturing the pair of flashing white eyes peering up at her from between her own legs.

  “You could join them, you know,” Aurum said. “I saw my brother looking at you. He’s always been the pickiest of us all, if that look was any indication, he wanted you more than any of the others in there.”

  Vristhi shrugged. “Never really had a thing for gingers, honestly …”

  “I meant Aodh,” Aurum said. “The White one. Gavra—my Red brother—is probably the least choosy of us all. I have no doubt if we went back in there now, he’s already had a taste of all the offerings and is sitting back and watching while my sister takes a turn. Aodh will probably just take what he needs vicariously without really diving in.”

  “What about you?” Vrishti asked, interrupting the thread of conversation and darting a look to the side at the pretty—no, beautiful woman clinging to the arm of the only other ursa she’d ever seen. Aurum looked like she was afraid she’d lose him if she blinked. “Are you, ah, mated to Nicholas? Is that why you’re not with the others?”

  She had no idea how the whole mating thing really worked. Her father’s journals had been conspicuously devoid of anything to do with ursa sexuality, though there were plenty of depictions of bears among the artwork at the temple. Somehow they always appeared in trios or more, almost never pairs—and almost always showed two men and one larger-than life woman with exaggerated features, like she was some kind of fertility goddess. She’d stared at herself in the mirror for hours after her last visit, wondering if her own ample breasts, wide hips, and round belly were actually ideal for her race.

  Aurum didn’t answer, and when she glanced at the pair again, there was a gap between them, and both of them were staring pointedly ahead.

  Interesting.

  “We can talk in here,” she said, pushing the door open to the dining hall in the rear of the temple. The heavy rain echoed off the high roof and she headed directly to the kitchen to add wood to the perpetually burning stove and set a full kettle on the dark iron surface. While she waited for the water to heat, she turned to face the others across the sturdy wooden table.

  The nature of their relationship intrigued her. Aurum had relaxed slightly and was no longer giving Vrishti a wary look, but there was still an odd spark of energy between her and Nicholas. Her curiosity about the mating logistics would have to wait. For all she knew,
it was no different than human courtship—which was to say no less complicated an ordeal, and one she’d just as soon not have to think about, either.

  Latching onto the last thing she remembered Nicholas saying, it occurred to her how he’d introduced himself.

  “You said your name was Stonetree. Did I hear that right?”

  “You did,” Nicholas said. “My mother is Maia Stonetree. Do you know her? You are an ursa too, aren’t you, with a name like Rainsong?”

  “Yeah,” she said giving him a helpless shrug. “I guess I am. I only just found out in the Spring. My … my father waited until he was dying to tell me.” Her throat tightened at the reminder, but she pushed herself to continue. “I never knew my mother, but his last wish was for me to find her, except apparently there’s some kind of ritual involved to get into the Sanctuary, which requires something called a Windchaser …” She was almost an outside observer as her hands began to move in wild gestures. “… and if you’re not one, I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get in, but you said … you said …”

  She realized she was babbling, yet still found it impossible to stop the flood of words that had just become tangled up in her throat with a choking sob.

  Before she could object, Aurum was at her side, shushing her gently and wrapping her in a tender embrace. “It’s all right, child, it’s all right.”

  Vrishti buried her face against Aurum’s damp shoulder and let loose for the first time since she’d lost her father. Through her hiccupping tears, she was dimly aware of being led to the table and urged down onto the bare wooden bench. Aurum gave Nicholas some soft instructions and he rose to make the tea while Vrishti cried, her entire body wracked with the sobs of her deeply buried grief.

  Somewhere deep inside was a tiny glimmer of shame over this epic display of ugly tears in front of a pair of strangers she was asking to do her a favor, and yet Vrishti felt free for the first time in months to feel everything she’d held inside.

  When the wave of sadness dissipated, Nicholas sat down on her other side and handed her a steaming mug of aromatic tea. She took a sip, and the flavor instantly made her think of her father again. Tears surged anew.