by K. Panikian
Abaddon pulled a black flask from under his cloak and brandished it. The besy roared once more. The balachko approached and tilted its central head back, its other two heads watching, their eyes rolling wildly. Abaddon poured a couple of drops of dark liquid down its throat.
The demons in the cave leaned forward as one, watching. The balachko gasped and fell to its knees, clutching its chest. Its skin rippled.
Abaddon observed interestedly, too, like he wasn’t sure what was going to happen either when the giant took the potion.
The balachko arched its back, hard, and groaned, the sound echoing in the silent chamber. Then it grew. Its gray muscles widened and elongated and its shoulders gained mass. The gasps of pain stopped after a few moments and it stood again, at least two feet taller than it had been before, and all three of its heads snarled, belching fire and cold wind to buffet the besy in the front row. They roared back, cheering.
The transformation from the small, injured bes to the gargantuan giant galvanized the masses. The cave reverberated with stomps and howls and the newly powerful balachko screamed its elation, beating its muscular chest with fists the size of boulders.
“Now,” Abaddon said sternly, “do you have something to say to your two brothers who didn’t want you to be blessed by the Black God?”
The enormous balachko turned to the other two giants, and all three of its heads grinned. It jumped off the dais and ran at them, bellowing. The fight was brutal and short. The other two balachko were outmatched and clearly not used to fighting as a pair. They tripped over each other, throwing each other in the rampaging balachko’s path, and started blowing fire at every creature nearby indiscriminately.
Within a few minutes, the two unfortunate balachko lay in pieces on the cavern floor and the winning giant panted, bloody but euphoric. It bellowed again, raising its fists high.
Abaddon raised his own fists back. “Now!” he shouted. “Who’s next?”
We watched the demon pass those black drops to a handful of other besy, including both todorats and psoglavs. The bes that he “blessed” grew in size and aggression before our eyes. One todorat had to be tackled to the ground, it was so intent on stomping up an earthquake in the center of the cavern.
Then Abaddon vanished in a whirl of his dark cloak. The same two psoglav guards stepped forward to stand in front of the tunnel entrance that opened behind the dais.
The newly enhanced besy formed up in front of a tunnel near Abaddon’s passageway, then marched out of the cavern together.
Two different psoglavs paced forward and began kicking the bloody pieces of balachko toward the fire pit while the remaining demons in the cavern dispersed, heading down various tunnels.
We remained hidden, edging back farther and farther from the fire, so that the retreating besy wouldn’t see us. There were some tunnels that none of the monsters went toward, and I noted their locations in my memory. We would need a deserted place to rest later.
When the cavern finally emptied, the fire still roaring, I bent my head close to Julian’s. “What should we do?”
“We need to find someplace to talk and plan,” Julian said.
We crept down the empty tunnel nearest to our hiding spot, our headlamps lighting the way once more. There were cobwebs and sharp rocks on the path. We ducked into the first alcove that opened off to the side and crouched behind another boulder.
“No sign of a dragon,” I said.
“No,” Julian said. “But Abaddon’s obviously got something magic going on with that black flask. Those demons that took it were definitely bigger and stronger after. I’ve never seen a transformation like that. They were enormous and powerful.” He sounded troubled.
I nodded. “Maybe it’s dragon blood or something like that?”
Julian agreed. “Have you ever heard of that before? Dragon blood giving super-demon powers?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know that much about dragons. We fight azhdaya when we find them, but they are small and controlled by Abaddon. A real dragon, with three heads? I can’t remember the last time one was seen.”
I tried to think of anything I knew about azhdaya to help, but came up empty. The azhdaya controlled by Abaddon were mere shadows of their wild potential.
“We have to find the dragon and kill it,” I said. “But there were at least twenty tunnels branching out of that cavern. How on earth could we search all of them without being discovered?”
Julian shook his head. “I don’t know. We have to think.”
We both sat quietly. I ran scenarios through my head. If we eliminated the tunnels that the other besy followed when they left the empty cavern, that left the two tunnels that Abaddon and the enhanced besy used, and four tunnels that I saw no one use.
Likely Abaddon would keep the dragon away from the rest of the demons. It was his secret weapon. So that eliminated the tunnel Abaddon’s new troops used.
“I think we should start with the four tunnels that stayed empty when everyone left the cavern.” I told Julian my reasoning.
“I agree. Abaddon’s tunnel is likely the most protected, too, so let’s check the others first. Good idea.”
Deciding to start with the tunnel we were already in, we started moving forward again, checking each alcove for hidden turn offs. It finally dead-ended and we backtracked. One down, three to go.
The next path we followed from the main chamber didn’t have nearly as many cobwebs. I took that as a good sign. As we snuck along, a malodorous stench started to permeate the tunnel. It grew stronger the farther we went.
Finally, the tunnel opened into a small, open space and inside, we saw dozens of cages, perfectly sized for human beings, not monsters. Along both sides of the open space, iron-barred cells lined the walls.
We paused near the entrance. I didn’t hear any noises, nor did I see anything moving. The odor of sewage overpowered everything else, but I also smelled blood.
Controlling my rapid breathing with an effort, I sent out a pulse of air and when it echoed off the stone walls, I felt no heartbeats.
We started walking slowly through the middle of the cages, peering left and right. I saw rags, abandoned knives and swords, but no bodies. When we got to the last cage, I exhaled shakily.
As we headed down the tunnel on the other side, the stench receded.
I shivered as we walked. What a horrifying place to be trapped inside.
Then we found it. The tunnel opened into a cavern even larger than the one Abaddon used for his ritual earlier.
And in the center, chained, lay an enormous azhdaya. Its three heads twined together on the cavern floor as it slept, glowing a dull yellow-green color.
The dragon breathed laboriously; its scales split with open sores. A swath of barely healed tissue covered where its tail should have been.
I caught my breath. It was a prisoner—an abused prisoner.
Chapter 24
I stared down at the chained dragon, confused and aching for its obvious pain. Its wings looked shredded. The pale-yellow membrane in between the tendon ridges was full of tears that wept blood and other viscous matter.
Its claws were ripped out, both on its smaller forearms and its longer legs. Whole sections of scales were torn away.
“Abaddon’s been harvesting it,” I whispered softly to Julian. He’d been carving it up, a piece at a time, to make his magic potion. “He’s killing it slowly, but it’s dying nonetheless. Poor thing.”
Julian raised his eyebrows at me. “Poor thing? It’s a dragon. We need to kill it and get out of here.”
Looking around the cavern carefully, I didn’t see any besy standing guard. Cautiously, we snuck down into the center of the space, creeping from rock to rock and staying in the shadows.
The dragon moved, its damaged wings rustling in the silence, the whisper echoing off the cavern walls. We froze. It settled down again, its breathing raspy.
At its side, we stood dwarfed by the enormous, scaled body—each scale was the
size of a dinner plate. I listened to its rattling breaths and watched its rib cage expand and contract sluggishly. It smelled vaguely reptilian, dry and smoky.
It would be difficult to kill it by stabbing. Azhdaya with two heads had two hearts, so this one likely had three. We might be able to stab it once while it slept, but then it would wake up.
It was chained, but I didn’t know how much slack the chains had. Or if it could expand its ribcage enough to blow fire.
Usually, the best way to kill an azhdaya was to chop of its heads, but we had one sword and it had three heads.
We crept forward again and I saw the necks twined together. Two heads rested on top of the sinuous nest; the third must be underneath, I decided.
The head closest to us was the size of Julian’s body, with large nostrils, a long toothy jaw, like a crocodile, and two short horns. Its nostrils flared gently as it breathed. The eyelid covering the eye closest to me was thin, and underneath, I saw the pupil contract and focus. I sucked in a breath.
The dragon’s eyes snapped open. Whirling orange irises pinned us in place and smoke slipped from its now-gaping mouth.
Shying back, we watched as it opened its eyes wider, raising its head slightly and following our movement like a snake. I felt pinned in place under the burning gaze.
Holding my knife loosely in front of my body, I readied myself to jump out of the way if it snapped at us.
It was the biggest azhdaya I’d ever seen and I felt awed by its potency, despite my fearfully pounding heart.
I am not azhdaya. I am zmeya.
I froze again. Looking at Julian, he seemed as stunned as I felt. It spoke to us?
Not it. She.
I looked closely at the large, glowing orange eyes. Another head rose from the pile and stared. This one had red, jeweled eyes. No, only one eye. The other was missing.
“Are you a prisoner?” I asked her.
The orange and red eyes blinked at me. Right, stupid question.
“Do you know what Abaddon is doing?” I asked next.
He comes. He takes me apart. He leaves. I know nothing beyond this cave.
“How long have you been here?”
The sinuous necks seemed to shrug. Scales slithered as the third head rose from the bottom of the serpentine pile. This one had no eyes at all, its empty sockets scarred and blackened. The scales along its neck looked paper thin; I could see delicate blood vessels expanding and contracting.
My heart hurt. The poor thing.
“Can we help you?”
Julian coughed and pulled me a few feet back. “Help it?” he whispered.
“Her,” I answered. “She’s suffering. She’s obviously not helping Abaddon willingly. We don’t have to kill her to stop Abaddon; we can free her.”
“She’s a dragon. If we free her, she’ll kill us. Just like she killed the people at the farmhouse—your uncle.”
I did not kill anyone. That farmhouse was my home. I am zmeya.
Zmeya. I knew that word. I turned back to the swaying heads. “You mated my uncle?”
The head with the orange eyes blinked at me.
Right, a zmeya could change forms, appearing as a beautiful woman, if she chose. A zmei could appear as a handsome man. In our folktales, sometimes they were helpful to humans. Sometimes they were not.
“It was your babies that hatched in the barn,” I said slowly.
The heads nodded again.
“What happened?”
The heads exhaled in unison, smoke filling the air, and sank out of sight, except for the one with the spiraling orange eyes.
I had the babies in me. Bear knew the demon lord was coming with a troop to capture me. I couldn’t fly away and I couldn’t transform into my dragon shape; it was too close to my time. Bear hid me in the barn and he burned the house, trying to make it look abandoned.
The zmeya let out a long, mournful sigh. In the smoke she expired I saw an illusion of the farmhouse ablaze. A heavily pregnant woman with long black hair staggered into the barn, clutching her stomach and weeping. My uncle paced out of the house, carrying his longsword.
A host of bauks and psoglavs poured out of the trees and my uncle grabbed his medallion. He transformed into a huge bear berserker, his muscles rippling and his face full of sharp teeth. He roared and charged forward, swinging his longsword with two hands.
They fought. I heard Bear change, fight, and then die. The babies came and hatched. I was too weak; I couldn’t save us. Abaddon took us and chained us.
I looked around the cavern for a sign of the baby dragons. The zmeya shook her head at me. Tears filled my eyes.
Now I wait to die. I see my family only in my dreams until then.
My heart broke for her pain. For my own. My uncle died fighting Abaddon, trying to protect his mate and babies. He failed, but I would not. I steeled myself.
“Let us help you escape,” I said. “You can kill Abaddon yourself.”
She shook her head again.
I am too weak. I have no more fire in my belly. I yearn only for death. It will come soon, I think.
“We have to free you,” I said. “We can’t let Abaddon keep making his potion. You must let us help you escape.”
She sighed, tucking her head away with the others.
I will think on this. Come back later.
“Later?” I asked, nonplussed.
The guards come soon. Ask again, later.
Julian tugged at my arm, pulling me away from the dragon. I heard hoofsteps approaching from the tunnel. Running in the other direction, we found another passageway on the far side of the cavern. We ducked out of sight just as I heard a sharp canine bark from the cave. Psoglavs.
We raced down the empty tunnel, our headlamps bouncing red lights off the rocky walls and dusty, gravelly path.
Julian pulled me into an alcove and we crouched, panting. Turning my headlamp off, I tried to quiet my breathing. Julian did the same. Nothing to see here. Only a dark, hollow hole.
After I calmed enough to listen, I didn’t hear any more steps. They must not have seen us and they remained in the dragon’s cave.
I reached down and found Julian’s warm hand. I clutched it to my chest, feeling a knot in my throat and tears gathering in my eyes. I tilted my head back to prevent them from falling. The dragon’s sorrow and despair had been palpable. Abaddon had murdered her mate and her babies. How could she not want revenge?
Julian ran his bearded chin along the top of my head and I nuzzled into him. I tried to settle my breathing and release my sadness before it swallowed me down.
Julian held me tightly and then sat against the wall, pulling me into his lap. “Let’s rest a while.”
I leaned against his broad chest, my tension easing as I relaxed into his strength. Wrapping his arms around me, he stroked my arms.
“I’m sorry about your uncle and your baby cousins,” he whispered finally.
I nodded.
“I don’t understand about the mating thing with your uncle though. She’s a dragon. How did that work?”
“She’s a zmeya, a shapeshifter dragon. She can be a dragon or a woman.”
“Ah,” Julian said.
“When Uncle Bjorn found her, she must have fallen in love and transformed into a woman for him. I’ve heard stories of that happening before, but I thought they were just stories, or fairy tales. The only azhdaya I’ve seen are the little, fierce ones that Abaddon trains like attack dogs. Who would want to mate that?”
“I wonder if all azhdaya have the potential to grow into dragons?” Julian mused.
I didn’t know.
“If she transformed back into a woman again,” Julian said, “the chains would fall off and she could escape.”
I shook my head. “In our stories, they can only transform in the presence of their true love. Uncle Bjorn is dead. She can only be a dragon now.”
We dug through our packs, pulling out more of the smoked rabbit meat and our water. We needed to find another p
ool soon and refill our canteens.
I chewed the meat carefully, wishing it was something else, like an apple or a baked potato, and felt my eyes get heavy. Curling deeper into Julian’s arms, I closed my eyes. He kissed the top of my head and murmured something softly and then I was out.
Chapter 25
Julian woke, his neck bent back at an awkward angle against the alcove’s stone walls. Astrid still slept bonelessly in his lap. He blinked at the darkness all around them, wondering what woke him, and how long they’d been asleep.
Reaching around, he found his canteen and took a long sip of water. Astrid stirred in his arms and then started to wake too.
She yawned and buried her face into his shoulder again. “Ugh, I’m so sick of being in these dark tunnels.” Her smooth hair slid against the skin of his neck and he lifted her chin so her mouth lined up with his in the dark.
“Soon,” he promised, then kissed her soft, pliant lips. She eagerly arched into him and kissed him back. Her slick tongue dancing with his, he muffled a groan before pulling away. “Soon,” he promised again.
They stood and switched on their headlamps, grabbing their packs once more.
Julian didn't like the shadows that haunted Astrid’s face. She was exhausted still, he could tell, and heartsick about her uncle and the dragon. Julian shook his head, still bewildered by that twist.
Creeping down the tunnel, they peered into the dragon’s cave. Julian didn’t see any guards. They crossed to the tangle of heads and Astrid cleared her throat.
The dragon head at the top of the heap cracked open one eye and looked at them. She sighed, a deep rumbling noise, and lifted the head fully to regard them.
“We must free you, or kill you,” Julian said bluntly. Astrid elbowed him hard in the side and he caught her arm. “Abaddon is using you to make his demon army stronger. Soon, he will march again and kill everything in his path. People will die, including the people of your mate. Azhdaya will die, including those that fight with him unwillingly, chained, like you. You must choose.”
The whirling orange eyes stared at him and Julian remained still, unflinching.