by Ann Gimpel
He turned away from her, strode to the fireplace, and tossed wood into it from a brass box sitting nearby. A sharp command and the wood caught. “There.” He smiled. “Now, ’twill be warm for us when we return.”
Aislinn smiled back. This small respite from Lemurians and the dark gods was welcome. In the depths of her being, she hoped it would last forever. She followed Fionn out the door and down both flights of stairs. They’d just crossed the great room to doors on the far side when she heard Rune in her mind.
“We are on our way back. Open the doors.” Something about his tone jolted her into high alert.
Fionn spun midstride and made a dash for the front door. He yanked it open. Moments later, the wolf and raven raced through. Magic bubbled around them, acrid and urgent, as Fionn rebuilt the wards. Bella flew to the back of a chair and curved her talons around it. Rune paced in a tight circle.
So much for that respite. She knelt next to Rune and sank her hands into his thick fur. “Tell me what happened.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Lemurians,” the wolf growled. “Many of them.”
“Humans were with them,” Bella cawed.
“Humans as in prisoners, or humans as in helpers, like I used to be.”
“Hard to tell,” Rune answered. “It looked as if they were there of their own free will, though.”
“They didn’t notice us,” Bella said.
“I don’t think they did,” Rune cautioned. “We were careful. There are lots of ravens around here, so Bella blended right in. I didn’t see any other wolves.”
Fionn trod heavily to where Aislinn sat next to Rune and lowered himself to the carpet. His jaw was clenched, and he made an effort to relax his muscles. He’d hoped they’d have at least a few days’ breather, but the Old Ones must have followed them. Or maybe they were already here. “Where exactly did you see them?” He crooked a finger, and Bella flew to his shoulder.
“The empty O’Reilly manor.” She dug her talons into his muscles.
“Aye, that one is to the east. Did ye check the other manor houses to the west?”
The bird squawked. “You know my hunting paths too well. We started there. Those places were empty.”
“They may have looked empty,” Rune chimed in, “but I thought I smelled humans. Maybe not in those falling down wrecks of homes, but in the nearby woods.”
Fionn grunted and then pushed to his feet. “We’ll all think better if our bellies are full.” He made his way through the winding hall off the great room and down half a flight of stairs to the kitchens. Once, they’d housed banks of fireplaces. He’d replaced them with modern ovens and other appliances, all of which were worthless without power. He opened a thick door and stepped down into a cold room. Floor to ceiling shelves were lined with dried food and grains. “Come on in here and pick something.”
“You’re sounding about as out of sorts as I feel.” Aislinn scanned the pantry shelves. “Well stocked. How about if you surprise me?”
He snaked an arm around her waist and drew her close. Her warmth and scent were so alluring, it was hard to think about anything else. “If I’m out of sorts, ’tis because I’d hoped we’d have a few days to rest and regroup. Given this latest development, the only thing we’ll be doing is crafting a battle strategy.”
“Shouldn’t you contact the others?” She pried his hand off her waist, grabbed a bottle of mead from one of the low shelves, and went back to the main part of the kitchen.
“Aye. And I will just as soon as I have something to eat underway.”
Fionn settled for rice and dried herbs and vegetables. He sniffed the canisters. Many of the dried items were years old. He’d used magic to retard spoilage, but nothing lasted forever. Rune’s claws clicked on the tiled kitchen floor. Thank the goddess he’d had the good sense to return. Left to her own devices, Bella would probably have taken it upon herself to do a full reconnaissance.
He’d just gotten a pan together and called a bit of magic to hold the water at a low boil when the air shimmered. Aislinn, who’d been sitting at the kitchen table nursing the mead bottle, jumped to her feet, hands raised to call power.
“Stand down, lass. ’Tis one of us.”
Gwydion’s form solidified. “Thought I’d interrupt the honeymoon.” He swept the kitchen with his sharp blue gaze. “Convenient. I’m just in time for dinner.”
“Actually, ye’re a shade early.” Fionn stirred the pot and turned to face the master enchanter. “How did ye find your home?”
“Untouched. But Lemurians are—”
“We already know,” Aislinn snapped.
“Och aye, lass, ye’re sounding a wee bit tetchy. If he’s not satisfying you…” He waved a hand toward Fionn and leered suggestively.
“Stop it.” She fell into a chair. “I’m in a bad mood because I’m scared shitless. I spent a whole lot more time with the Old Ones than either of you. I know what they’re capable of.”
“Aye, but ye killed one, too,” Fionn said softly. “And were prepared to kill again when ye were their prisoner.”
Gwydion pulled a chair out and sat, resting his crossed arms over its backrest. He snared the mead bottle and took a long drink. “I put in a request to convene the council so we might strategize.”
“I’m guessing our kin dinna respond to Arawn’s call because they were hard pressed here and couldna leave.” Fionn blew out a tense breath. He’d feared as much when the others hadn’t come. “When and where for the council meeting?”
“In two hours’ time at our usual place.”
“Did someone tell the dragons?” Aislinn asked.
“Bran was going to do that.”
“Good. We’re finally going to do something,” Rune muttered from where he’d curled in a corner of the huge kitchen.
Fionn considered the logistics of including Aislinn and Rune. “It might be easier if—”
“If the dragon is coming, so am I,” Rune broke in.
Aislinn met Fionn’s gaze. “I want him with us. He’s a part of this and deserves to have a say in what we plan. We all do, since everybody’s life will be on the line.”
Fionn opened his mouth and closed it again. He exchanged glances with Gwydion. The other Celtic gods wouldn’t take kindly to a human in their midst, even one with magic. She’d be safe within his warded walls with Rune, but he couldn’t think of a tactful way to get her to agree to remain. It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d simply sit by his side and keep her mouth shut, but that wasn’t her style.
“What?” She looked from Fionn to Gwydion. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Be prepared for some ill will.” Fionn picked his words with care.
“Why? They don’t even know me.”
“Aye, lass, but they’ve known one another for hundreds, if not thousands, of years,” Gwydion said. “It has made the group somewhat insular.”
“I see.” She got to her feet and went to peer inside the cook pot. “Looks nearly done.”
Aislinn sounded hurt, but Fionn didn’t go to her. There were some hard truths she’d just have to come to terms with on her own. He could protect her from the dark, but not from his own people. They’d warm to her eventually—maybe—but it might take years.
She opened a cupboard, shut it harder than she needed to, and moved on to the next one.
“If ye’re looking for bowls, they’re to the right of the sink.” He pulled spoons from a drawer and went to help her dish up dinner.
“Maybe I should go back.”
“Back to what, lass?” Fionn carried a bowl to Gwydion and handed it to him.
She made a sound between a snort and a grumble. “Good question. Back to where I was living before I met you, I guess. I had an underground grotto of my own. It’s probably still there. If it’s not, I can find some other humans and toss my lot in with them.”
“Think I’ll take my meal to the far end of the house and give you two a bit of privacy.” Gwydion’s bare feet slapped aga
inst the tiles as he left the room.
“Aislinn.” Fionn took the bowl from her hands, set it on a countertop, and took her into his arms. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I doona want you to leave.”
“I know that, and I don’t want to, but if having me here will put you in an awkward position, it’s not worth it.” Tears glistened in her golden eyes. “Mostly, I’ve fought alone, but when I’ve had others with me, I’ve had to trust them beyond measure. I can’t have some Celtic god who thinks I’m worthless next to me in battle. I’d have to watch both him and the enemy.”
“Ye’d be by my side in battle and under Dewi’s protection, as well as my own.” He sucked in a tense breath. If he had his way, she wouldn’t be in battle at all, but she’d never agree to that. Her spirit was one of the things he loved about her. He knew better than to try to throw a blanket over it. “Ye doona understand. ’Tis not as simple as all that. They wouldna harm you, but many will feel your place is with your own kind and not with them.”
“Arawn, Bran, and Gwydion didn’t feel that way.” She raised her chin, as if daring him to contradict her.
“Aye, and ’tis because they got to know you, one on one. Also, they are my closest friends. They understand how lonely I’ve been, so they were glad for me and willing to accept you on account of it.”
She laid her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
Fionn started to breathe again. Aislinn had a fiercely independent streak. He’d been frightened she’d take her wolf and jump back to the States.
“Things will be hard enough,” she murmured. “I don’t want to make them any harder.”
He tangled his hands in her hair. Unbound, it streamed down her back and looked like molten fire woven through his fingers. “If ye leave, I will follow you. I made a vow after I escaped from the dark gods that we’d never be separated again.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m sick of being on edge and looking over one shoulder. I want for all this to be over so we can have a normal life together. Do you suppose it will ever happen?”
He kissed the top of her head. “I doona know, mo croi.” His heart ached. He’d finally found the one woman for him after waiting centuries. The specter of losing her in the war that loomed filled him with dread—and a blazing anger. He wanted to kill every single Lemurian who threatened their future. Once they were gone, he’d start on the dark gods and tear them limb from limb, one at a time.
“Ouch. You’re pulling my hair.”
He loosened his grip on the bright strands. “Sorry, leannán. Shall we eat afore it’s stone cold?”
She nodded and gifted him with a wan smile. “We’d probably both feel better if our bellies weren’t so empty.”
He kissed her forehead and handed her dish back. “Afore we discuss the physics of ward dynamics, if ye wouldna mind, I’d like to tell you about a choice Dewi made a verra long time ago. Ye already know about Nidhogg’s imprisonment. What ye doona know is she abandoned a clutch of eggs to hunt for him…”
Dewi was pleased with herself. The coordinates for their jump had been perfect. They’d come out in the large cavern just inside the cave’s concealed entrance. She moved deeper into the elaborate cave system she’d once called home. From the smell of things, the outer caverns had played host to a variety of animals, and even a few humans, but they’d been deserted when she and Nidhogg materialized in the outermost chamber. He walked ahead of her. She watched while he brushed his wingtips over things and reached out to touch special pieces of treasure with a foreleg. She’d warded their hoard with the simplest of spells; it made gold and gems appear to be nothing more than broken rock.
She blew out a nervous breath. Steam plumed. For a moment, she couldn’t see because her eyes brimmed with unexpected tears. Her almost-lost-to-her mate would come to the last cavern soon. Once there, he’d—
Trumpeting shook the walls. “Goddess’s teeth, woman. What have you done here?”
Dewi shuffled beside him. The deepest cave was smaller than the others. It was tight quarters with both of them standing shoulder to shoulder. She gazed at her last clutch of eggs with gold and rubies and emeralds piled around them. “I couldn’t bear to throw them away.”
Nidhogg twisted his long neck so he looked right at her. “You built a shrine to our eggs?”
Dewi couldn’t speak, so she just nodded. Finally, she found her voice. “They were all I had left of you.”
His green eyes whirled in the dim light. He picked up a cream-colored shell and peered at it. “Did you try to bring any of them to life?”
“Nidhogg. Have you lost your mind? It was over a hundred years I was gone hunting you. Eggs must be kept warm.” She reached for the egg, but he shook his head. “What are you going to do with it? I’d planned to clear them out once I had new ones to tend.”
“I am far older than you.”
Dewi crossed her forelegs over her scaled chest and waited. She knew from experience that there wasn’t any way to hurry him. “So?”
“I remember when we were many.”
She nodded. She at least remembered when they weren’t the only two dragons left on Earth. Not that there’d been many when she was young, but she’d never understood why they’d died without reproducing.
“Our ancestors didn’t have younglings for much the same reasons you and I chose not to. We assumed we had time. It turned out we didn’t. The Lemurians have been here for several thousand years. At an atavistic level, they knew we would be their undoing. I believe it is written in one of their ancient prophecies, so they made a point of finding our eggs and killing the young in their shells. They were subtle about it, sneaking in when the dragon was gone and taking great pains to mask their spoor. It took a very long time before we were certain about what they were doing. By then, it was too late. You and I were the only ones left who were young enough to produce viable eggs.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Steam poured from his mouth; he chuckled, but it held a bitter edge. “I am guessing you don’t remember how nervous you were about this clutch. I was afraid if I told you, you’d starve yourself before you’d leave our unborn younglings for even a second. I didn’t expect to be gone long—only a few days. Once I returned, I planned to take turns caring for our brood until they were born.”
Dewi stared at the eggs. “So after I left, those bastards came in here and killed our younglings, even before they would have died anyway?” She felt heartsick.
“No, Dewi. You’re not thinking. The same spell you cast to obscure the gold must have worked with our eggs. You had so much treasure heaped over them, it took me a moment to figure out what you’d done.”
He held the egg in front of his mouth and breathed fire over it. The shell blistered. Nidhogg balanced it between two talons and continued to blast it with fire.
Horrified, she lunged for the egg. It was one thing to dispose of them reverently, quite another to willfully destroy the product of their love. He shook his head and turned so his bulk was between her and their egg. The walls of the cavern flared with crimson light. Dragon scales were impervious to fire, but it got so warm in the small space that Dewi began to pant. Rage and pain roiled through her. Had Nidhogg lost his mind during the years he spent with Perrikus?
The shell cracked. It sounded like a cannon in the confined space. Nidhogg sucked flames noisily. Dewi couldn’t stand it. She craned her neck and shoved her snout into the small space between his neck and shoulder so she could see. Nestled between the palms of his forelegs, the shell rocked as if it had a living youngling inside.
Her heart beat crazily. It wasn’t possible. If the eggs had life in them, she would have known it. She was their mother. She gripped Nidhogg’s shoulder with her talons hard enough to rattle his scales. He didn’t react. All his attention was focused on the egg in his hands. It rolled from side to side. Another crack formed at right angles to the first one. Nidhogg breathed steam over the egg, bathing it in dam
p heat. A scaly red foreleg poked out.
Dewi couldn’t breathe. Her eyes flooded with tears. Where they fell, they added to the gemstones piled at her feet. “How?’ she gasped.
“Our eggs go into a kind of stasis so long as they’re far enough along. I wasn’t certain how developed the younglings were, but at least this one looks as if she’ll make it. Here.” He turned and handed the partially open shell to Dewi.
Her forelegs trembled. “Should I help her?”
“No, just keep her warm. If you reach out with your mind, you can encourage her.” His jaws parted in a soft smile. “It’s how I knew her sex. I’ll start on the rest. Remind me, how many eggs did we have?”
“Fifteen.” Dewi blew on her daughter, her heart bursting with joy. She wanted to ask Nidhogg a million questions, but they could wait.
Another tiny foreleg emerged. The shell opened farther. It took all Dewi’s control not to insert a talon and help the small dragon. Because she’d never been around younglings, she knew very little, other than they grew fast. Within a month’s time, they’d have an impervious coat of scales. Of course, they’d keep growing for years after that, adding layers of scales as they did so.
“You can do this, darling,” she crooned.
“Yes,” a tinny voice chirped. “I can.”
Dewi thought her heart would melt. Miniature forelegs gripped each side of the opening and pushed. The shell gave way; Dewi stared at her firstborn. The little dragon was red like her. Intense blue eyes whirled, and the little one craned her head in all directions. She’s going to be just like me. Tough and curious. Dewi folded her close and murmured wordless endearments while bathing her with steam.
Eight of the fifteen eggs yielded living younglings. Five males and three females cavorted amidst the piles of gold and gems under Dewi’s watchful eye. All the females were red; one male was black, one copper, and three green. As far as she was concerned, they were more beautiful than any treasure she’d ever seen.