by Ann Gimpel
She wanted to ask a thousand things, but maybe she should arrange them so they made better sense. One of her hands found its way into a pocket, and she curled her fingers around the gemstone she’d taken from the ocean floor. It quivered warmly in her palm almost as if it were laughing.
Did it understand it was returning to Dragon Central?
She chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Aegir asked, and she drew out the stone and showed him.
“This. I think it knows it’s going home.”
Chapter 13
Aegir stared at the gem. Magic lit it from within, and he knew at once it had formed from a dragon’s tear. Very few could touch them without losing a hand—or their lives. That Raene had filched it from the sea outside Gregor’s castle and carried it all this way might bode well for their current mission. She’d never seen a dragon before, much less one shedding tears, so the ruby had to have come from their sojourn to the Kara Sea.
She turned it this way and that, and its light danced along the walls of the time travel tunnel. “It’s so pretty. Almost like it’s alive.”
“It is alive, lass,” he replied. “It holds a wee bit of dragon essence. Whatever possessed you to pick it up?”
“I’m not certain.” She shifted positions until she faced him, taking care not to touch the walls. “I was amazed and delighted by how Tarika gathered the small dragon close and hugged it. I’d never have guessed her capable of tenderness. And I was even more nonplussed when I saw their tears turn to gemstones. I’d read about such miracles in the old tales, but I always figured stories like that were, well, just stories.”
“That explains why ye took it, but not why ye werena struck dead or blind or maimed for stealing gems from a dragon,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as he could.
“What?” Her anxiety spiked, the shift in her mood quick and obvious.
He gripped one of her hands. “Calm yourself. Remember what I said about the guardian. He’ll eject us from the tunnel and not allow us entry for whatever period of time he deems appropriate. Could be hours or days or weeks.”
Raene nodded, and the wild look left her eyes. “You startled me. How could Tarika view me as a thief?”
“Ye’ve heard about dragons and their hoards?” At her nod, he went on. “Any gemstone in proximity to a dragon belongs to them, and it certainly includes gems they’ve manufactured. Dragon tears are a precious commodity. They used to bring incredible prices at underground marketplaces and were the best of bartering tools.”
“Fascinating. I bet they’d still command a premium price,” she noted. “But I didn’t take it because I wanted to sell it.”
“Good thing. The wrath of dragonkind fell on any man so foolish as to enrich himself from their gemstones.”
Raene frowned. “So dragons used to be more common on Earth?”
“Aye, lass. Especially in the Highlands and other northern climes where they flew freely, helping themselves to herds of cows, sheep, and oxen. Their scales are impervious to arrows, and by the time men switched to high-powered rifles, the dragons had mostly left. All but a few.”
“I’ve never seen one.”
“The last of them abandoned the Highlands about the time Angus and Arianrhod met. One particular dragon, Eletea, had been tricked by a lover who wished to rid himself of her. Once that problem was laid to rest, I believe she retreated to Fire Mountain.”
“Yes but I’m more than two centuries old. I’ve wandered the Highlands for a long time and never seen a dragon.”
“Were ye on the lookout for them?” He still held her hand. It felt good and right tucked within his grip.
“You’re teasing me. Of course not. How could I be on the lookout for something I didn’t believe existed?”
He nodded. “And there it is, lass. Ye dinna believe, so ye’d never have seen them.” Aegir adopted a more serious tone. “When we arrive at Fire Mountain, assuming we’re allowed past their gatekeeper, do not pick anything up. Not a rock. Not a gem. And certainly not the blocks and bars of gold and silver lying about. Be assured each item has been claimed by a dragon even if they haven’t yet dragged it back to join the remainder of their hoard.”
“Not even to look at?”
“Not even to stand near. Dragons are the most possessive creatures on all the worlds. They’ll roast you with fire and ask questions afterward.”
“I understand.” She matched his somber tone. “I’ll leave everything where it is. Should I offer the ruby back to Tarika?”
Aegir considered the question. Only two possibilities existed. Either Raene didn’t mention it, and hopefully the dragon wouldn’t notice it, which wasn’t likely. Or she returned it, which would reveal she’d taken it in the first place.
“Guess I should have left it back on the island,” Raene muttered after he’d been silent for a spell.
“If ye’d done that, it makes it appear ye truly did steal it. Nay, ’tis with us for a reason. We shall have to wait and see how things play out.”
“I’m sorry.” She tucked the ruby back within the folds of her jacket. “There are lots of rules, and I don’t understand any of them. Hell, I’m not aware of their existence—until I’ve transgressed. Like when I tried to join your pod.”
He tucked her other hand in with the first, holding tight to them both. “’Tis on account of living as human for most of your life. Ye’ll learn about being a Selkie—”
“Not if I go back to my bakeshop,” she countered.
He ran his free hand through his hair and gentled his tone. “The odds of you returning to Wick aren’t predictable. If Arcadia has thrown her lot in with the Druids by creating an illusion sure to draw wickedness across her borders, we have moved into an endgame.”
He took a measured breath, wanting to protect her but needing her to recognize how serious things were. “If we lose the battle, magic will fade. Surely, ye’ll wish to spend what little time remains to us in the seas.”
She closed her teeth over her lower lip, biting hard enough a drop of blood welled. “I’d figured out the part about Arcadia. I’m guessing such a thing has never happened before or it would be part of the old stories.” Raene shut her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she said, “I can’t think about losing. It’s not productive. Better for me to remain in the moment, fight what’s in front of me.”
He tightened his grip on her hands in silent support. He’d been so caught up in worry about his pod and what would happen to Earth once White Magic departed, he’d skirted the short-haul perspective.
They hadn’t lost anything. Not yet. If the goddess blessed them, they’d succeed.
He twisted to glance at the rough time markers inscribed in the side of the tube. “Not much farther.”
She pried her hands out from his and craned her neck to see what he’d just checked. “What language is this written in?”
“This far back, they’re runes in ancient Minoan.”
“No wonder I can’t decipher them.”
“Closer to modern time, the Guardian switched to Roman numerals. The marker we just passed suggests we’ve made it to about a thousand years before men started using Christ to mark the passage of time,” he explained.
“Doesn’t seem as if we’ve been in here for all that long.”
“We haven’t.” Aegir suspected the guardian was privy to the nature of their journey and had speeded things up. He’d never met the divine being who managed the time-travel portals.
“You’re quiet,” Raene observed.
“I’ve been thinking about the best way to approach the dragons and about the one who caretakes this portal through time. He and his brother, the Dream Guardian, wield enormous power.”
“I may have met the Dream Guardian once,” Raene said.
“Tell me about it,” Aegir urged, fascinated because he’d never come face to face with either brother.
“Not sure if I can without tipping the negative emotion meter that’s supposed to be
the kiss of death.” She smiled ruefully. “It happened after Rolf stole my pelt, when I was railing against my fate, but that will have to be enough for now.”
“I ken well enough how devastating it must have been. Why do ye believe ’twas the Guardian?”
“Because his eyes matched what I’ve read of him. He never talked to me, but I looked into his eyes and a story unfolded. Turned out it was an accurate depiction of the next half century.” She squinched her brows together. “I never imagined eyes could display a collage that held me riveted. It was like watching a movie.”
“Later, I’d value hearing the whole story.”
“If we have a later”—she smiled ruefully—“I’ll tell it to you.”
“Ye mention myths and stories a lot. I’m guessing ye like to read.”
Her smile deepened. “I adore reading. It’s pulled me through difficult times.”
The rocking slowed and came to a halt.
“Ready yourself, lass. This next part happens fast.” He stood and pulled her upright, holding her against him. The time-travel tunnel’s walls faded, and a gateway formed, shimmering in shades of silver white. Aegir hustled them through it. Any hesitation at this point met with unpleasant consequences.
Once the guardian was done transporting someone, he was truly done. If you didn’t move quickly enough, a blast of wind tossed you out of the tunnel onto your stomach.
The hot, dry, almost unbreathable air of Fire Mountain hit him like a wall and seared his nostrils. He imagined the small hairs within burning to a crisp. Raene gasped and shielded her eyes from the merciless twin suns beating down on them. Packed, dry red earth stretched in every direction, but it wasn’t flat. Hummocks and boulders interrupted it at intervals. The glitter of gold and silver flickered invitingly from where the suns’ rays bounced off assorted coins and bars of precious metals. Cliffs rose in the distance. Within them lay the dragons’ council chamber and the single spring that provided water in this arid, volcanic land.
Aegir had been there before when the dragons had been more kindly disposed toward him than the occasion they’d sent him packing without so much as an audience.
“What happens next?” Raene kept her voice low, almost as if she were afraid of disturbing something she couldn’t see.
“The dragons know we’re here. One of them will show up soon.”
“We didn’t exactly come up with a plan,” she ventured.
“Nay, lass. ’Twas wishful thinking on my part. No such thing as a plan when ye’re dealing with dragons. They can sniff out partial untruths.”
“So we lay our cards on the table?”
“Aye. If we get that far. ’Tis entirely possible—actually likely—the dragon who flies to meet us will refuse to hear us out. If that happens, he’ll stand guard until we leave.”
“Why not a she?” Raene tried to smile but ended up hiding her mouth in the crook of one arm. “Damn, breathing is a chore here,” she mumbled.
Sweat dampened his forehead. He swiped a forearm across it, but not before some dripped in his eyes. The dragons could have settled anywhere, yet they’d bound themselves to this inhospitable borderworld. Supposedly, herds of wildebeests roamed, serving as both food and possibly entertainment when the males held their annual dominance displays. He had no idea what they grazed on unless the dragons planted grain in a distant part of Fire Mountain.
And he’d never actually seen anything living here other than dragons.
As they waited, he turned in a full circle. A string of volcanoes, some belching steam and smoke, circled the borderworld. Fire Mountain was the largest. He picked it out easily as it assumed a prominent position on the horizon. Anything that high should have snow, but not here.
Raene wiped her face with a corner of her jacket. She started to take it off, but then muttered something about the heat being worse without it. She sank to the sandy dirt. Before Aegir could correct her, haul her to her feet before some dragon decided she’d disrespected them by sitting, she jumped back up.
“Oh hell! That’s hotter than the air, if it’s even possible.”
“They’re watching us,” he cautioned her, mouth right next to her ear. “I ken the heat is oppressive, but ye must remain standing.”
“How long before our emissary of goodwill shows up?” Raene offered a lopsided smile. Sweat tracked down her face and dampened her hair, turning it a darker red.
“I doona ken.”
He didn’t bother to correct her, tell her it could just as easily be the hangman set to tighten a noose around their necks, as an emissary of anything positive. He rocked from foot to foot to mitigate heat burning the soles of his feet. He’d never had to wait this long. During his other trips to Fire Mountain, a dragon had descended from the skies moments after his arrival. He had no idea what the delay meant. Surely, Fire Mountain hadn’t run out of dragons available to serve as a greeting party.
He sent magic zinging outward, checking. And withdrew it fast. Dragons were here. Lots of them. Nothing to do but wait until one appeared.
Twin suns crossed the sky while they remained near where the tunnel had spit them out. Thirst became a constant, nagging companion. If he’d known how long they’d be here, he’d have brought water. He knew better than to cross to the opening he could barely see in the cliffs. Water lay within, but the pool was sacred to dragonkind. They’d kill anyone who drank from it without leave.
“Should we go?” Raene’s voice sounded as cracked and dry as his throat.
He glanced at the sky for the umpteenth time. “If the suns reach the horizon and no one has come, then we shall, indeed, depart.”
“Was this some kind of test? Leaving us here like this?”
He shook his head. He had no idea, and anyone who second-guessed a dragon was the worst kind of fool. He brushed a strand of Raene’s hair back from her wet face. Much longer and both of them would run out of sweat. If that happened, they’d have to summon the time travel tunnel before the heat killed them.
The steady beat of huge wings carving through the still, windless air snapped his head up. Two dragons, one black and the other a coppery gold, winged toward them. The golden dragon was on the smallish side—for a dragon.
Aegir stood next to Raene, facing the approaching wyrms.
They landed amid a small shower of sand and rocks, smelling of fire and sunbaked clay. Aegir bowed low. “Thank you for heeding our arrival.”
“Pfft. We figured ye’d leave, but ye dinna,” the black said. “My name is Keene.” He nailed them with his whirling blue-green eyes.
“I told you they wouldna go without an audience,” the gold said. “I am Eletea.” Her whirling eyes were dark with copper centers.
“The dragon from the Highlands?” Aegir quirked a brow.
“We ask the questions.” Keene punctuated his words with a blast of fire, turning his head at the last possible moment to miss immolating them.
Aegir batted back annoyance. The goddamned dragons were arrogant as fuck. “Fine. Ask away.”
“We know why ye’re here,” Eletea intoned in a singsong voice that made him want to strangle her.
He started to inquire if keeping them waiting for hours was akin to refusing aid but didn’t. Being chided once for trying to glean information was quite enough.
Raene squared her shoulders. “If you already know Arcadia is under attack, will you lend us your assistance?”
Aegir froze. While he believed in clear communication, he’d have traded a few pleasantries first, although the dragons were making that approach damned difficult.
“Ha!” Another blast of fire from Keene. “Ye havena been a Selkie for long.” His nostrils flared and he leaned closer, snuffling like a pig hunting truffles. “How is it ye smell of Tarika?”
“They helped her, you cretin.” Eletea smirked. “Ye never listen. Ye’re too busy telling the rest of us how wonderful ye are.”
Keene twisted his sinuous neck to look down at the other dragon. “Disrespe
ct willna be tolerated, youngling.”
Fire blasted from Eletea’s mouth. It hit Keen square in the chest and bounced off harmlessly. Made sense their scales would be impervious to fire since they’d been forged in the stuff.
Eletea returned her attention to him and Raene. “The reason ye’ve been waiting for so long is we canna make up our minds about what to do. Some dragons council jumping into your war with demonkind. Others are less enthusiastic about setting such a precedent.”
Aegir bowed low again. “I bring word from the Arch Druid. He promises two Druids will be assigned to do your bidding forever.”
“With such an incentive, who could say nay?” Keene laughed uproariously at his own joke, puffing steam and smoke and ash.
“Speak for yourself,” Eletea huffed. “I could find a use for my very own Druid.”
“What makes ye believe one would be assigned to you?” Keen countered. “They’re seers. Like as not, they’d help our two blind seers look into the future.”
Aegir couldn’t restrain himself. “Have you?”
“Have we, what?” Keene’s eyes whirled faster, and Aegir looked away.
“Scryed the future of Earth?”
“Why would we do that?” Eletea demanded. “Humankind are no concern of ours.”
“What happens to dragons if good magic fails?” Raene asked.
Keene replied, “Nothing.”
In the same breath Eletea said, “We’re not certain.”
“Mmph. Which is it?” Raene persisted.
Keene puffed out his chest and crossed his taloned forelegs across shiny black scales. “There is no precedent, so we canna be certain.”
“When your seers look in the pool or their glass or however they gather information,” Aegir pressed, “what do they see?”
“That is for dragonkind to know.” Keene’s words held finality.
More wingbeats drew Aegir’s attention, and he shielded his eyes with a hand. This time, a red dragon approached. As it drew nearer, he was certain it was Tarika. She landed in a flurry of heated air and displaced rocks.