Ivy's Dragon: Dragons of Telera (Book 7)

by Lisa Daniels

  Witches who inspired other witches to their craft. Her favorite story as a child had been when the Cursed Queen, dying of corruption, used the last of her power, along with the sacrifice of a thousand other witches to create the Lunar Wastes. To form the single most powerful thing that hindered the Shadows. Women who gave their lives to ensure generations afterwards survived.

  The werewolf chuckled. Raine took the time to examine his face in better detail. The thin beard that framed his oval cheeks gave him a full, confident look. Long eyelashes protruded from his dark yellow eyes, and the thin lips curled in a pleasing manner. The hint of muscle showed itself in his strong forearm, where veins tapered around his muscles and tendons.

  Not bad looking, at all. “In a manner of speaking. I’ve heard some interesting things about your… weapon crafting.”

  Raine folded her arms, ignoring the throbbing exhaustion in her skull. She was also keenly aware of her vulnerability, without her full magic reserves. Bad timing, really. At least she still had her mini crossbow. “I’ve not traded with the Lunehill, before. My main trades are the Spine and the Dreadwood.”

  The werewolf sat at one of the pockmarked, wooden tables, drumming his fingers upon the surface. “The Dreadwood are a tiny band of nomads. Not worth your time.”

  “They also have one of the highest kill counts of Shadows,” Raine pointed out, incensed. Her former lover had been a Dreadwood, before he vanished, fighting the good fight. “Because they actively roam in search of the enemy, rather than always sitting around for them to come. All your kind sacrifice – but they more than others. Do not mock the brave.”

  The handsome werewolf cleared his throat, a flash of annoyance there. “I am here to request that you join Lunehill. Our only witch there is near death. She requires an apprentice to train, to help defend against the Shadows.”

  “Not interested.”

  A sense of menace emanated from the werewolf. Raine suspected he had been tasked to bring her back to Lunehill, at any cost. Her hand twitched towards her crossbow. “What do you call yourself, werewolf?”

  “Linther.” His eyes were flinty specks. “I have heard that you might be one of the most powerful witches in the region. And you fetter away your talent in a wayward inn.” He ground out the words, clearly disdainful of her position.

  Raine’s thoughts dwelled on the Shadow in her cellar. “That’s right. I like things the way they are. Booming business and all that.”

  “Hmm.” The werewolf’s aura turned aggressive. As soon as he bent his legs, Raine whipped out her mini crossbow and pointed it at him.

  “No. Find another witch. I’m not budging from this place.”

  The werewolf narrowed his eyes, staring down the tiny weapon, which seemed ludicrous in her hands, except Raine knew full well the amount of damage her little monster slayer did against supernatural creatures.

  Certainly, enough to cripple the werewolf in front of her. Part of him seemed to retain enough intellect to not insult or try to push a witch. Possibly because from his perspective, she’d flay his skin off or enact some magic shenanigans of which he had no understanding.

  Besides, even if she wanted to give up her business with the Blood Moon Inn, she certainly couldn’t leave the Shadow by itself in the cellar. Not when she needed it to continue crafting her weapons, her protections. People who admired how powerful her magic was, simply did not have access to the same resources as her.

  Linther glowered at her, but didn’t press the matter. He didn’t dare contest her magic, even though she had barely enough to conjure up to force through one finger.

  He left, departing into the icy chill outside, where the endless snows swirled. Raine chewed her lip. Shame, really. Good looking guy. Might have been fun to lure him into her bed for a romp, if he hadn’t been so moon-bent on dragging her to Lunehill because they lacked witches.

  One day, maybe. When I’m done forging everything I can. When the travelers stop coming, seeking a warm abode in a place gripped by remorseless winter.

  Several more days passed since the werewolf’s visit. A headache ripped through her skull, as she sat in her macabre workshop, panting in satisfaction at the finally completed ballista. She was now up to date with all her enchantments, and eager to start her next project. She wanted to try enchanting the sabre next, planning to test its potency in combat. When the two Spine wolves came a couple of days later, to ask if the ballista was ready, Raine presented it to them upon the bar.

  They sniffed at it, appreciative, before giving her the promised items in trade – food supplies, their delicious Spine Mountain brew, and more weapons to bolster.

  Satisfied. Good. Business boomed, and more travelers stopped at the inn, drinking and feasting their way through a cosy night.

  She had hoped, of course, for many more successful days like this.

  One night, after officially closing the bar, and her four guests slumbered in their linen beds, Raine worked on her pet projects in the cellar. Candles lit up the bleak room, filtering through tiny vents hammered into the walls, though it still gave the place a choking sensation. The Shadow that wore her mother’s body watched her in unnerving silence, and it felt as if a ghost was breathing upon her shoulder as she worked on her new assortment of weapons.

  Sometimes, disgust wrought inside when she looked at it. The features had sunken in, appearing less like the mother she knew, with her red-flushed cheeks, her silken red hair and her voluptuous body. Now the host resembled a shrunken, pasty figure where the clothes hung onto skin and bones, giving it a waxy, cursed appearance.

  Not quite a pure Shadow. Not quite a human. In-between. Maybe that’s why it is able to talk? It is using my mother’s brain?

  Her theories on Shadows remained woefully inadequate. They came from the Fractured City. The Wastes were formed by the thousand and one witches who knew the cold was a Shadow’s weakness. Their bones still lay across the landscape, treasures for any witches who could utilize their magical power.

  What else?

  Well, she didn’t know they talked, until this one infected her mother.

  Sighing, Raine concentrated upon the finely crafted metal sword, dripped the Shadow blood onto it, and allowed the magic to tease out her throat, throb her brain and envelop the sword so that it gleamed with new strength.

  The headache hammered at her brain – but there was just a tiny bit more to enchant, just… she gritted her teeth and pushed onto the last section, and the whiplash from the action caused her to curl up on the floor clutching at her head as the pain spiked every nerve.

  The Shadow cackled. “Went too far there, this time? Silly little witch.”

  “Curse… you…” Raine croaked, breathing heavily, eyes scrunched shut to try and filter the migraine.

  Her senses spun. Her mind sunk into oblivion, exhausted by the effort of the spell.

  **

  She woke up to chaos. At first, her brain struggled to comprehend the shrieks, screams and curses that went on, along with the sounds of splintering wood. Somehow, she had fallen unconscious, for moon knew how long – and she gasped in horror as she looked at the center of the ring, and saw the Shadow no longer there.

  Her mind raced double time. Four skeletons lay on the floor. All her weapons were scattered around, the tables overturned, some with hack marks in them. The circle was smudged, and one of the skeletons lay sprawled at the break within the magical protection.

  What on moon has happened here? Panic kick-started her foggy brain. How had she slept through this? What happened? Why? Her thoughts snagged, hitching in terror like her breaths. Her hands trembled as she searched the room, and saw the cellar door hacked to pieces.

  Lastly, her nostrils caught the distinctive, sharp wisp of smoke.

  Fire.

  Wall flickers of flames licked past the cellar door. New screams rent the air.

  No! Galvanized into action, Raine dashed upstairs, only taking her sword and crossbow with her, and a pouch of werewolf teet
h, leaving all her other projects behind.

  She stumbled past the door, through another, stepping over three more skeletons draped in tattered robes – and burst through a door ringed by flames, to see her entire bar – her livelihood – going up in smoke.

  “No!” She screamed, seeing the Shadow, the one supposed to be ensnared within her circle, place her blackened palms upon a hooded figure, who wailed feebly as the skin and flesh melted off their bones.

  The Shadow turned to her as the flames flickered, and it grinned insidiously. “You really should have been awake for this.” It let go of the corpse’s robes, and strode outside. Raine fumbled for her crossbow, attaching a bolt, and staggered outside after the Shadow, even as the cold bit into her.

  Her heart froze in extra fright as she saw dozens upon dozens of Shadows silently lining the borders, waiting for the possessed body of her mother.

  “No…”

  The Shadow turned to her. “Tough life, being a witch, isn’t it? Everyone wants you. Werewolves, human bandits…” The Shadow indicated the skeleton sprawled by the inn’s entrance. The fire ate into the wood, slowing down as it touched the cold, damp outside.

  “I’ll kill you,” Raine hissed, understanding. Bandits must have broken in whilst she lay dead to the world. Looking for her. Torching the place. And somehow, freeing the Shadow.

  “You can try.”

  The Shadows milling about the barrier pushed… and stumbled past.

  Raine’s eyes bulged. “No.”

  The Shadow grinned. “Strangely enough, I don’t want to kill you. Perhaps a sentiment of this old body. But… I think my friends here might have a different idea.” The Shadow folded her arms as the others oozed forward in the darkness, illuminated by the blazing inn behind her.

  My livelihood. Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve strived for. Gone.

  Raine didn’t know how to use the sword professionally. And she had no magic left in her body to conjure. Even thinking about a spell caused a wave of vertigo and nausea to steal over her, and force her to the hard ground, knees burning in cold.

  She raised the crossbow and fired it at the Shadow that talked.

  The Shadow sidestepped, enjoying her futile efforts. “Oops.”

  Shaking, she clicked the barrel attached to her crossbow, loading another bolt. One down. Five to go. Another bolt slid in place underneath the trigger.

  A Shadow moved horrifically fast, slipping and sliding on the snowy cobbles, amorphous body groping for her. They were human approximations, rather than the solid flesh host that she kept imprisoned.

  It’s all over, isn’t it? Everything. I never…

  I’m sorry, mother.

  Something snarled in the black, making Raine’s heart leap. She shot at the closest Shadow, the bolt landing in its direct center, causing it to crumple into a floppy mass.

  A werewolf, coated in silvery gray fur, crashed from the side of her inn, enormous barrel form skidding to her side. Urgently, the wolf bumped its hip against her leg. A whimper escaped his throat. Yellow eyes stared earnestly at her. He then turned to bark and snap at the approaching Shadows, which shied away.

  Taking the hint, Raine clambered onto the wolf with shaking hands, wrapping her arms around his neck, legs squeezing his side. The beast towered as large as a horse, and she heard the Shadow laugh, rather than curse.

  “Ah, werewolves are worthy adversaries… I suppose we’ll have to meet again, Raine…” the voice trailed off into the distance, as the werewolf took rapid, bounding leaps across the snow, stocky chest heaving from his effort. Raine buried her face into his fur, petrified of letting go and falling into the snow, shivering from the wind that whipped at her. She wasn’t exactly adequately dressed for the occasion.

  Neither had her brief stint with a werewolf lover encouraged any sort of bareback riding into the blizzards.

  Clinging onto the fur, with each bound and jar of her bones, she felt her heart being left behind, in the blazing inferno of the inn, the place she could no longer call home.

  Chapter Two

  They traveled for what seemed like miles, not stopping even when they had left the remains of the burning inn far behind. The journey through the dark woods, the windy hills, the frozen creeks and the ghostly villages that had been uninhabited for centuries blurred past. Eventually, Raine said, through chattering teeth, her fingers numb despite the werewolf’s fur bristling around them, “I n-need to get warm clothes. I d-don’t have any of my insulating clothes on me apart from my indoors clothes. W-we need to stop by a village or t-trader.”

  The werewolf skidded to a halt a moment later upon the top of a hill, which overlooked a frozen lake and an assortment of trees, along with what looked like individual settlements. Raine managed to prise herself off, and her limbs creaked in protest and cramp. Pins and needles rippled up her leg as she touched the ground, and with the loss of warmth against her front, the cold intensified. The werewolf morphed at last, revealing the muscular, oval cheeked face of Linther, the werewolf who had tried to “recruit” her a few days back.

  “I should h-have known,” she sighed, running a trembling hand through her red hair. “Have you been seriously stalking me this whole time, waiting for an o-opportunity to t-take me?”

  “That doesn’t matter at this point, does it, witch?” Linther folded his arms, giving her a brief once-over. “I’ll check in the settlements here for clothes for you. Obviously you’ll need to come with me because I doubt you can even fend off a measly little Shadow by yourself now.”

  “T-then what?”

  “Then I take you back to my town. I assume you’re in need of a new home?” His lips curled in a hard, mirthless smile.

  Raine laughed bitterly, doubling up so she pressed her stomach against her knees, trying to fight off the cold. That cursed wolf could have at least waited until they reached a village before making the announcement. “You might b-be right about that. J-just get me… c-clothes…”

  The werewolf nodded, before transforming, and allowing Raine to clamber on stiffly, barely managing to keep her grip this time. So moon-cursing cold…

  Bounding past snow drifts, which showered around them as he ploughed a way through, he then circumnavigated the frozen lake, paws padding confidently on the ground.

  All the while, as Raine pressed her face against his fur, she thought about the Shadow that talked, using her mother’s dead lips to taunt her. The way her barrier had so mysteriously vanished, as if months and months of protection meant nothing.

  She’d been playing with fire, keeping that Shadow. She should have realized, the moment the blasted thing could talk, that something was up. But she’d made an assumption in her mind… oh, maybe Shadows can talk if they possess a human. Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen one speak before, because I’ve never seen a human get possessed. Just eaten.

  Fool. Blasted fool. That thing, which she kept so merrily confined at the order of her mother, begging her to use her body for something good – contained power beyond anything Raine comprehended.

  No wonder the Shadows acted so keen to tease at her barriers on a half-moon basis, in-between her regular flow of customers and traders.

  Then those bandits. If she hadn’t pushed herself too hard with the magic, maybe she would have been conscious enough to do something.

  They must have broken in, searched all the rooms, then came down to the basement. Then they saw the Shadow and my unconscious form. Then… I don’t know what they thought. Maybe it pleaded for them to free it? Said I was trapping her unfairly?

  Small chance of that. She looked like a corpse.

  But they did release her.

  And with that release, Raine’s former life had ended, just as it dwindled before, with the death of her mother.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, and finally, the numbing sensation inside her that concealed everything else at bay, broke into tears, leaking out of her eyes and into the werewolf’s mane.

  Shortly aft
erwards, a kindly, isolated werewolf and his wife, located in a small cabin hut provided the clothes. Raine eagerly dressed into them, whilst the elderly wife helped, her fingers expertly fitting on the clothes, before she invited Raine to warm herself up by the fire for a short while.

  Linther conversed with the elder werewolf, keeping his story short and lacking a whole lot of truth, and Raine merely nodded along to it. She did give them a tooth each in thanks for their assistance. Good deeds always needed rewarding.

  It surprised her to see the couple living far out from tribal protection, however. Wouldn’t they struggle against the Shadows? When she raised her concern, Linther shrugged.

  “They’re not that far out. There’s a village about an hour’s walk away from them.”

  “It’s still dangerous, though,” Raine replied to Linther. “I think it’s an unnecessary risk by them.”

  “It’s their choice,” he replied, and that was the end of the matter. Now Raine wore warmer clothes, and no longer felt the icy chill of the Lunar Wasteland sneaking in for an attempt on her life, she was able to think clearly, even as she clung to Linther’s broad back, as he bounded through the snow towards Lunehill in the brief sliver of daylight the wastelands offered. Pangs of guilt and a strong essence of dismay wrought her system. How could she not feel terrible, knowing everything was left burning into ash? Never mind the poor traders, the patrons and travelers who had relied on her little inn for years.

  She envisioned traders turning up, eyes bulging in disbelief at the sight presented to them. One source of income for them forever eliminated, one less little sanctuary in the wild north. She didn’t have the means or material to rebuild. She didn’t have anything.