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

by Lisa Daniels

  The naysayers who shied from her in the streets as if she was already undead, like Erlandur’s wolves, or the Shadows they kept locked in their chambers became less, when Yarrow walked with a little spring in her step, instead of weighted despair.

  One morning, Vrin thought he could surprise her. He gathered some of the best Spine food together – roasted tawnuts and goose slices, politely asked to be admitted in by the guard, and walked into her writhing and tossing upon the bed, sweat pouring down her face, her fingers contorted like claws as she scraped for an invisible hand hold.

  Immediately, he placed the bowl of food down and dashed to her side, pinning her body down before she could harm herself anymore.

  “Yarrow. Yarrow! Wake up!”

  Horror seared him when she opened her eyes, and madness shone in them. Black seeped into the eyeballs, and a rattling growl reverberated at the back of her throat.

  “No. No! Fight it!”

  She clutched him by the collar of his robes, breathing fast, hissing, “I… it’s… kill…”

  Her father stumbled into the room, his eyes wide. “She’s losing!” Vrin snapped the sentence. “Can you get any of the witches? Anyone?”

  Wordlessly, her father scampered out, not even bothering to protest Vrin’s presence there. The guard vaulted into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the delirious witch. Oh sweet moon, the infection was creeping up her arms, inking into her chest.

  Raine burst into the room a moment later, followed by Hragun and Priya. Raine had the needle in her hand, and she plunged it into Yarrow’s arm when Vrin and the guard held the feverish witch down. When Raine siphoned out the blood, now far more black then red, Yarrow let out a sigh, and her convulsions ceased.

  The mood was solemn as she got shakily out of bed to wash herself.

  “I don’t know what else we can do,” Raine said softly.

  Yarrow shook her head, squeezing her mother and father’s hands. “Thank you. Please leave me with Vrin. I wish to talk to him alone.” She bent over the sink in the bedroom, splashing it over her face, limbs still quivering like a scared cat. Hragun still held a menacing aura whenever he regarded Vrin, but he conceded to his daughter’s wishes. His dying daughter’s wishes. Priya followed after him, for once, the powerful witch impotent and helpless. Raine left last with the guard, but not before taking off the tooth necklace she wore, to loop it around Yarrow’s neck.

  “May it perhaps offer you some willpower in the days to come,” the witch said.

  Yarrow swallowed, wrapping the new gift in her palm.

  Alone, Vrin waited for her to speak, though he didn’t know how to react or what to do. It seemed no matter what he said, what anyone said – the darkness would inexorably creep over her.

  “I don’t know why you keep coming to help me. Not that I’m one to complain, but it does confuse me.” Yarrow finished washing off the worst of the sweat and whirled upon him. “I’m a leper. Death breathes over me. My skin is blemished. My magic is gone. I am nothing to this world.”

  “That’s not true. You’re something. To your mother, your father. To the witches. To me.” The last words came out a whisper.

  “To you?” Her laughter came mocking, scornful. “I have not treated you the way you deserve. You keep coming to help me, you keep trying to stave off those voices, and I’m rewarding your effort with this. I don’t see what’s in it for you.”

  His heart twanged painfully. “You,” he said, eventually. Something wedged in his stomach, influenced his heartbeat. “And that mischievous witch who thought she could lure me into her bed on their first meeting.”

  She remembered that with a smile, before her face dropped. “Will you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Will you come to bed with me? I don’t know how much… longer I have. I’d rather not die and never know what it was like to be with you.”

  A shiver of arousal rippled through Vrin. He moved closer to Yarrow, who watched him expectantly, a little light returning to her formerly heavy eyes.

  No way. He couldn’t deny her this. Not now.

  He closed the distance, and their lips made contact for the first time.

  She wasn’t kind or gentle in the touch. She grabbed him, squeezed him to her, kissing urgently, as if any moment, something might happen to ruin the moment, to prevent her from ever experiencing him to her fullest.

  She ripped at his clothes, and he helped peel off hers between stolen kisses, using his superior strength to throw her onto the bed, and pounce above her.

  She didn’t want soft or loving. She wanted hard, rough and fast – something that made her feel, something that distracted her from the cruel voices inside.

  His erection throbbed painfully, longing for her wetness and warmth, and when he entered, she clamped her thighs around his hips, immersing herself into the act.

  He came too fast, not expecting it. The feeling enervated him, but he knew he couldn’t stop. She needed this.

  With a growl, he pulled himself out of her, and began kissing down her body, intending to fill her mind with nothing else but him.

  His heart, however, ached in both joy and sadness. Somewhere, he hoped that she wouldn’t give in.

  That she would find a way to hold the voices at bay.

  Chapter Five

  Somehow, somewhere, the incessant voice that pounded within her had quietened. She stared at the empty space where Vrin had lain next to her after their romp, and saw the cold breakfast he had intended to surprise her with.

  Honestly, she clung to him because she wanted to feel something before she died, anything but the constant reminder that darkness knocked at her door. He had been supportive, kind, solid, and she took advantage.

  Because what right did she have to like, to love, when this vile infection coursed through her veins?

  The moon shone brightly outside, staring down at her children in a brilliant gleam of yellow.

  Give in.

  She dismissed the voice, got dressed in her warmest clothes, and peeked through the keyhole of her chambers. A guard stood dutifully outside.

  Stealthily, she crept to the window and prised it open, wincing when it made a tiny squealing sound. No one reacted. No one saw. She brushed off the snow that had formed upon the sill and clambered onto the ledge outside. Her shoes struggling to keep a good grip on the outside, she slithered onto a roof. Now people noticed her. Hard not to get noticed in a fortress full of sensitive individuals alert for Shadow activity, but she didn’t care.

  She sensed the Shadow nearby. Her blood pulled her to it. Hatred pulsed within, and she slid onto the cold, snow packed ground, and through the building where the Shadow presence emitted from.

  This hadn’t occurred before. Normally, she just heard the voice whispering, and the darkness clawing.

  Now, she felt something different. Power. As if magic lingered in her veins again, though not in a shape she knew.

  A couple of witches were in the room, and they gaped at her as she strode towards one of the ten Shadows imprisoned in their circles.

  “Leave her. Leave her!” Raine recognized her from one of the workstations. She held up a palm against the three guards who paced into the room.

  “Miss, isn’t she –”

  “We can take her if it comes to that. But wait, please!” She turned her attention elsewhere. “Yarrow. Can you understand me?”

  Give in.

  “Yes.” Yarrow forced the word out. She stared at the amorphous Shadow in front of her. Her blood screamed at her to step forward.

  For some reason, there was no fear. Just an odd, floating conviction that she needed to do this.

  The Shadow pressed against the invisible barrier, keen to reach her. To connect.

  Risking everything, obeying the call of her blood, Yarrow reached over the barrier and her palm came into contact with the Shadow’s head.

  A dam of thoughts flooded.

  Pain kill hatred dead all of us dead not rest
ing not sleeping still moving miserable hateful anger. The Shadow jerked, raising its arms to grasp hers.

  Gasps and exclamations sounded from behind, but Yarrow ignored them.

  Hatred anger giving in never stops never stops please make it stop please endless agaonizing.

  Yarrow closed her eyes. The Shadow’s thoughts overlapped with others, like a cacophony of screams.

  What are you, Shadow?

  The Shadow quivered at this mental question, its bulbous form fluctuating.

  We are no one fragments hungry thirsty moving vengeance dark filled inside. Then, a pause in the flow of chaos. Give us death.

  You want to die? Yarrow pulsed the thought. The gibbering madness became contained, now that she understood the source of the voice, the frequency they emitted at.

  Yes die kill death.

  Then why don’t you?

  The Shadow seemed to hesitate at this thought, confused. Then, it retracted from her hand, inflating and expelling like lungs, before it disintegrated into nothing. Brief happiness touched her thoughts from the expiring monster.

  “By the moon,” Raine whispered, as Yarrow turned, facing the stunned audience who had now poured into the barn-like expanse.

  Give in.

  Yarrow walked past the Shadows, pulsing the same thought.

  Rest in peace.

  Within moments, all ten Shadows had collapsed into nothing.

  A hushed, terrified silence filled the enclave. Hragun stood at the back in his hulking human form, his yellow eyes expanding in shock. Erlandur pushed his way through the crowd, along with Targun, Kain and Vrin.

  “What happened?” Erlandur said, his voice strong, projecting through the room.

  Yarrow sifted through the attraction in her blood. She could sense more Shadows. She could, if she strained her mind, hear their voices. “Turns out I might have an entirely new power,” she said.

  A beat.

  “That’s nice,” Raine said, though she sounded both awed and alarmed. “But can you not kill all our Shadows here? We need them for the weapons.”

  Erlandur chuckled. “Interesting. You were able to touch it and not die. How?”

  “I’m partially one now,” Yarrow said without emotion, though her heart danced in sudden delight, sudden inspiration. “I can hear them. I can feel them. I can affect them.”

  She wobbled slightly on her feet. “And they listen to me.”

  Naturally, she chose that moment to have her legs cave out from under her, and she fell to the cold floor.

  Give in.

  No.

  Hands helped her back up. Belatedly, Yarrow realized she was now suffering the recoil of her magic. Her Shadow magic.

  “Told you you’d be useful.” Vrin smirked at her then, and the room erupted into conversation, processing the events of what they had just seen.

  What a strange twist of events.

  Yarrow, so close to death, now had some form of control over it.

  But how?

  Later in the night, all the clan leaders and witches gathered, with Yarrow as their subject of talk. They drilled her about the power, tried to fathom what it was, and if they could spread it as a weapon amongst other witches.

  Yarrow stood adamant on the fact: no. “Anyone who has this happen to them will have the voice inside. I do not wish this upon you.”

  “What changed?” Erlandur asked, his legs spread as he leaned forward on the chair. “What made you go and use this magic?”

  Yarrow shrugged. “It changed…” Her face flushed crimson. Certain events clicked into place.

  Smokes. It changed after Vrin and I…

  Vrin saw her embarrassment, made the connection, and coughed politely to draw everyone’s attention. “I think she’s saying she changed when she got retested for magic.”

  Hragun’s face went livid. “You? YOU?” He got up, hands like claws, and he needed to be physically restrained by Erlandur, Priya and Kain. “YOU TOUCHED MY DAUGHTER?”

  “Calm down!” Erlandur snapped. “He may have saved your daughter’s life!”

  Hragun wouldn’t calm down though, and eventually needed escorting out. His yells and frothing anger were hurled behind him as he vanished.

  An awkward silence prevailed. “Sorry about my dad,” Yarrow said, feeling the need to defend him. “He just gets super protective. He got mad enough when I first unlocked my powers.”

  “This is so… fascinating,” Raine said, eyes shining like stars. “Unbelievable.”

  “I have no idea,” Yarrow said. “We’ve officially gone over the edge of the cliff into unknown magic territory.”

  “You know what this means? You realize what this means?” Raine leapt to her feet, excitement in her bounce. “We have a Supreme. On our side.” Gasps punctuated the statement. “She’s a Supreme. She has the powers of control.”

  “I don’t think it’s like that,” Yarrow said, extremely embarrassed by the shouts that followed Raine’s words. “I doubt a Supreme would faint after one attempt at magic.”

  “A baby Supreme, then,” Raine corrected, still not letting go of her theory. “You said you could hear their thoughts, right? That you told the Shadows to rest, and they did?”

  Yarrow nodded.

  “Well, from what we’ve seen, Supremes have that same type of control. Except, obviously they’re not using it to put their minions to sleep. So. You got infected. By a Supreme. Then you uh, got tested. And it unlocked this power.” Her face momentarily fell. “If I knew… I could have saved my mother.”

  No matter how Yarrow tried to downplay it, everyone looked at her with a mix of reverence and fear. True excitement flicked through Erlandur’s eyes, through the leaders.

  They had a new weapon.

  One that Yarrow still didn’t understand.

  Give in.

  Of course, the voice always lingered there, always tapped…

  But she could hold it.

  Just.

  She asked to have a break from the war council, and they allowed her outside to grab a breath of air. She stared at the sky, thinking of her father, her family, of the strange, tainted magic in her skin.

  I never wanted to be this. She examined her hands. I mocked Raine. I hated her method, her use of Shadow blood. Yet I am now no better. I am this thing. And I see into their minds.

  Vrin stepped beside her in the cold night, which tickled her cheek with icy fingers. His yellow eyes crinkled at her, and she reached for his hand. He grabbed it and squeezed.

  “It’s a lot to take in,” she said.

  “I know the feeling.”

  Give in.

  With a sigh, she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a moment, letting herself forget that the outside world existed. That the curse influenced her blood.

  “If these powers work the way Raine thinks,” Yarrow said, her mouth twisting as she considered her words, “then our expedition will need me. And I need you.”

  “Of course.”

  “I need you to keep me on the straight path. To keep encouraging me if I stumble. The voice isn’t gone. It’s just quieter.”

  Vrin kissed her on the forehead. “I will.”

  Empowered, Yarrow opened her eyes. A sense of purpose filled her.

  Give in.

  She wasn’t a Shadow. She might have their taint in her veins, but she knew a little of how to use it against them.

  I can rain death upon them. I can creep into their minds and whisper for them to rest. I can sever the bonds between them and the voice that commands them.

  Her eyes fixed upon the dark spiral that protruded above the mountains. The Fractured City.

  Eight hundred wolves intended to enter the city. Fully decked in armor. The witches protected.

  And now her, with this cursed power.

  She’d need to talk to her father later. Reassure him, persuade him of Vrin’s good intentions. Tell him she liked Vrin. She needed him.

  Maybe later. Yawning, she let go of V
rin’s hand, gave him a quick kiss upon the lips and a hug. “I’m going back in.”

  “Good luck surviving in there,” he replied with a grin, walking with her side by side into the council room.

  The End

  Erlandur’s Rescue

  Guardians of Lunar Wasteland

  (Book 4)

  Chapter One

  Faith came from the central plains, in the region known as Ghost Lake. Thermal springs that bubbled under the surface of their home made sure that the lakes stayed unfrozen, and life thrived in the strange oasis of her home.

  Or, as much as it did thrive, from the Shadows that picked them off from the fringes, and the constant howling elements of their world. Ghost Lake, second to the Fractured Spine, was a region that suffered the most from Shadow activity. Possibly because of the thermal springs counteracting the Shadow’s weakness. Possibly because their witches today were living descendants of the thousand that sacrificed their lives so long ago.

  And now, well – Faith was a long way from home. She scratched at her short dark hair, before idly playing with one of her twin blades, watching the sparring matches going on between the different wolf clans and some of the witches, eager to test their magic out. Raine, that peculiar enchanter, with a small wave of volunteers, was fitting armor onto a werewolf who had chosen to permanently take on their animal form for the war. Yarrow, the Shadow witch, stared into the cloud covered sky with a dull, unimpressed look upon her face, her blackened veins in clear display.

  “Gloomy, isn’t she?” Geraline sat down beside her fellow witch, offering a slice of bread for Faith to chew. Faith accepted and munched through it, still roving around the fort city, taking in the commotion and activity of the Spine wolves.

  “She has a right to be,” Faith replied. “The Dreadwood have a hatred deeper than the rest of us combined for the Shadows. Now she has to learn to use their power.”

  “It’s an advantage, though.” Geraline frowned, wrinkling her button nose.

  “Is it? Seems pretty miserable to me.” Faith snatched her attention away from the brooding witch, staring instead at the sparrers. How she longed to go down there and spar as well – to feel her body react to the magic coursing through her blood, and to beat anyone who dared face her. Except, well, no one could provide even the slightest hint of a challenge to her. She’d lost most of the excitement of battle a long time ago. When you sensed and predicted your opponent’s moves before they executed them, it always felt to her that everyone else fought in slow motion, drunk and useless.