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

by Lisa Daniels

  Jalron stepped up beside her on the windy rock, wrapping himself warmer to protect against the blasts of cold.

  “I see you out here more often than not,” he said, staring at her with amber eyes, like all others born upon the Crescent Island. “Who do you wait for? We’re all curious to know.”

  Kell shook her head, squinting over the icy tundra. “I’m waiting for our shadow knight to return.”

  Her companion sighed. “Child, he already has what he came for. There is nothing else we can offer. That armor belonged to the Cursed’s Queen’s knight. It was our most sacred treasure.”

  Kell shook her head. “He might attempt the ritual again.”

  “Unlikely. If you fail the first one, you’ll fail the rest. He has already shown he is not fit to be of the blessed race.”

  Kell tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear. “They’re coming. I feel it. Helena will be back.”

  Jalron hissed. “She is not welcome. We do not suffer her kind upon where the Gods walk. Come, child. You’ll only be cold here. Attend to your duties.”

  Duties, Kell thought. Things we do to stop ourselves going snow-blind and mad. She picked herself up and followed Jalron back through the woods. The glimmers of spirits flickered their hazy blue nimbus as they paced the woods. Some were shaped like wolves, waiting for a worthy body to infuse themselves into, to begin the blessed bloodline. Others drifted, faint wisps upon the wind, the last memories of their ancestors who were buried in their thousands upon the island. One of the living wolves crossed their path as they walked, a huge mountain of a beast with spirit blue eyes, stopping to watch them pass, before continuing on his way.

  We walk among the Gods, Kell thought, but they pay us no heed. Some islanders tended to the main cemeteries that extended over large, flat patches of carefully cleared ground. Stones with markers and sculptures hovered over the most important of their ancestors, werewolves and humans alike. There were many more, of course. All the seers did nowadays was tend to the memory of the ancestors, and pass on the tales to any werewolves or witches, curious to know some of the lost history of their world.

  Like Erlandur and Helena. Helena. The one Shadow who did not suffer the wrath of the spirits. The spirits left her alone, something unheard of in their history. Normally, any Shadow within setting foot upon the island would be devoured by the myriad spirits that infused the sacred earth.

  She told Jalron to keep walking, she’d return to the town shortly. He agreed and went his way, shuffling through the evergreen trees and the crackle of pine and crunch of snow.

  Something prickled at her senses. Her intuition never steered her wrong, and it told her now to head towards the south, to the place where she once watched Erlandur’s expedition leave, hoping to return to the rebel faction outside the Fractured City, with him donning the knight’s armour.

  She paced over, allowing the pull of her magic to bring her forward. She walked past trees with crystalline patterns in them, the familiar blue glow of a place filled with spirit energy. The Crescent Island was most beautiful at night, and since the night lasted a long time, it meant their Island was always shining.

  When Kell finally made it through the sapphire woods, she almost walked straight into a white and silver furred werewolf.

  The wolf growled, hackles rising, and Kell recognized it instantly as a member of the Spine clan. A fine specimen – the spirits were already sniffing at him, enjoying his company.

  And if there was a member of the Spine clan here, then surely…

  Behind the growling wolf came five other people – and Kell gasped. Three Shadow tainted humans. Kell examined each of them in morbid fascination. Behind the three witches followed Erlandur at last, returned to them after so long, and the Supreme known as Helena. The spirits probed at her cautiously, along with the other Shadow incarnate.

  “Oh,” the Shadow human said. “This one looks normal. I thought you said this island was for caretakers?”

  “They live their lives here,” Helena answered, patting the speaker upon their shoulder. “They have to pass their legacy somehow. Not everyone gets to be immortal. I recognize you, actually,” Helena said, squinting at Kell. “Cal or something?”

  “Kell.”

  Introductions floated around. The white, silvery wolf held the name of Loras. His lips no longer curled upward, and the hint of threat vanished. Erlandur and Helena aside, the two witches fascinated Kell. Immediately she asked for their abilities, wanting to know the kinds of magic they practised in the wastelands.

  “I’m a combat witch,” Faith said, holding her head up high.

  “Wow,” Kell replied. “I always wanted to be one. They’re the best.”

  “Don’t make her head too big,” Erlandur murmured, removing his visor to reveal a wry face. “Her clan’s glorified her since she returned to the Spine and told them about the Supreme she killed.”

  “Really? A Supreme? How?”

  “Blasts,” Erlandur said, as Faith preened herself, beaming widely.

  “I’m not useless myself,” Yarrow said, coughing. “Given that I can tell Shadows to go and kill themselves. I used to be a lightning witch,” she added to Kell, then tapped her head, “before I became this. Gotta use what we can, right?”

  “We have some strange talents here, it seems,” Kell said. “My clan people believe the stars have foretold your arrival.”

  “Ah yes. Your stars,” Helena said, her voice flat. She examined one blue wisp floating in front of her. She reached out a tainted hand to touch it, and it curled around her hand.

  Whoever this Helena was, she meant something big in the spirit world.

  “What about you, Echo?” Kell smiled at the smallest woman of all, who had a strange, dark expression on her face.

  “I create a monster.” She demonstrated, letting a huge, dark form whirl out of her fingers. Blue eyes glowed from its fluctuating, amorphous shape. The wisps went crazy around it, not devouring, not attacking, just spinning around in orbit, aggravated or fascinated. Kell could never quite tell which.

  Kell let a fragment of her own magic guide her, the magic that told her that all of these people were important, all of them had parts to play. She also demonstrated the physical side of her magic by cheerfully elevating the werewolf, Loras, who stared at her with bug eyes, clearly unimpressed at what she was doing to him. With the levitation came the headache, followed by peals of laughter from the other women.

  “He’s not impressed, is he?” Echo walked underneath him, amused as he snapped, apparently in a foul mood.

  “He’s already been carried across the tundra with Monster,” Echo said. “I think he’s fed up of magic messing him around.”

  “Shame.” Kell yawned. “It’s so rare we see werewolves from the inland, though. Just the occasional pilgrim seekers who are looking for the whole history experience.”

  “What are these, though?” Yarrow pointed at the blue wisps, then gaped as a blue-eyed wolf spirit stepped into view. “What is that?”

  Kell afforded her an enigmatic smile. “The werewolves had to come from somewhere, right?”

  She noticed how Erlandur and Helena exchanged glances. Something about Helena, even if the wisps left her alone, unnerved Kell. Still, she kept up jovial conversation, and led the small group back to the town.

  It seemed Erlandur had succeeded in gathering his army. Combined with the underbelly rebellion, their numbers reached around twenty-three thousand. Impressive, except the Shadows had four or more times their numbers.

  At the behest of the werewolf, Loras, Kell led him to one of the cemeteries, allowing Helena and the witches to make their introductions to the town elders.

  “Sorry about earlier,” Kell said, smiling at the werewolf, who in human form, looked rather striking. Aside from the usual yellow eyes, he was also tall, with refined, sharp features, with the usual dark hair colors of the northern people. “It’s not so often I get a chance to show off.”

  “I can imagine
,” Loras said, kneeling beside her to examine one of the gravestones, and the beautifully tended patches of blue-green mossgrass, which had survived the colds of the north. “Have you lived here all your life?”

  “Most of it,” Kell said. Although she tried keeping up her friendly attitude, something quavered. A little pang of jealously hit, thinking about the exciting lives the werewolves led. The fight Erlandur and Helena so painstakingly organized to try and beat the Shadows before they extended their influence south, ravaging the world. “I’ve been to the resting place of the first wolf in the Fractured Spine as well. I’ve sometimes gone inland, but not for long. Usually the best thing to happen is when we get visitors. Then our purpose is realized again, and we can show you our home.”

  “Hmm.” Loras examined Kell for a long time. He then reached over a hand to cup her chin, making her freeze in shock. “What a strange eye color you have. It’s almost purple right now.”

  Kell flushed red, self-conscious because of his sudden scrutiny. “That would be because of the blue. It changes them from their usual amber.” Her heart twitched a little faster. Truth be told, ever since her initiation ceremony a while back, with the pure form of a wolf spirit – Crescent Islanders got to unlock their magic in a simpler and less intimate way than inlanders. Kell didn’t exactly have much experience with relationships. People found her odd.

  Loras lightly trailed his fingers away from her. A teasing smirk pierced his lips, and her eyes followed the motion. The werewolf then took the time to check her over, deliberately lingering over her body, undressing her with his eyes. “You’re pretty. Perhaps when we’ve finished some of our business here, we could get to know one another…?”

  Oh my, Kell thought. He wasn’t exactly hiding his intentions, was he? Not that she minded. Her few forays into the wonderful and delightful world of sex left her with human lovers, ones more obsessed with watching the stars and trying to figure out signs or protecting their Island from the Shadows, and boasting about how much historical knowledge they contained, than in delivering excitement in bed.

  She’d never tried it on with a werewolf, before. Loras’s yellow eyes gleamed in lust, and he allowed his hands to trail over her arm, sniffing appreciatively at her scent. She flipped her lustrous hair, standing tall and proud, happy to receive the attention. Echo noticed the interaction with sly, calculative eyes. Helena seemed unbothered.

  In fact, the ones most alarmed by the interactions were the people of the Island town, wary of the outsiders.

  Most of the negative reactions came because of Helena and the two tainted witches.

  “How are they not being killed?” Arno, one of the gravekeepers, scowled and folded his arms as the procession passed.

  “Because they’re about to make history,” Kell replied simply, infuriating him with her trademark enigmatic smile. Not that she knew the history they planned, but they obviously were all here for a reason.

  Loras stepped beside her, maintaining his human form, admiring the simple town, the rustic huts all made out of stone or hardwood, all designed for a life on an abundant island that provided for their every need. A farmer herded goats through the main cobbled square, and another walked along, carrying a cage with three chickens clustered inside it.

  Kell showed them to their guest quarters first, an empty section of town reserved for the travelers they expected to see visit the Island over their lifetimes. A maid swooped around the premises, quickly dusting off the worst of the mess and helping to pile some logs on the fireplace to provide them with warmth later on, and rest.

  Kell then left the group with the elder council, knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to eavesdrop, but not before Loras seized her arm.

  “If you’re interested, Kell, you obviously know where I am. Am I wrong to think you’re interested?”

  Her heart lurched. She shivered slightly, and not from the cold outside. Intuition told her that she’d be a fool to refuse Loras. But if she did, then her life would be in danger, intertwining deeply with a werewolf. They led active lives.

  Where Loras planned to go, not many people would survive.

  “You’re not wrong, werewolf. I do want to know you… further.”

  He smiled, before striding off, his words lingering in her ears. “I’ll be waiting.”

  The red skies above them had by now turned to sheer darkness, leaving the Island in an ethereal blue glow, from the trees and the spirits.

  Sometimes, they tried to whisper to her, but Kell rarely understood the words they uttered.

  A wash of cold drenched her bones when she entered the graveyard where her grandparents were buried, stepping over the blue moss that coated the otherwise frozen ground.

  Her intuition gave a sense of unease, and a wave of distress and screams, though she didn’t understand the source.

  It wasn’t uncommon to be hit by the aura of the baleful dead, but this time, Kell wondered if it had anything to do with the newcomers. If they had brought the danger to her doorstep, disturbing the peace of over a thousand years.

  She shut out the screams, and left the graveyard to warm up in her home, and eat.

  Chapter Two

  The secret lay on Loras’s lips. He knew the true plan of why they had come to the Crescent Island, though he needed to dredge it out of Erlandur and Helena. Those two ran the show. Even after their trip back to the Spine, thanks to the cursed magic of Echo, and the long expedition with their army, before splitting it out so the Shadows would not notice the amassing of forces disappearing just outside their city, Helena insisted on making it to the Crescent Island.

  She insisted on taking the Shadow witches – one who could control Shadows, and one who got ignored by them.

  Loras wasn’t stupid. He knew they were up to something. Had to be, if you planned to take a slight detour and leave your army to potentially be picked apart if it got discovered, or to have the Crescent Island expedition slaughtered before they made it halfway across the ice.

  We may be committing the greatest plan of our careers, or the greatest travesty the world has ever known.

  He shivered. None of the Islanders seemed to suspect, even with their lofty ability to read stars. The elders kept going on about it, with the signs in the stars, the messages scrawled across the skies.

  Loras highly doubted the Moon God would paste her plans across the sky for anyone to read. Her plans went in the individuals she watched over.

  To think he actually agreed to such a heinous notion. Seeing the number of Shadows, though, sobered up his automatic distaste. Comprehending that even with their strongest forces, with the biggest army the north had raised in centuries, they were still outnumbered five to one.

  If only the Islanders knew. He considered Kell, the dark-haired woman with those peculiar amber eyes, those long eyelashes, and the salacious curve of her hips, even under those robes. She had a way of staring into a soul with just a glance, a lovely twist to her lips that did strange things to his heart, and stirred the lust in his groin.

  He suspected once the Plan had been enacted, he’d lose his window of opportunity with Kell.

  It saddened him, in a way. It might have been nice to have the Island as a destination point, to visit his lover upon the side.

  Lover. He waited now, in his quarters, to see if the Island witch would appear. Tiredness tugged at his mind.

  Eventually, he needed to conclude she might not be coming. He watched Echo and Faith talking, and Yarrow staring into nothing, likely dealing with the invasive voice in her head, before leaping to his feet as a knock sounded upon the door.

  Grinning in triumph, Loras vaulted to the door, before composing himself. He opened it, and saw Kell there, eyes wide and nervous, instead of dignified and transcendent like earlier.

  “Come in,” he growled, and her lips quirked upwards, before she walked past him, fingers brushing his chest.

  Arousal flared in his groin, igniting his brain and making his blood boil. She smelled intoxicating. He
r nervousness added to the flavor. Loras slammed the door and locked it, before grabbing her from behind, burying his mouth into her neck. When he peeled off her fur coat, he admired the skin that revealed itself beneath, and the tightly fitting garment that showed premeditation for the act about to occur. His erection twitched higher, thicker, pressing into her pants. She melted into him, tilting her head back. Her skin was so soft. So delicious. He buried his head into her neck, nibbling at the tender flesh, inhaling the distinctive musky scent of her, determined to make her his in every way.

  When he heard her gasp, he smiled. He wanted to hear more of those, to make her melt in his arms, to die of pleasure when he had his way. He needed to lose himself for just one night, to take a break from the atrocity they planned to commit, and the friends he’d likely lose when they began their assault on the Fractured City.

  With a growl, he flung Kell onto the bed, and her long hair splayed out behind her like flowing water. Her eyes hazed over in lust, and she reached for him, wanting him close to her body. His muscles rippled, and his strong arms landed on either side of her as he observed her need, smelled her arousal, and teased her by rubbing his erection against her pants. He forced her out of the rest of her clothing, jolts sizzling through him every time she gasped and moaned in that sultry, low voice of hers. He saw faint disappointment in her eyes when he stripped her naked but kept his clothes on, so he pulled everything off, before crushing their chests together, allowing their skins to glide into one another, to feel the tactile stirring of the hairs on their bodies and the tickle of their fingers.

  Beautiful, he thought, kissing at her ear, nose half buried into her dark hair, enjoying the sensation of her heaving chest against his. The breasts provided a wonderful cushion, too, soft and pliable as he rocked back and forth over her, still teasing with his erection, before finally shifting himself low enough to move inside her wet core.

  He gasped as she spread her legs wider and clung to him, moaning, revelling in the tight, glorious feel of her, the glide of her body, the way her eyes rolled completely back, and her spine arched, bringing her closer to him, adjusting the angle so he reached where he suspected her g-spot to be.