Dances With My Dragon

by William David Ellis

  He had actually been shocked that they had failed. They had been armed with silver bullets and warded by dark spells. According to the eyewitness reports he had stolen from the French police, Belle and her friend had made quick work of them. But it would not happen again… the team he would send next time would be his best. The trap would be unexpected. And the sweet results his beloved doctor would get for him would make his dark friends very happy.

  He pressed the button on the intercom. “Send in Fraulein Rodum.”

  ****

  As soon as Belle walked into Hermann Göring’s office, she was aware he had been conferring with a dark spirit. She could smell it. Most humans did not realize that certain demons had a scent. But her bloodlines were not completely human, and her nose was as tuned to the supernatural as any part of her. The smell of old sweat, putrid, foul, almost caused her to wrinkle her nose. But she stopped the reflex, knowing Göring would pick up on it and wonder why. She also caught herself comparing the odor of dead meat and sweat to the clean scent that surrounded Harry. Even when he was filthy and covered with the blood of the monsters he had slain, there was still an unsoiled fragrance around him. She wondered why she had never realized that till this moment.

  Her thoughts shielded her from the fear Göring was assaulting her with. He had brought huge and evil sadistic killers to their knees with his ability to cast coercion spells. But Belle was unfazed; it was like she didn’t even notice the fiery darts he had slung at her. His eyebrows rose, and this time Belle did notice. I’ve disturbed him. He is struggling to keep appearances up.

  She quickly saluted, trying to break Göring’s concentration and assure him he was in charge. A fearful Nazi was a dangerous one.

  The trick worked. Göring acknowledged her salute. He did not offer her a chair but let her stand. He stared at her for a few more awkward seconds and then began.

  “You are wondering why I sent a team of assassins to kill you, are you not, Fraulein Rodum?” The arrogance in Göring’s voice dripped. He thought acknowledging his actions would unnerve her. Belle realized that and acted the part. Her mouth dropped open for just an instant and she blinked; a slight shiver slid through her body. Göring noted it and smirked.

  “You cannot hide anything from me, Belle.” He laughed, confident he had her where he wanted her. “So why do you think I sent that team?”

  Belle feigned fear, allowing her voice to tremble. “I have no idea, Marshal Göring.”

  “Really, Belle? Is not the name Harry Ferguson familiar to you?”

  This time Belle did shudder. Sweat beaded across her forehead. Göring’s smirk deepened.

  “You did not ask permission for a clandestine meeting with one of Churchill’s most formidable agents. How was I to know you were not betraying the Reich and me? Were you betraying me, Belle Rodum?” Göring had stood up and begun to slowly walk around Belle, stopping right before her as he asked the last question. He noted the sweat on her brow and her flushed cheeks.

  She looked him right in the eyes and replied, “Should I, Marshal Göring? I am not only your agent, but I also report directly to the Führer.”

  This time Göring stepped back, gulping unconsciously. And Belle knew she had him. She did not allow him to see her relief. She didn’t want him to think he had lost control of the interrogation.

  Göring replied, “Of course you are, my dear, you are the Führer’s pet witch. But you still need to explain your actions. For even pets can sometimes forget who feeds them.” Göring turned his back on her and returned to his seat. Belle snuck in a quick cleansing breath. By the time Göring faced her again, she was in complete control. She waited, not volunteering any information. She did not know exactly what the marshal wanted and knew better than to share information and supply her rivals with things they had not known.

  Göring frowned; he sensed the climate had changed but was not sure why. He breathed deeply, acknowledging Belle was no longer intimidated, and proceeded with the questioning.

  “Why were you meeting with Harry Ferguson in Paris?”

  Belle answered quickly, “I was not aware that we were at war with England and that having dinner with an Englishman was a crime.” Then she added, “And besides that, he asked me.”

  “Hmmm.” Göring’s head tilted and he proceeded with the dance. “Are you aware that he works for Churchill and is part of the group called the hunters?”

  Her reply surprised Göring. “Yes, I am.”

  “And you still chose to have dinner with him?”

  “Yes, I did. My intention was to press him for information.”

  “Were you successful in that endeavor?”

  Belle thought about her last intimate conversation with Harry and how his lips had felt on hers. A smile crossed her face. “Yes, sir, I was.”

  Göring’s impatience was growing. “And?!”

  “He is an extremely dangerous and powerful enemy, sir. He is also honorable. He saved my life and then he looked out for me in a French hospital. I was totally at his mercy and he did not take advantage. I do not think he even reported to his own commanders.”

  “Really?” Göring was surprised and his voice showed it. He relaxed a bit and leaned back in his chair, continuing to stare at Belle. “Do you think you can turn him, Belle Rodum?”

  Belle had not been expecting that question and it set her back. She took a deep breath, thought for a few seconds, and then laughed. “No, sir, I cannot turn him. He would never willfully betray anyone he is loyal to. He doesn’t have it in him.”

  Göring saw the respect Belle had for the Englishman. His face grew hard; his eyebrows came together as he suddenly recognized something that had been gnawing at him ever since she entered the room. Belle Rodum had been stripped of her escorts—but not her powers! He had assumed one meant the other, but it was not the case. She was still a witch by blood, but whom she served was in the balance. And that could not be allowed. Göring knew the difference between a witch and a prophet was whom they served. Belle Rodum had been dramatically exposed to the Light, in a way that if not addressed soon would leave her vulnerable to further exposure and the real danger of losing her completely. He had never heard of a witch turning, but for everything, there was a first time.

  He didn’t know a witch could be stripped of her dark companions, but the proof was right before his eyes. He had two problems. One, Ferguson the hunter, and two, and probably more important, losing Belle to the Light. If he had to, he would kill her. The hunter would definitely be executed, after interrogation and torture, of course. He didn’t need any information from the hunter because all he needed was provided through the spy they had in Churchill’s organization. So more torture than interrogation, and in the process he had to get Belle back to the darkness… so this trap would be set for both of them! Göring couldn’t stop the twinkle from appearing in his dark eyes. Belle noticed it and, because she was not assisted by her dark escorts, misinterpreted it.

  “Then we have no other choice,” he continued. “Harry Ferguson must be captured and interrogated, and then when we have wrung him dry, we will kill him. I will give you that honor. As a matter of fact, you will be the bait in my trap. I have other sources that tell me he likes you, and I know you are not capable of returning that or any other human affection, so you shouldn’t have any problems enticing Harry Ferguson. Do you have any problems with it, Belle?”

  Belle looked straight into Hermann Göring’s eyes and lied, “No, sir, I do not.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Oh…” Sarah bowed her head into her hands and shook. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do…”

  Liv was quiet for a moment, then asked, “What does your heart tell you, Sarah?”

  “That’s the problem, Liv. I love them both… I can’t believe I said that… but it’s true… I love… Kusaila… and I love Harry… I actually have more in common with Kusaila, but Harry rescued me and literally laid down his life for me… and I betrayed him
.”

  “Guilt is not a substitute for love, Sarah. Neither is honor or obligation. You have made no covenants with Harry or Kusaila. Once you do, then you are bound by those oaths regardless of your feelings, but you have not done that yet. You are free to choose.”

  “But what about the King’s promise to Harry… Harry told me that the King had promised him that he and I would be together forever. How can I betray that?”

  “Sarah!” Sarah could hear the scold in Liv’s voice and knew if the book had hands they would be on its hips. “You, my dear, are not the keeper of the King’s promises. That is between him and Harry. He told you that you were free. Walk in that freedom.”

  “I don’t want to hurt either one of them… they both seem to need me. Oh, Liv, what do I do?!”

  “Sarah, when you need to know, you will. For now, walk day by day. Let’s see what happens. I have every reason to believe that time will clarify matters. Trust me on this, Sarah.”

  Sarah nodded, wiping away her tears. Then she heard a voice at her tent’s door.

  “Sarah? Sarah? May I come in?”

  “Of course, Kusaila, come in.”

  Suddenly several long, low blasts of rams’ horns rang through the early morning, one after the other, shattering the first light’s calm. Kusaila grimaced, looked back in the direction of the horns, then back at Sarah and said, “Not now but after!” then raced out the door.

  Sarah’s eyebrows furrowed. Why had the horns sounded? Where did Kusaila run off to? “What’s going on, Liv?” she demanded.

  “We are under attack, Sarah. You need to shift and get prepared to do battle. Kusaila and his people need you.”

  “Attack?” Sarah screeched as she blew through the door and shifted. She felt the power of her dragon self wrap around her just as her princess screech turned into a dragon roar.

  Liv shot out the answers to her questions. “Run toward the horns, Sarah! Quickly! Kusaila will be gathering his warriors.”

  Sarah vaulted into the sky and tore through it toward the noise of the horns. As she gained altitude and looked at the edges of the camp, she saw it had been assaulted from three sides. She caught her breath as she saw how many warriors the enemy had gathered and wondered how they had been able to hide from Kusaila’s scouts.

  As she flew upward searching for Kusaila, she heard the familiar sound of a dragon’s roar and smelt the sulphuric fumes of dragon flame. Terror grasped her heart as she saw three large dragons bearing down on Kusaila’s warriors, ripping and burning them with claws and spray. She was about to scream a ferocious challenge, anger causing her body to tremble, driving her forward. How dare they attack her people! She raced toward her enemies, claws out, flame prepared. Without warning, her head was yanked back, abruptly causing her to twist in midair. “No, Sarah! It will do you or your people no good for your anger to lead you to your death! Remember what I have taught you.” Liv’s calm voice echoed in her mind. “Get between your adversary and the sun; when they are blinded by its glare, dive on them. Now hurry. Higher eastward, quiet!”

  After moments that seemed to last days, gaining altitude, Liv’s calm voice continued, “That’s good enough, Sarah; now race toward the closest one but do not roar until you are tearing into it. Quickly now.”

  Sarah stopped her upward flight, tucked her wings in close to her body, and then like a high diver tucked and dove on the dark dragons beneath her. Fear’s bitter gall rose in her, making her nauseous. She stuffed the bile down her throat. Her razor-sharp claws unsheathed like a giant lioness. The dark green dragon in her sights drew closer and closer. One hundred yards, seventy-five, fifty yards…

  She heard Liv’s voice say, “Don’t stare right at it, Sarah, it will sense your attack!” Just as the words entered Sarah’s head, the giant beast turned and stared back toward her, its eyes wide and white as terror seized it.

  It was too late. Sarah slammed into its neck and bit down. Her claws wrapped around its throat and cut deep. A strangled gurgle erupted from the doomed dragon. With a fierce twist, Sarah tore the beast’s head from its long neck. Blood shot out from the wound, spraying her with fire-hydrant fury, blinding her for the briefest of seconds. She lurched and twisted, rapidly falling, desperately wiping her eyes with the back of her claw. Everything smelled like blood. She was covered in it and the overwhelming stench filled her sensitive nose with the sickening smell of death. She gagged and spit furiously, trying to be rid of the horrible taste. Liv reprimanded her, “No time for that now, Sarah. Swallow and be done with it!

  “Well done, Sarah. You took out the dragon leader. The others are smaller and now they are afraid. Kusaila is battling one and you have to engage the other… dive, Sarah!” Instantaneous dragon reactions kicked in, a credit to hours of training Liv had inflicted on her. She heard the swish of wind as she dove on the next dragon. At the last second it darted out of her way. Her talons struck but clawed only air as her dive thrust her past. Sarah’s wings spread, braking her back toward her prey, but she was late and felt the crush of her enemy’s blow as the backlash of a large dragon tail bit into her flank.

  Pain swept through her, radiating from the blow.

  But Sarah literally had eyes in the back of her head. Liv was a second pair of eyes with centuries of combat experience. “I’ve cut off the blood that was streaming from your wound. You will live. But now you must deceive,” Liv shouted. “She thinks she’s hurt you and is going to try and attack from your wounded side. Act like you are hurting worse than you are. Draw her in.”

  Sarah watched as her nemesis flew back around. Listening intently to Liv’s words, she slowed the beat of her wings, acting like she could barely keep aloft. The dragon saw her condition and swooped in slower than she should have, intent on making a killing blow with her sharp claws, breaking Sarah’s back with a slicing movement. She drew closer and closer. Sarah could feel the heat from the beast’s dark flames; she could smell the burned flesh that still held to her enemy’s claws, the flesh of Sarah’s people.

  “Hold on, Sarah, not yet, wait… get ready… wait…”

  The enemy drew closer, hovering right above Sarah. Sarah’s head drooped, and her wings struggled with great effort, barely keeping her in the air. An angry, arrogant smirk lit on her adversary’s face as it drew its claws up, preparing to crush Sarah beneath them. As the bloody claws were about to strike, Liv shouted, “Now, Sarah!”

  Sarah’s barbed tail, which had hung limp, slammed into the exposed chest of the stunned enemy, crushing its heart. An expression of shock and offense crossed the face of the serpent. Then it threw back its head and flipped backward, its body limp, and began the long fall from the sky. Sarah watched for a moment but was called from her trance by Liv’s quiet voice. “Can’t stop now, Sarah… we own the skies now. It is time to use them to our advantage. Dive and spray, Sarah, dive and spray!”

  Torrents of flame broke from Sarah’s mouth as she fell on the warriors who had attacked her people. She burned and tore and slammed into their ranks, crushing, devouring, and scorching. She had no time for remorse. No time to consider the lives she was taking. She was simply a killing machine. Finally, she heard a strange horn, one she knew was not of Kusaila’s people. The horde began to withdraw. Broken and beaten back, but still so many of them. She had killed hundreds. Kusaila had destroyed thousands more; whole brigades of warriors had fallen beneath his claws. His people had rallied on their leader and formed an impenetrable wall and then slowly extended that wall against the onslaught of their attackers. Sarah looked down on the battlefield and gasped.

  The numbness of her emotional shields draining away, her dragon sight saw the writhing of the wounded, her dragon ears heard the cries of the maimed, she smelled the sickening sweet mix of blood and burned flesh. She felt her stomach revolt against the sight as her humanity reasserted itself. All she wanted to do was flee. She wanted to be clean, to be whole, to never see what she had just seen or do what she had just done again. A hundred shades of guilt,
both survivors’ and murderers’ guilt, accompanied by condemnation for the bloodlust that had gripped her, crashed into her heart, causing her to literally sag, weakness resonating throughout her body. She shook as she hovered over the battlefield, sick at heart for her part in it.

  A small voice kept saying she had no choice. They attacked you. They killed your people. Your families, your children. Sarah knew with her head the voice was right, but with her heart, she was sickened.

  She heard the beat of large wings behind her and turned quickly to see Kusaila’s large black dragon body hovering. “Come with me, Sarah.”

  She nodded and flew alongside him. He headed out toward the sea. Sarah was too tired to care where they went but soon could not help but notice dark clouds were drawing near. Rain clouds.

  Kusaila flew straight into them, Sarah right behind him. The cold winds beat against her body, the rain pummeling with a thousand little stings as she swept through it. Clouds around her flashed, lightning slamming against the flimsy bars of windy vapors. The sky was breaking in fire and wind and cold rain. It broke across her body, sweeping the blood stains away. The wound in her flank stung from the ice water that rushed across it. But the pain was lost in the glory of the crashing sky. Jagged bolts filled the firmaments with cleansing flashes of glory. The radiance of heavenly fire surrounded them. Sarah watched as Kusaila dove right into the heart of a flashing cloud and gasped as the lightning struck him. He roared in ecstasy, mixing his own thunder with that of the storm. Suddenly she realized dragons do not fear lightning; they were born in it. She laughed and joined him, breathing in the cleansing ozone and delighting in the cold tingles and hot streaks of crackling electricity. Sarah tilted her neck back and closed her eyes, allowing the rain to flow down her cheeks. She was not aware that it mixed with her tears, only that the blood and ash were being washed away.