Dragon Wars

by Carina Wilder

  Perhaps Merriman was right: even the most noble of men was corruptible.

  It wasn’t long before the door at the end of the prison’s hallways creaked open, allowing torchlight to enter the dark passageway.

  Soon after, a form made its way through and the door shut again. Lily heard it locking.

  She smelled Conor before she saw him. Too bad his scent was so delicious because she wanted to slap him; it didn’t help that she also wanted to tear his clothing off.

  “Lilliana,” he said softly as he approached.

  “Conor.” Her voice had icicles hanging from it. “What are you doing? Are you really this weak?”

  He stopped in front of her, standing just the other side of the bars.

  Do you hear me? he asked without moving his lips.

  Lily felt her heart calm down; in the last minutes it had been taken over by her dragon, who had been growing increasingly agitated inside her. But now his mind was opening to her at last, and perhaps she would get some answers.

  Yes, she said.

  “I asked you a question,” she said aloud, forcing an enraged hue into her words.

  “You are not welcome here. You should have known better than to come,” he replied, loudly enough so that anyone standing guard in the hallway would hear.

  Listen to me closely, he said. These shifters are no mind readers, and this is the only way that we can speak safely. I need to maintain this façade, at least for a little. But I’ll protect you, of course. I’ve already told the guards that no one enters the prison but me, so you have the place to yourself, at least.

  Well, that’s good news, she replied. Do you think that maybe I could have a nice canopy bed and some flowers? This place isn’t exactly the Ritz Carlton. Also, if you ever grab my arm like that again, it had better be followed by sex.

  Conor’s dimples made a brief appearance as he smiled. I’m sorry, my lovely fire breather. And I promise that I will always follow up with sex, whenever possible. And I’ll do what I can to keep you comfortable. And I’ll visit as frequently as I can without arousing suspicion. I’ll tell the men that I’m attempting to extract answers from you. Needless to say, it’s easier to get answers when you’re naked…

  But if we get caught…

  We won’t. We’ll be careful.

  Prison sex? Kinky. Lily came close to laughing but stopped herself.

  Conor approached and wrapped his fingers around the bars that caged his lover.

  I have learned a thing or two since we last saw one another.

  Oh? she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Not about sex, you saucy little dragon. Your gifts…I thought they were yours alone, but I have developed a little talent of my own.

  Show me, she said.

  A moment later, faster than a blink of the eye, he’d shifted through space and was standing next to her inside the cell, his hands going immediately to her soft waist, pulling her towards him. Her eyes veered to the iron door to her cage, which was still shut and locked.

  Now that’s something useful, she said.

  “Useful? Anything that brings me closer to you is far more than useful,” he said out loud before lifting her chin to kiss her neck. “Anything that allows me to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection. You always seem to forget that. “

  “I don’t forget. But I like doing it nevertheless. You are a rare treasure, and I would do anything to preserve you perfectly intact as you are.”

  “You’re sounding like a dragon with talk of treasure, Conor. Not so much a Beorn.”

  “Bears are entitled to their booty too,” he said, a smile in his eyes.

  “So you’re saying this is a booty call?” Lily laughed this time, before cupping a hand over her mouth.

  “Don’t you dare cover that mouth,” said Conor. “I need it.” He kissed her then, his tongue easing towards hers slowly, savouring the moment as he tasted her at last. Somehow, traveling across centuries had caused a sort of time rift that made the experience feel new all over again. “I have been afraid of losing you, my Lilliana.”

  “No, you’ll never lose me. For good or otherwise,” she said. “I do wish I could take you away from here, though. I’ve been so worried.”

  “Don’t worry. I will do everything I can to preserve our bond. It seems that I have duties here—ones I don’t want to fulfill, of course. But if I don’t, someone else will.”

  “I know,” she said. “I know all about it. Those visions that we spoke of—they’ve become clearer as well. I saw the man you met with and I know what he—and you—are, Conor.”

  He backed away, watching her face for signs of disgust. But there was no such expression as she moved towards him and took his hand in hers.

  “You could be anything. Anything. A snake, a turtle, a snail, a stinging ant. And I would still…”

  Her eyes went cloudy, veiled with hot tears as she tried to express the word.

  “Really, my Lilliana? Even knowing what I am, you accept me?”

  “Of course,” she said. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Taking her in his arms, he enveloped her tightly, squeezing her body to his so that she felt as though a rib might give way. This was the embrace of relief, of a man who’d been carrying a massive burden and was only now managing to free himself of its weight.

  “Careful there, big bear,” she laughed as she escaped his clutches. “You’re stronger than you know.”

  Conor laughed, putting his hands up in surrender to show that he meant no harm. “I’ve felt nothing but weak for the last hours…days…whatever it’s been. I have no idea. It feels like centuries since I last saw you.”

  “It was,” said Lily. “Centuries. But I’m here now. And I feel like I need to break you out of this prison. I mean, what do they want with you?”

  “They want me to lead them to victory against the dragons. Against Graeme.”

  “But…that’s suicide. I know our kind. You can’t take them. The painting…”

  “Painting?”

  “I saw a work of art that depicted the battle that you’re supposed to fight. I don’t care how enormous your bear is. You can’t take on dragons.”

  “No. You’re probably right. It would seem that I’m meant to lose this fight.”

  Lily put a hand on his cheek. “The man in the painting—the bear, rather—he was you, Conor. And yet he wasn’t. He was a warrior. But you’re my mate. I don’t know how this happened—how we all came to be here, divided as we are. But I won’t let anything happen to you or to Graeme.”

  “My hero,” he laughed, placing his hand over hers. “Heroine, rather. How to you intend to fix this situation of ours?”

  “The Stranieri and the Dragon Lords are fighting for what they think is right: each trying to prevent the other gaining dominance. The dragons don’t want your kind to end them. And you don’t want to wind up cut off from breeding descendants.”

  “All true.”

  “Perhaps there’s a way to make them come together.”

  “Something tells me you have a plan in place,” Conor replied.

  “I have thoughts. I have no weapons; only my own meagre abilities,” said Lily. “But you and Graeme are powerful. You with your ability to read the minds of others, and he with his ability to control objects and people—shifters, even.”

  “I wish I could tell you that I see where you’re going with this, but I don’t.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know either. I’m as lost as you, and here I am, locked in a cell from which I don’t even particularly want to escape.”

  “Whatever you do, Lilliana, I can’t risk your life on top of all the others that are at stake.”

  “I’m not asking you to risk it,” she said, kissing him softly on the lips. “Just to trust me.”

  Conor stepped away for a moment, putting his hands against the iron window frame as he looked outside.

  “It will be a few weeks before you can leave here,” h
e said, turning back to face her. “Will you be all right with that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And when you do leave, we need to make it look as though you escaped with help from the outside. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she said, stepping forward to pull the linen tunic he wore upwards, over his torso which gleamed in the light, droplets of sweat beading on bronze flesh.

  “In the meantime I will visit you each day. Several times. I must make sure, after all, that my prisoner is fed.”

  With that, Lily yanked his trousers towards the floor to reveal an eager cock which thrust itself towards her, demanding attention.

  She knelt down, grateful to be wearing jeans which protected her knees against the floor’s cold, and took him in her hands.

  “What was that about feeding?” she asked, before wrapping full lips around him.

  “Dear God,” he moaned out loud, his fingers entwining themselves in her hair. “You have not even come close to losing your touch, have you?”

  “No. No, I haven’t,” she said as she returned to her joy.

  9

  Graeme

  As the weeks passed, Graeme loyally fulfilled his duties, training his dragon army as he had learned to do during his youth, and proceeding with preparations for a war that he had no intention of fighting, one against an unknown and unseen enemy.

  His father had always said that Graeme was the best soldier that he had ever seen, and even now he led drills with perfect timing, creating aerial patterns of fast-flying dragons in the sky about the castle with precision, skill and beauty.

  The elder Lord Ramsey was impressed and relieved to see his son flourishing in his native environment.

  “I knew that you would come around,” he told Graeme. “I knew that a dragon’s blood is stronger than any bond that a Ritual could create. This war will be over quickly, Graeme. And, it is to be hoped, with relatively little bloodshed. Remember that our true target are the Beorn. The weaker shifters are of no interest to us.”

  “Yes, Father.” Graeme spoke the words repeatedly and convincingly in those days. His entire plan hinged on the notion that his father believed that he had all but forgotten his mates; that their bond had broken in favour of his renewed bloodlust.

  But in fact it had grown, given him strength that his father couldn’t even imagine. Knowing that Lily was safe and seeking Conor gave him the strength that he needed to continue, though the future remained an uncertain mess of possibilities.

  He played the role of general, leading the dragons in aerial combat drills, demanding that they practice hitting targets from a distance.

  But to Graeme, this was a chance to hone his own skills. On occasion when a fledgling dragon shifter flew about, he would impede the flow of their flame, stopping the fire in its tracks in mid-air as the confused fire-breather looked on, wondering if he were lacking in skills.

  Graeme practiced freezing the soldiers mid-flight, occasionally convincing them to turn on one another, or forcing one to fly to the ground, landing hard, confused as to how he got there and filled with feelings of inadequacy.

  Slowly and methodically, their leader was creating an army of incompetent dragons. The species that had so often exhibited absolute confidence now seemed to back away, shy and timid, questioning their own capabilities.

  Because they were young and inexperienced, they often attributed their failures strictly to themselves, never suspecting that they came from elsewhere. And so they never admitted their own fears to one another or to their commander.

  Graeme ensured that his father and mother never saw him in these particular situations, though they were allowed to watch many of the drills. His father, the elder Lord Ramsey, seemed relatively convinced that his son had finally come round, and Graeme found himself a better actor than he would ever have suspected.

  One of the younger dragons, a man named Hara, seemed particularly taken with his new leader. He would corner Graeme after their training exercises and ask questions about his own experiences, particularly those in modern-day London and Scotland.

  “What happens?” he asked one day, encompassing the entire future in those two words, as though Graeme could possibly offer a satisfactory reply.

  “Everything,” said Graeme. “Communication becomes easier—you can speak to someone on the other side of the world, using a device called a cellular phone.”

  It was during such conversations that he found his heart aching for Lilliana and Conor. His communications with the latter had been sporadic, and Lily hadn’t returned, though somehow this wasn’t worrying. No woman was better able to look after herself.

  Graeme’s entire plan for the war, however, was based on an assumption that Conor would have the same train of thought; that they were truly brothers now, in mind as well as spirit and soul. It was faith that drove him forward, and faith would be his greatest ally.

  One morning the young shifter named Hara came to Graeme’s chamber to notify him that he had a visitor.

  “A woman?” he asked, internally annoyed at the eagerness in his voice. After all, would Lilliana really show up at the front gate like a regular visitor? Surely not. She was far more stealthy than that.

  “No, not a woman. A man…and…an owl,” replied Hara, hesitant and confused. “I don’t entirely know what to make of them. The man was a little frightening.

  Holding his initial disappointment at bay, Graeme smiled at the thought of Merriman venturing into this century to help, if indeed that was his intent.

  “Show him in, please,” he said.

  “And the owl, my Lord?”

  “Yes, yes. The owl as well. And his name is Barnabas. Treat them with respect.”

  “I could hardly treat them in any other way, my Lord,” said Hara, his voice more tremulous than any dragon’s should be.

  A few moments later, as Graeme stared at maps, examining them for large, open spaces where sight lines might be clear from the air, the man that he now saw as a mentor entered the room.

  “Merry,” he said, dashing over to shake the gryphon shifter’s outstretched hand.

  “Lord Graeme.” Merriman bowed his head, the owl on his shoulder flying up towards a high rafter to take in the view of the room.

  “I think my men are worried that your owl friend will read our strategic maps, a bird spy,” laughed Graeme.

  “Well, there’s nothing to stop him,” said Merriman, his tone serious. “You should be more careful.” He walked over to the table where sheets of parchment lay outstretched, depicting the area surrounding the Ramseys’ castle.

  “What is your plan?” Merriman asked quietly while he studied them as Graeme had done.

  “My plan is very much wrapped up in the hope that Conor’s plan is the same,” he said, “though I don’t know what he intends. I haven’t seen Lilliana in some time, and am slightly concerned that our mate has turned to the dark side, as it were.”

  “There is no telling what may happen. Conor may have the best of intentions; he may plan to save the world. But power is a strong aphrodisiac, as you know. A word, a promise, could turn him. He is one of us now, a shifter through and through. I have seen greater men than him fall to corruption.”

  “I simply can’t imagine it,” began Graeme. “He’s so…human.”

  “Of course he is, to you. You’ve never yet seen his Beorn form. You don’t know how he is admired and even worshiped. An entire species has put their hopes in him. And he can only prove so strong.”

  “Well, I have faith in him.”

  Merriman’s eyes locked on Graeme’s, the familiar kindliness warming them. “You are a good man, for a dragon,” he said. “If there’s hope for you, perhaps there’s hope for all of us.”

  10

  Lily

  Lily spent her days in relative comfort, despite the coldness of her inhospitable cell. Conor had seen to it that she had comfortable, if plain, bedding. Her chamber pot was cleaned daily, her view of the outer world remarkably lovely t
hrough a small window, only obstructed by a few criss-crossing iron bars.

  She didn’t dare venture out of her cell, much as it would have been easy to do so, and instead focused on her own mind and body. She was not strong and muscular like her mates, but she exercised each morning, and ate all of the food that was brought to her, which included all manner of meat and vegetables.

  Somehow Conor had persuaded the castle’s residents that she needed to be kept strong and healthy. Perhaps he knew what was happening inside her. Had he read it in her mind? She was thoroughly cautious around him, avoiding thoughts about the child who was growing quickly, though now she was convinced that his own mind was developing within her womb. On occasion as she lay in her small bed, she saw visions of his world: warm, wet, comforting. She would sing to him; lullabies from her youth to soothe him, to keep him shielded from the brutality of the real world.

  And though Conor was at the forefront of the war which was about to unfold on the fields beyond the prison’s walls, he too was a symbol of warmth and kindness.

  At night he often came to see her. He would tell her of his progress in instructing his army to follow his every order; of their loyalty and trust in him.

  And then he would tenderly disrobe her, pleasuring her in his gifted way to comfort them both. Lily found her hands going frequently to his back, pulling him into her, holding him tight against her body as though terrified of the loss that might yet come.

  The image from the painting came to her, haunting her in frequent bursts: her lovers, one bloodied, broken. The other triumphant in the air, breathing a wall of flame. Unconquerable.

  Yes, she knew who was to lose this battle. And ever since she’d first laid eyes on him, she’d feared losing him. Yet here they were again.

  “Come away with me,” she said softly one night as he lay stroking her white flesh. “Let’s escape this world.”

  “That sounds so very final, my Lilliana,” he’d replied.