by Tara West
The girl turned up her nose. “You do not need to thank me. I’m following my deity’s orders.”
Why were all the women of the Shifting Sands so intent on hating her? It seemed her only friend among them was Feira. Well, and perhaps Simeon, though he was more flirt than friend.
Magic burned Dianna’s palms, making her wish she could force the girl to bend the knee instead of hovering over her like an angry raven, but she forced a smile and ignored Sindri’s heavy sigh echoing in her skull. “Well, thank you for following those orders.”
The breeze tickling Dianna’s nape evaporated as the air behind her backside became heavy with heat.
Did you think we would harm her? a dark voice boomed in her skull.
She spun on her heel to see Tan’yi’na behind her, stretching his neck to full height. How was such a giant able to sneak up behind her without making a sound? His ominous, glowing eyes narrowed to two deadly slits, making Dianna feel like a mouse caught in a snake’s den.
She forced her slackened jaw to close and stepped back until she pressed against Lydra’s cold scales. She did not know if it was anger or fear that kept her from answering the golden dragon. Though her blood boiled at his unfair treatment, her knees shook at the realization the monolithic beast could easily devour her in one swallow.
Steam poured out of his nostrils. You do not trust us, his accusation reverberated in her head. Odd how he was able to project into her mind.
The hurt in his tone reminded her of a petulant child, and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes at his indignation. She shrugged. “I do not know you.”
He folded one clawed foot over the other, his tail erratically slapping the earth, like he was a bored and pampered feline. And we do not know you, yet my mistress has given you food and shelter, and has assigned her best healers to your dragon. His fanged jowls hinted at a smile. Despite what you are.
Dianna’s spine stiffened. “What I am?”
Spawn of a cursed bitch. The dragon scraped one long claw across the top of a discarded shield, sparks flying from the friction. You look just like her.
Energy crackled in her palms, and it took all her willpower not to strike the smirk off the dragon’s face. “I am not her. I am my own person.”
He gave Dianna a pointed look, one that said she was no more worthy of his time than the scum that collected between the pads of his paw. You are no person. You are the daughter of a goddess, a creation of Elemental magic.
She vehemently shook her head. “I was raised by people, loved by people.” She refused to let him believe she was anything but a beloved daughter, sister, and friend.
His serpentine tongue darted out, swiping grime and dust off his snout. But that doesn’t make you human.
“I will not let you or anyone else define me.” Magic crackled when she pounded her chest. “I know what I am.”
And what are you? he asked in a sing-song voice, tempting her more and more with his smug attitude. How badly she wanted to flatten the earth again and knock the bothersome dragon on his arse.
She hated the way her voice shook when she spoke. “I am Dianna, daughter to two beloved parents and sister to three brave brothers. I am alone in a strange world. I am tired and afraid, but I am determined to save my people from the wrath of two cruel goddesses, and I am not deterred by a stupid, menacing dragon with a misplaced grudge.” Dianna took a shallow breath, fanning the cloud of thick smoke around her. “Your breath smells like pig dung.”
She knew her insult had gone too far even before the healers ran behind Lydra when Tan’yi’na jumped on all fours and reared back, a glowing red ball pulsing beneath his chest scales.
Energy crackled in her palms as she prepared to strike Tan’yi’na before he unleashed his fire.
“There you are, Dianna. My grandmother is looking for you.”
She was shocked to see Simeon race right under Tan’yi’na’s front leg and to her side, linking his arm through hers. Simeon’s smile appeared to be plastered to his face as they walked arm-in-arm around the dragon’s monster tail, which broke open the earth as it lashed the ground.
“Thank you, Tan’yi’na, for keeping watch over her in my absence,” Simeon shouted at the monster. “Grandmother will be most pleased to find her unharmed.”
Dianna felt the dragon’s hot breath on her back as Simeon practically dragged her to the cave and down the stone stairs.
As soon as they reached the first landing, he released her, slumping against the wall. He smoothed his cheeks with a groan. It was then she noticed how he visibly shook.
He looked at her with a slackened jaw. “Do you have a death wish?”
She repressed a smile as she leaned against the opposite wall. “Perhaps.”
He pushed off the wall, throwing up his hands. “You are the most perplexing woman I’ve ever met.”
She crossed her arms, pressing her back into the wet stones when he approached. “Is this about me not fawning over you or standing up to Tan’yi’na’?”
Dianna’s breath caught in her throat when he stood over her, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes and pushing it behind her ear.
He flashed a slanted smile. “Both.”
She tried to think of something clever to say, but her heart pounded like a gong in her ears, making it hard to think. His amber eyes had bright flecks of gold in them that reminded her of Tan’yi’na’s scales, glistening in the sun. Perhaps the gold was where his magic was hidden. ’Twould make sense, since his eyes were so mesmerizing.
“Was it true what you said back there?” He twirled the tip of her pale braid around his finger. “You care about the fate of mortals?”
She thought about escaping, but he had her trapped between his thick arms, his palms flat against the wall while he leaned far too close to her, so close the smell of his sweaty musk turned her limbs to porridge.
“Of course,” she said, sounding strangely breathless. “I was raised by mortals. My brothers are mortals.”
“Odd that you are so compassionate despite possessing powerful magic.” His voice dripped with sweetness, like thick syrup.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was using his magic to subdue her, and she cursed herself a fool for letting him.
She wished she could find a way to escape his spell. “You know nothing about my magic.”
He arched a thick brow. “You control Madhea’s dragon, do you not?”
“Yes.”
“Then your magic must be powerful indeed.”
He brought the tail of her braid to his nose, inhaling and then sighing. At first she was flattered by his display, but she couldn’t stop thinking about his odd behavior, and she had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing. What kind of man would inhale her hair? She hadn’t bathed in weeks. Between the dirt and bugs caked in her hair, and the spray from Tan’yi’na’s breath, she probably smelled like a discarded animal carcass.
Disgusted, she brushed his hand away. “Can’t a woman be both kind and powerful?”
“Of course, but you are a goddess, not a woman.”
When he reached for her again, she brushed him away. “I can assure you, despite whatever magic flows in my veins, I am first and foremost a woman.”
That was the wrong thing to say. She knew it as soon as the words had left her mouth and he flashed that wolfish grin.
“Prove it.”
When he slipped a hand behind her neck and leaned into her, lips puckered, she instinctively slapped him so hard, he spun backward, the sound of her palm striking his cheek ricocheting off the walls and bouncing down the stairs.
“Is that proof enough?” She flexed her fingers, preparing for another strike.
He turned to her, rubbing the pale imprint of her hand. “No woman has ever struck me.”
“I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She leaned into him, jutting a finger in his chest and inwardly smiling when he flinched. “And if you ever try to kiss me again, it won’t be the
last.”
She hurried away, using the wall for support and hoping she didn’t fall on her arse as she flew down the slick steps. Great goddess, everyone in the Shifting Sands was mad, and she was craziest of all for regretting the feel of the sting in her palm and desperately wishing she would have let Simeon kiss her.
Chapter Six
Alec sat on a flat slab of stone a few paces from Zier and Grim’s log bench. Des sat beside him, gorging on yet another pie. Dwarves roasted wild boars and a stag in a fire pit. Gorpat had trapped the stag in a nearby ravine. The poor beast hadn’t stood a chance when Gorpat’s foot crashed down on him. After Alec saw Gorpat returning to camp with the flattened stag slung across her shoulders, he was glad he hadn’t made enemies of the giant or her dwarf father.
The dwarves skinned the deer and cut it up, its thin steaks hanging from the spit like wet socks. Grim assured Alec the meat would be tender. To Alec’s delight it was, though he couldn’t help but feel pity for the animal as he chewed its succulent meat.
Much to Alec’s dismay, Ryne and his companions refused to eat or sit with the dwarves. They built their own smaller campfire, ate dried fish, and then retired early to their bedrolls. Gorpat had gone to sleep, too, lying on her back beside the fire, the suction from her powerful snores pulling down the tree branches overhead until they’d nearly plastered her face, wildly flapping and leaves fluttering to the ground with each exhale.
Grim’s many cousins sat around the campfire, talking amongst themselves while casting the ice dwellers strange looks. Alec couldn’t decide if they were intrigued or aggravated by their guests, but after Ryne stomped around most of the night like an angry bear, Alec suspected the latter.
Alec couldn’t understand what had put Ryne in such a foul mood, other than the misunderstanding with Gorpat the day before. Would he hold on to that grudge forever? Perhaps he was angry that his furry companion had switched loyalties. Tar and Brendle had found a friendly pair of dwarves at the other side of camp, who were handing out bones.
“Masters Zier and Grim,” Alec said, picking meat from between his teeth, “I thank you and your family for your hospitality. Indeed, this meat is the best I’ve ever eaten.”
Though Alec had been trying all night to compensate for Ryne’s dark mood and lighten their spirits, ’twas no lie. His sweet departed mother had been highly skilled with healing herbs, but her roasts were often tough and dry. Mayhap there was something to smashing your food before roasting it.
“Wait until you try Ma’s fresh pies,” Grim said before taking several hearty gulps of his flask and passing it to Zier.
“I can’t wait,” Alec said in earnest, not minding at all if they delayed in the town of Aya-Shay while Zier visited his family for a spell.
Des wiped crumbs off his lips, which were stained with the pie’s red berries. “Me, too!”
Des was rewarded with two more pies from Grim’s cousins.
“Fanks!” Des said, stuffing his face, too preoccupied with his food to pay Alec any heed when he warned the boy to slow down.
These dwarves must have a secret pastry treasure trove. Alec had thought of asking for one himself, but his belly was full of stag and boar meat.
“Have you heard of the Ash Witch poem, lad?” Zier asked.
“No,” Alec answered, curiosity piquing his interest. “I haven’t.”
Zier puffed out his chest and recited:
“Tongue of a serpent
Beauty of a rose
Soul of a demon
With ne’er as many clothes.”
When Des giggled, Alec couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“We don’t need to hear the next verse,” Grim said to Zier, his features darkening.
“But ‘tis the best part.” Zier laughed, slapping his knee.
“Heart of a shrew
Eyes of a hawk
Pay the witch her due
Or she’ll chop off your block.”
Alec swallowed hard at that, his hand instinctively going to his neck. He hoped he’d never have the misfortune of crossing the sea witch’s path.
“I know another ending.” Zier elbowed Grim, then looked at Gorpat behind them, “but there is a lady present.”
Alec shifted uncomfortably, thinking death by voracious siren would be a better fate than facing Eris.
Zier drank from Grim’s flask before handing it back to him. “Your blue-skinned friends aren’t much for company.” He nodded at the ice dwellers, lying in their bedrolls, their backs to the rest of the party.
“No,” Alec said on a sigh, “they aren’t.”
Zier leveled Alec with a surprisingly somber look for someone who’d drained his flask and half of Grim’s. “How did you come to be with them?”
“Ryne’s family nursed my brother Markus when he fell into Ice Kingdom.” Alec frowned, his heart feeling like a block of splintered ice when he remembered how he’d almost lost Marcus to Madhea’s curse. “Without them, he would have died.”
Zier’s coppery brows dipped low over his eyes. “So now you are indebted to this blue slog?”
Alec shrugged. “We were traveling the same direction, so....” But now he was having serious regrets about agreeing to accompany Ryne on this journey. Markus hadn’t warned him the ice dweller was disagreeable.
Grim and Zier shared knowing looks. “Hopefully the rest of the ice people are not like him,” Grim grumbled.
Alec straightened, thinking about how Ryne’s behavior would affect the other ice people. If Zier refused to accompany them to Aloa-Shay, they would be on their own in a strange land. Whether Ryne agreed or not, they needed the trader’s guidance and expertise.
Alec cleared his throat. “Marcus assures me they are kind. Ryne carries the weight of his people’s fate on his back, so I imagine such a stress would affect his mood.”
Though it was true, Alec resented Ryne for putting him in the position of having to justify Ryne’s behavior after Alec and his mother had spent too many years making up excuses for his cuts and bruises rather than placing the blame where it was due, on his father.
Zier rubbed his bushy beard, snickering. “Even more of a reason to show gratitude when others help him.”
Curse Ryne for making Alec look like a fool. He stared into his empty cup. He’d taken the bronze goblet, worn from years of use, from his home before Lydra destroyed it. Seeing his dull reflection in the bottom of the cup, he recalled something. Markus had given him Zier’s shield, and he had yet to return it.
“That reminds me.” Alec stood, stretching his legs, then walking over to his bedroll. “I am grateful to you, Zier.” He slipped the heavy disk with the imprint of a rotund whale, spouting water from the top of its horned head, from the roll. Balancing the shield against his leg, he carried it to Zier and heaved it into the dwarf’s arms. “This served Markus well on his travels. He asked me to give it back to you.”
“Ah.” Zier hugged it to his chest like a long-lost lover. “I had mourned this treasure, thinking it gone for good.”
Grim slapped his knees and pointed at his cousin. “Zier has carried that shield with him for over thirty years. I can’t believe he’d part with it.”
Zier puffed up his chest. “Well, young Markus needed it more than I did.”
Alec had to bite his tongue, for Markus had told him Zier only parted with it in a desperate attempt to keep Markus from leading the ice dragon to the village of Kicelin, where Zier’s two married daughters lived with their families.
“Indeed, it is a fine treasure. Thank you for allowing my brother to borrow it. Also, there is this.” Alec handed Zier a bag of gold he’d kept in his vest pocket. “Payment for the gear you gave Markus. I’m afraid his boots and gloves did not survive the journey.”
Zier leaned over his shield and poured a few coins into his hand, then gave the bag back to Alec, still weighted with several pieces. “Here, my friend,” Zier said. “Surely an old pair of boots and gloves wasn’t worth that much.”
“Aye, and your mother and father always dealt fairly with me, though your father not with you so much, eh? There was not a time I didn’t visit your hut that you didn’t sport some new cut or bruise. I heard how Rowlen died. Can’t say I blame you. I myself wanted to cut him down a time or two for his treatment of you, but I swear the man was part giant.” He elbowed his cousin, gesturing to a tall tree branch above them. “I barely came to the slog’s knees.”
A log in the campfire crackled and split, sending a burst of embers into the air. Alec shifted uncomfortably, a strange feeling came over him, as if he was being watched, not by any living thing, but by his father’s ghost. He rubbed the prickly hairs on the back of his neck, shifting again and cursing himself a fool for believing Rowlen was near. His father’s spirit had probably long departed from this world, hopefully after finding a way to reconcile his cruelty in the afterlife. Of one thing Alec was certain: it would be a long while before Alec could think of his childhood or his father’s ugly death with anything other than sorrow.
“I’m sorry, lad,” Zier said. “I see it pains you to hear of him.”
Alec struggled to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat. “Aye, that it does. I can’t close my eyes at night without seeing his face. One day I will be able to bear the memory of his abuse without so much bitterness. After all, it was Madhea who put the curse on his heart, making him hate me.”
Zier straightened, sharing startled looks with the other dwarves, who’d suddenly gone silent, staring across the crackling campfire at Alec.
Zier leaned on one knee. “I did not know this.”
Alec wiped a bead of sweat off his brow, wishing he could move his stone slab farther from the fire. “I only just learned it from Markus.”
Low murmurs spread around the circle.
“And how came he by this knowledge?” Grim asked.
Alec tapped out a nervous rhythm with his foot. How were these dwarves expected to believe him when he hardly believed the tale himself? “He learned it from the Elementals when he fought Madhea in her ice palace.”