by Tara West
“Disloyal mutt,” Ryne grumbled.
Alec sat there stunned, blood gushing out his nose. In that moment, two thoughts occurred to him. First, the pain was intense, and second, he was ashamed of having been defeated so easily. What would the dwarves think, seeing him planted on his arse? What would Des think?
Alec shut his eyes against the agony, imagining Rowlen standing over him, calling him a worthless coward. He gritted his teeth and swore, getting to his knees before rising on shaky legs. His jaw dropped when he faced Zier and his cousins, some wielding axes and blades while others held bows, their arrows pointed at their chests. Behind him, Tar whined.
“Move aside, lad,” Zier said to Alec, spitting a wad of grit on the ground. He wielded an axe that was taller than him, though he held it in his beefy arms as if it was an extension of himself.
“Zier, please.” Alec held out his palms, struggling to suck in a breath as he wiped the blood that trickled down his nose and into his mouth. “Let us discuss this.”
Zier pointed his axe in Ryne’s direction. “We were through discussing when he called me a thief.”
“You coveted that stone, and now it’s missing.” Ryne held his dagger at the ready, clutching the hilt so tight, his blue knuckles whitened. “Who else would have taken it?”
The other ice dwellers grumbled their agreement, flanking Ryne on both sides. Had they all a death wish? Were they expecting to do battle with an army of dwarves?
Tar shifted from foot to foot, nudging Alec’s hand as if expecting him to prevent a battle between two stubborn opponents.
Zier’s nostrils flared, and he kicked up dirt like he was an angry bull, ready to charge. “I have no idea where yer cursed stone is, ya boar-headed son-of-a-siren!”
Not to be outdone, Ryne kicked up dirt, too, then swung his blade, poised to cut off Zier’s head. “Give us back our stone!”
What a fool. Ryne had to know he wouldn’t get in the first blow before he was filled full of dwarf arrows.
“I am no thief! Alec has known me his whole life.” Zier’s round cheeks turned crimson. “He can vouch for me. I’ve always been a fair trader.”
Alec’s nose continued to gush, and he was forced to suck in shallow, bloody breaths. Ryne had made up his mind about the dwarves and their kin, but he had to talk some sense into his foolish blue friend.
“Zier has always been honest with my family and the villagers of Adolan.” Alec winced as pain shot through his face with each word. Great goddess! His nose throbbed and spurted like a damn infected boil.
“And yet the stone is missing.” Ryne’s gaze sharpened. “I have heard tales of how the dwarves hoard gold.”
Grim cleared his throat, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his cousin. “Aye, we do. We’ve earned our treasure through honest work, and we don’t appreciate you insinuating otherwise.”
“Yah, Dada. We dwarves honest,” Gorpat chimed in, leaning against a tree and rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Alec gritted his teeth. Just great. The giant was awake. If the blue men had stood no chance before, they’d fare better against a pod of starving sirens than this lot.
Ryne waved a fist at the dwarves. “And I don’t appreciate you stealing an heirloom that has belonged to my people for over three hundred years.”
Zier heaved a blubbery sigh, heavy lines framing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Alec, but your friends are no longer welcome in our camp.”
“We’re not leaving without the stone.” Ryne stomped a foot like a wayward toddler.
Zier’s cousins drew back their bows and raised their weapons.
Zier held a hand to his ear, leaning toward Ryne with a crooked smile. “What was that, son? I thought I heard you say you weren’t leaving, but I must be mistaken.”
“You’re not mistaken.” Ryne widened his stance. “We’re not leaving without the stone.”
Grim tossed back his head and laughed, his cousins following suit. Soon, the forest was awash in the dwarves’ laughter while Ryne’s blue skin turned a bright purple.
“The way I see it, you got two choices,” Zier said with a wink, thumbing at his armed cousins. “Leave while you still can or stay and be poked full of holes.”
Alec cursed under his breath. His knees weakened at the glint of determination in Ryne’s eyes as he refused to budge. The pastry in Alec’s stomach threatened to make its way back up his throat. As much as he was starting to despise this ice dweller, he didn’t want to see him killed. To make matters worse, a soft, strangled sob came from somewhere behind the dwarves, followed by the shrill sound of distress of another dog. Des and his mutt were awake and none too happy. What would he say to Des if the dwarves slaughtered the ice people?
“Ryne, no.” Ven placed a hand on Ryne’s shoulder. “Our people are depending on us to find answers.”
Keeping his gaze trained on Zier, Ryne spoke to his friend out of the side of his mouth. “What will you say to your family if you return without the stone?”
Ven shrugged. “They would rather I returned empty-handed than not at all.”
Ryne’s shoulders dropped. He cursed, kicking a rock toward Zier. “Ice dwellers do not forget when they are wronged, dwarf.”
“And dwarves do not forget when they’ve been insulted.”
Ryne turned his heated gaze to Alec. “Are you coming?”
Alec backed up a step, instinctively shielding his aching nose. "We’re staying here.”
Ryne’s face fell before he plastered on a sneer. “You’d rather trust your fate to a band of thieves?”
“They’re not thieves, Ryne.” Alec groaned, wishing the ice dwellers would leave already. The tension Ryne had created was as thick as stale gruel, and Alec did not know how he’d ever make enough apologies to his dwarf friends.
“This is all your fault.” Ryne pointed his blade at Alec’s chest. “If only you hadn’t insisted on following that toad and his freak child.”
Alec froze when he heard the familiar thwack of a bowstring snapping.
Ryne cursed, jumping back as an arrow flew between his legs, coming precariously close to slicing off his bollocks.
“Fine. We’re leaving,” Ryne spat, motioning for his friends to retreat.
As they rolled up their packs, Tar trotted over to Alec, whimpering and licking blood off his hand. A knot caught in Alec’s throat. Though he wouldn’t miss the ice dwellers, he’d miss their dog. He was sure Brendle would miss Tar, too.
Alec spun around at a shrill bark. Des’s dog raced between the dwarves’ legs and up to Tar. They nuzzled and licked each other, making their farewells. Alec fought the urge to demand Tar stay with them. Ryne had already been pushed to the edge of madness. If Alec kept the dog, it would drive Ryne to do something epically stupid. Besides, the ice people needed a protector after angering the dwarves.
Alec wiped away an errant tear while he bent over and scratched Tar’s ears one last time. Tar licked his bloody nose, then trotted off after his master, who gave Zier one last heated look, a look that promised retribution, before disappearing into the forest. Curse the ice dweller, Alec feared he was dumb enough to seek revenge.
Alec thought the worst was over, but tension still hung in the air like a thick fog. The dwarves kept their weapons trained on the forest where the ice dwellers had disappeared.
Grim whistled up to his daughter. “Follow them, my pearl. I don’t trust those blue broots.”
“Ya, Dada.” She stomped off, knocking down trees and flattening bushes.
Zier whistled to his cousins, and several of them followed Gorpat, weapons drawn.
Alec mourned the loss of his party.
Des came up to him, hugging Alec’s waist. “Why did they go?” he sniffled, tears streaming down his grimy face. His little mutt cringed at his feet, staring after Gorpat.
“Because they are idiots,” Alec answered, silently cursing Ryne for risking not only his life but the lives of others in his party.
Alec looked down Zier whe
n the dwarf joined him. “I’m so sorry for everything.”
The dwarf frowned. “Nothing to be sorry about, lad.” He let out a long, slow sigh. “It is I who am sorry, but this is for your own good.”
“What?”
When Zier knocked Alec’s feet out from under him, Brendle screeched and Des gasped.
Alec hit the ground so hard, he saw stars. “W-What did you do that for?”
“Sorry.” Zier scratched the back of his head. “I forgot how far down you have to fall.”
Grim and Zier shared wary looks, then Grim uncorked his flask and handed it to Alec. “Drink this,” he said.
Alec tried to push away the foul-smelling drink. Dwarf whiskey this early in the morning? Alec would pass out.
He gaped at Grim. “Why?”
When Zier cracked his knuckles, frowning at Alec’s bloody face, he knew exactly what the strong brew was for. His mother had set his nose enough times for him to know what was coming. Curse the Elements! Alec took several gulps and handed the flask back to Grim. Two dwarves came up behind him, latching onto his arms.
When Zier grabbed Alec’s nose, he thought he’d pass out from the pain. Alec fought his captors, screaming, but those damn dwarves were as strong as boars. Zier shifted his nose once, twice, and then stars exploded in Alec’s skull when the dwarf set the bone in place.
Alec gaped up at Zier. “Siren’s teeth! That hurt!”
He leaned over Alec, running a finger across the bridge of his nose. “Better now than after it sets, when we’d have to break it again.”
“Aye. It isss,” Alec slurred, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.
Zier flashed a crooked smile. “Do we need to give you a moment?”
He held up a hand as Zier transformed from one dwarf into two. Or mayhap he was confusing Grim for Zier. “Aye, just a moment,” he said, then smiled as a pleasant tingly feeling numbed his extremities, making his arms feel like two sacks of stones. Soon the warmth spread across his chest and up to his face, numbing his nose until the painful throbbing was just a dull ache.
Alec smiled at Zier as two images became one and then broke apart again. “Thanksss, friend. Feels much better.”
Zier shook his head. “Night, son.”
Before Alec could answer, his eyelids fell shut.
* * *
Dianna thought it strange how Tan’yi’na sat beside the shoreline, watching the healers apply poultices to her sleeping dragon’s wounds as if he was inspecting their work. Did he care for the fate of her dragon? More likely he was only there to ensure Lydra didn’t eat the healers.
As soon as he spied Dianna’s party approaching, the monster reared up on all fours, arching his back and hissing like a cat, a giant fire-breathing cat with a dragon-sized grudge.
Sprout pushed ahead of Dianna and the guards, wagging a finger at the menacing dragon. “Tan’yi’na, Grandmother says you are to be nice and not eat our honored guest.”
He sat down, his jowls drooping. “I am not a servant, little Kyani. I do not take orders.”
Undeterred, the child placed both hands on her hips. “You will be nice, or I will have no choice but to restrain you.”
Dianna pushed ahead of the guards. Why would this little girl threaten a dragon, and why weren’t the guards stopping her? “Sprout, please.” She grabbed the child by the shoulder, pulling her away from the rancid heat of the dragon’s breath. “Don’t provoke him.”
She knew as soon as she’d taken hold of Sprout that she’d made the wrong move. Tan’yi’na jumped up again, letting out a primal roar, plastering her face and hair with dragon spittle and nearly causing her to fall backward.
His roar was enough to wake Lydra from her healing slumber. Her eyes shot open, red and ominous as she struggled to stand. Tan’yi’na spun around, his chest swelling as he roared at Lydra. A pestilence of pixies! Dianna was not looking forward to breaking up another dragon fight.
“Sindri, please help,” she whispered, releasing Sprout.
Sprout lifted her hands, and the ground shook and grumbled, then burst open in points of light that surrounded the golden dragon. Ivy trellises as thick as Tan’yi’na’s tail shot up from the earth and quickly ensnared Tan’yi’na’s legs and wrapped around his jowls. The more the dragon fought against his restraints, the tighter the ropes cinched around him, pulling him to his knees until he was eye-level with Dianna, steam pouring out of his nostrils.
Lydra chuckled, licking her paw and grooming herself like a feline.
Dianna could scarcely believe that such a small child had the power to bring a dragon to his knees. Though she had a new admiration for Sprout, she also feared for the girl’s safety. She couldn’t contain the dragon forever, and then what? Dianna was already well aware Tan’yi’na didn’t let go of old grudges.
Sprout jutted her hands on her hips. “Are you going to be nice?”
More steam poured from his flaring nostrils. He growled, then winced as his restraints squeezed his legs so tight, they looked ready to snap the dragon in two. Finally, Tan’yi’na heaved a comically pitiful sigh, then nodded.
Sprout waved her fingers in the air, and the bright ivy turned dull brown, dried out, and snapped off Tan’yi’na’s limbs with ease. The dragon jerked forward with a grunt, stomping the dried foliage into the sand and kicking up a cloud of dust.
Dianna placed a protective hand on the child’s shoulder, nudging her back in case Tan’yi’na paid them both back for his humiliating captivity. A dragon as proud as Tan’yi’na would not easily forget being shamed in front of the spawn of the woman who murdered his mistress.
“Thanks, Sprout,” Dianna whispered in the child’s ear, fanning dust away from her face and warily eyeing the dragon.
“Don’t mention it.” The child broke free from Dianna’s grip and daringly skipped under Tan’yi’na’s massive jowls, patting his neck before hugging one thick, scaled leg. Much to Dianna’s amazement, the dragon nuzzled the child’s head, purring like a kitten.
She supposed she should have been relieved the dragon wasn’t angry with Sprout. It seemed he only held a grudge against her, though she’d never done anything to offend him other than make the mistake of being born.
Sprout waved to Dianna. “You may go see your dragon.” She turned back to Tan’yi’na, shushing him when he growled.
Dianna left the useless guards behind and walked a wide path around Tan’yi’na, magic crackling in her palms as she nervously watched the golden dragon.
Lydra was sitting up on all fours, her head bobbing and her eyelids heavy with sleep. Whatever draught the healers had given to her was strong, but Dianna was pleased to see the dragon’s wounds were healing amazingly fast, considering her fight with Tan’yi’na the day before.
The ice dragon slid down on her belly when Dianna approached, cooing a greeting.
“Hello, girl.” Dianna leaned up and stroked Lydra’s muzzle. “You look so much stronger.”
Of course, she is. Tan’yi’na’s admonition echoed in Dianna’s skull. We dragons are far more resilient than you weak humans.
Ignoring him, she climbed up on Lydra’s front leg and scratched a favorite spot behind the dragon’s ear. “How do you feel?”
Lydra whimpered her response.
You treat her like a pet, Tan’yi’na scolded.
She glared over her shoulder. The golden dragon was hovering like a nosey neighbor. “She is not my pet. She is my friend.” She caressed her ear and did her best to ignore Tan’yi’na’s hot breath pouring down her back.
You ride her like a pony, the menacing dragon said, chuckling.
She suspected the dragon was provoking her and did her best to keep her composure, forcing a note of calm into her voice. “How else did you expect us to escape my mother?”
If you escaped. There was no mistaking the acidic accusation in his words.
“What is that supposed to mean?” She regretted the question as soon as she’d asked it. Tan’yi’na’s eyes
widened, then narrowed, making her feel like a cornered mouse beneath his hawk-like glare.
He leaned into her, until the steam from his nostrils fogged up her vision. It means I still do not trust that you and your deceitful mother aren’t laying a trap for my people.
Lydra’s low growl reverberated through Dianna. She laid a comforting hand on her dragon. “Easy, girl. It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay. Her thudding heart quickened, sounding like a gong in her ears. No other being unnerved Dianna like Tan’yi’na, not even Simeon. “I did not come here to trap anyone.” She hated the way her voice shook. Though the dragon’s taunts made her want to pull out her hair by the roots, she didn’t want him to know how much he affected her. She forced herself to act brave, even though her limbs quaked with fear. “Feira trusts me, and that’s all that matters.”
His fanged jowls hinted at a smile. No, that is not all that matters, for you still have not been judged by The Seven.
Dianna arched a brow. “The Seven?”
The dragon’s sadistic laughter ricocheted in her head. You have not met the coven, but you are in for a shock. They will not be as trusting as my mistress.
“What is this coven?” she asked, no longer masking her ire.
Sprout stepped from behind Tan’yi’na’s legs, frowning up at Dianna. “Seven of the Shifting Sands’ most powerful witches. They are the deciders of fates.”
She was confused. If these seven witches were the rulers of the Shifting Sands, why did they call Kyan’s granddaughter their deity? “I thought Feira ruled the Shifting Sands.”
“She did,” Sprout answered, “but much of her power was transferred to The Seven after the great famine.”
“The famine?” Dianna recalled the magnificent feast at last night’s supper and the impressive spread in her room this morning. “I do not understand. The people do not appear to be starving.”
Not now, because we have Sprout. Tan’yi’na nuzzled the child’s head. But during the famine, my mistress wasn’t able to make difficult choices, which was when The Seven were created.