Kidnapped by the Dragon Harem: A Paranormal Holiday Fantasy

by Savannah Skye

  I didn’t need to hear the words as their responses rang in my chest like a bell.

  My heart was still in my mouth as MacKenzie made for the massive doors and we dropped out into the sky in a long, leisurely glide, but there was a determination in me, as well. Some things were worth fighting for.

  The other three dropped into formation in the sky behind MacKenzie and we travelled in silence. I could feel their determination, and I hoped they could feel mine. For a while, we flew, the world spilled out below us, tiny and insignificant to a dragon flying above, and then I felt the tightness of apprehension pass through the minds of my companions. Up ahead was a sprawl of rocky outcrops, sharp and unforgiving, peppered with dark caves. We had reached the drakes’ hive.

  As I watched, I saw drakes flying in and out. Suddenly, their activity became more frantic, they had seen us and were panicking.

  Good.

  They should be afraid. Hellfire was about to rain down upon them.

  Chapter 21

  As one, the clan MacKenzie tilted their wings and dived. I heard the rumble of dragon breath around me, and as the drakes approached, four streams of fire burst forth in a single ball to meet them.

  The drakes tore away, screaming from the flames, flying as fast as they could for the comparative safety of their hive. Duncan and Callum peeled off in hot pursuit, tucking their wings in for greater speed, turning them into torpedoes. Down went the drakes, knocked this way and that, torn asunder by dragon claws, broken by the swing of a dragon tail, shaken lifeless by dragon jaws.

  MacKenzie and Alistair, meanwhile, had stayed on target for the main entrance to the hive. I felt their resolve and saw Alistair's eyes narrow with undiluted hatred as he drew level with myself and MacKenzie.

  The attack was so swift—the element of surprise coming into play as MacKenzie had hoped it would—that no alarm was given until we burst into the hive, sending drakes screeching in terror. One passed over my head and on an instinct, I thrust my sword upwards into its vulnerable underbelly. I heard its angry scream and knew that I had killed my first drake. It didn't make me happy, but now I knew I could do it.

  MacKenzie landed, standing on his powerful hind legs, and roared a wave of fire into the entranceway of the hive. To our left, Alistair dived into a tangle of drakes, tearing and ripping, swatting and biting. It had previously occurred to me that there was always a fury in Alistair that he kept in close check, seething beneath the surface—now he had let that fury loose. He used it as a weapon, directing it at the drakes. It was hard to identify the man I knew with the vengeful force of nature he had become, tearing the smaller creatures apart, slashing at them with his claws, crushing heads against the rock wall. It was frightening. Not so much because of what Alistair had become, but more because he seemed to have no sense of self-preservation as he did it. I well-remembered MacKenzie's story of how he had almost got himself killed attacking drakes in the past—Alistair let his anger rule him. The truth was that, for a long time, this was how he had wanted to die, the question was whether or not he was past it.

  The drake hive split into lots of smaller tunnels, and it was into these the drakes now poured in search of their way out. But even now, with Alistair and Mackenzie killing any who came near, I could see the uncertainty in them. They hovered at the exits, whining as their desire to run fought with their overwhelming need to kill me. The scent of female dragon was in their nostrils, and while it was there, then they could not think straight. As long as I was with the dragons, then the drakes’ need to flee would probably win out in the end, but once I was alone, it would be a different matter. With a quiet thrill, I realized that this plan could actually work.

  Those drakes who did try to escape through the hive’s other caves, did not all have the easiest time of it. From up ahead, we heard more of their harsh shrieks and saw the blaze of fire, first from one tunnel, then another. Duncan and Callum had entered the hive through other routes, each picking his own cave and driving the fleeing drakes back in with their fiery breath. The drakes were not smart; facing fire in one direction, they twisted back the way they had come, right back to MacKenzie and Alistair. The brothers blew fire again, then leapt towards the escape routes. If there had only been a few tunnels in and out, then the clan would have had the drakes caught in a pincer movement, but there were so many more caves riddling the mountain range, and even the small-minded drakes soon realized the mistake they had made and slunk off into the narrower side tunnels, away from their larger pursuers. If we did not take action now, then they would escape, as they had in every other attack like this that the dragons had made, and the whole thing would be for nothing. If there were enough drakes left alive to restart the hive, then I would be in danger for the rest of my life, and I would never be able to go home and see my family and friends again. This was the moment, and it was not just me who knew it.

  Alistair held the drakes at bay with fire and ferocity as MacKenzie stooped to let me off. Dragons cannot speak, but I understood his thoughts so well that I heard them in his familiar voice.

  "I will," I replied. I will be careful.

  Of course, I would, but “careful” is a word that only applies so far when you are climbing through a series of narrow tunnels that form the nest of a bunch of evil-minded, sharp-toothed creatures trying to eviscerate you. A “careful” person doesn't put themselves in such a situation in the first place. Perhaps it was too late for careful, but I was determined to play my part, and as I crawled into a tunnel, far too narrow for a dragon, I looked back at Alistair and felt his promise; we will be there, we will protect you.

  I drew my sword as I crawled on. There was no definitive map of the hive, but I knew the general direction in which I had to head. Right now, I was hoping that the drakes were too big to get into the tunnel I was in. It certainly seemed like they ought to be, but those horrid, serpentine bodies could writhe themselves into some pretty tight gaps if they wanted to—and they wanted me more than anything. Not a pleasant thought.

  Echoing all around me, I could hear the sound of carnage being wreaked by my mates. Was there any chance that they could dispose of all the drakes before I had to play my part in all this? Probably not. But I was already playing a part. The drakes would look at the dragons and see that I was no longer with them—they would know that I was alone. They would smell me, and could probably smell the fear on me that would also tell them I was alone. Now, they were no longer trying to escape, they were looking for me.

  Up ahead, I could see where the tunnel widened as it joined another cave. Somewhere out there was the area I had mentally designated “the chimneys”, a network of narrow passages, barely wide enough for me and nowhere near able to accommodate a drake. All I had to do was reach it, and the others would do the rest. They would know when I was in position—the bond between us was strong enough for that, and they would notice all the drakes heading for the unprotected female.

  How many was “all”?

  It seemed like such a clear, simple plan, but I was now very aware of the fact that a moment would come when innumerable ravening monsters would be flying at me, all wanting to tear me apart. I was not looking forward to that moment, but I had to face it.

  I crawled out into a larger cavern and looked about. Thank god it was currently empty because it was a blind tunnel, and the drakes were not stupid enough to fly into a dead end and allow themselves to get trapped. Not unless I was at the other end.

  Knowing that I didn't have long before they picked up my scent, I began to climb. Twenty feet or so above me, at the apex of a steep, but climbable wall, I could see the series of tight holes, barely more than my shoulder width, which made up the chimneys. I struck out for them as fast as I could, eyes measuring the distance with each step, charting my progress—just another nineteen feet. And once I get to that foothold there, it'll be sixteen—call it fifteen. Sweat poured down my back, from anxiety and effort, and for the first time, Callum's chainmail felt heavy, like it was draggin
g me down.

  Suddenly, I heard a snarl from behind me. My head whipped around and I saw a single drake enter the cavern far sooner than I had hoped. It must have taken refuge from the clan in one of the side tunnels and so caught my scent before the others. Its hateful little eyes fixed on me and, in a blur of sharp wings, it flew at me. I barely had time to draw the sword before it was on me, and I lost my footing as I beat back its frenzied attack. The creature tossed and twisted its ugly head, confused by my sword. It stabbed its head at me on the end of that snake-like neck, dodging the swing of my sword as I tried to decapitate it. Finally, I got a good hit in, drawing a thin line of blood across its chest and sending it scurrying back, allowing me to get into a more secure position, ready for the next assault. The drake was obviously going to attack again, but before it did, it threw back its head and howled a summons to every other drake in the hive. It looked back at me smugly, as the sound echoed and re-echoed through the caves, and my blood ran cold. I wasn't ready for them. I hadn't reached the chimney yet, and how was I to reach it if I was still fighting off this one? If the drakes arrived before I reached the tunnels, then there was no way the clan could save me, I would be dead before they arrived.

  I thought of my family, waiting for a call from me that would never come, and a bloody-minded stubbornness rose in me. I wasn't dying today.

  The drake hurled itself at me again, and this time I showed no concern for claws and teeth, but simply plunged the blade forwards. I felt a clawed foot skitter across the chainmail, and a serrated tooth drew blood across my cheek, but I also felt my sword go in, and I pushed on.

  The lifeless drake dropped from me, rolling down the steep wall up which I had climbed. But I had no time to congratulate myself—the whole damn hive was on its way and I still had ten feet—closer to eleven—left to climb. There was no time now for mental calculations or for taking a safe route. I moved as fast as I could, jumping for each handhold and trusting to luck that I would make it. My foot slipped but I clung on tight, hauling myself up. In the background, I could hear the appalling sound of wings, accompanied by the shrieks of the approaching drakes, but I tried to block it out of my mind. I was almost there.

  Suddenly, the noises were louder and I knew without looking that they had entered the cavern. My left hand closed on the entrance to the chimney as with my right I lashed out behind me, beating back the first drake to come near and making it squawk in surprise. With a herculean effort that made my tired muscles scream, I hauled myself into the hole as a stream of fire hit the wall where I had been. No time to stop, no time to rest. I had a bare few seconds while the dim-witted drakes worked out that the holes were too small for them—then they would resort to fire. I dragged myself forward—the tunnel was too narrow for me to crawl – there, to my left, was another hole and I pulled myself into it. A heartbeat later, a snaking line of fire seared along the tunnel I had just vacated and I cowered back from the heat. The horror of what I had just escaped came home to me as more jets of fire burst beside me, and the drakes cackled.

  I huddled in my corner. I shouldn't have long to wait.

  A roar that was redoubled, then tripled, then echoed like the wrath of God around the cavern, announced the arrival of my saviors. The drakes shrieked in response, then screamed as the sound of flame met my ears. Stupidly, I dared to peer out and saw MacKenzie fly past my hiding place, a drake in each of his clawed fore-legs. He snatched a third out of the air with his mouth, breaking its body with a bite and spitting it out. Beyond him, at the entrance to the cavern, I could just see Callum acting as gatekeeper, knocking back any drakes who tried to escape. One tried to insinuate its lithe body through his legs, but Callum grabbed the creature and swung it against the wall with a sickening crack. I saw Duncan taking a stand against a host of the creatures—how many were there? a hundred? more?—flame pouring from his mouth as they dived at him, biting and scratching while he held firm. The plan was working, trapping the drakes, frying them with flames, making them panic, cutting off their retreat—it had all worked. The kernel of hope within me dared to rise. But the longer I stared, the more obvious it became that Alistair was not out there with them.

  A blinding burst of flame made me retreat to the safety of my hollow to listen to the sounds of battle without. Part of me—the dragon part, I guess—wanted to rush back out there and join in the fight, but I knew that I would be more of a hindrance than a help. I had played my part and now it was time for them to play theirs, something they would not be able to do if they were trying to protect me.

  Eventually—it seemed to me like a long time but I couldn't be sure how long it actually was—the noises subsided and I dared to crawl out. The drakes were dead. I felt no pity for them but I still did not like to look at their dismembered, burnt or crushed corpses—dragons took no prisoners. My dragons, my mates, still stood above the aftermath of battle, though they had not escaped unscathed. Duncan limped, and I noticed that one of his wings was drooping slightly. As I watched, he tested it and I saw him wince with pain.

  Callum had a deep cut running across his face, just missing his eye, and his body was decorated with claw and bite marks. Towards the end of the fight, the drakes’ desperation to get out of the cavern had become all the more frantic and violent, and that violence had been directed at Callum as he guarded the only way out. Despite injury, he had held his ground. As my eyes turned to MacKenzie, he shifted back into human form. He seemed to have fared better than his brothers—the wily old campaigner and perhaps the one the drakes most wanted to avoid. There were still claw marks, cuts and bruises across his skin, but nothing, I suspected, that would add to his tally of scars.

  He walked towards me, concern in his sharp, green eyes. "Are you alright?"

  "I'm fine."

  "You're bleeding."

  I touched my cheek and felt the wetness of blood—in the relief of my narrow escape, and the tumult that had followed, I had quite forgotten my injury. I was glad of it in a way. After seeing the state of the guys, I was happy to have some blood in this as well.

  "It's nothing." I shook my head. "Where's Alistair?"

  MacKenzie's expression changed. "I don't know. We lost him in the tunnels on our way here. I thought he would have caught up to us but..."

  "We've got to find him.”

  Now assured that I was safe, MacKenzie nodded, shifting back into dragon form then bending down to allow me to mount him. He took to the air, heading for the exit. Behind us, Duncan, who was unable to fly with his injury, shifted to human and climbed onto Callum, who followed quickly on our tail.

  Through the tunnels we raced, scanning the ground. Mackenzie and Callum blew streams of sharp blue flame to light our search. Everywhere, we saw the bodies of the drakes, but no sign of Alistair.

  "He must be here somewhere." I could hear the urgent frustration in Duncan's voice, and could sense it mirrored in his dragon brothers. They were all getting increasingly worried and starting to panic—they had been here before with Alistair.

  "Can't you smell him?" I asked.

  But the dragons could smell nothing above the stink of the dead drakes and the frantic search continued.

  "Wait!" I shouted and MacKenzie paused, hovering in mid-air. "Land a minute." I needed to be able to think clearly.

  MacKenzie touched down and I had sprung to the ground before he had even bent down to let me off. Callum landed a few feet away, he and Duncan watching me hopefully. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and tried to listen with the dragon part of me. I felt MacKenzie strong beside me, his urgent worry like a sharp color hanging in the air. Then Duncan, like a lost child looking for a parent, and Callum, outwardly so quiet but inside I felt his turmoil and fear of losing his brother. I reached beyond them, listening for the tiniest of sensations. It was there—I was sure of it—if only I could pinpoint it.

  My eyes started open. "Over there!"

  MacKenzie bounded across the landscape of rock and slaughtered drakes, half-running, half-gl
iding. He could sense it, too, now. He hurled the dead creatures aside, Callum joining him while Duncan stood at my side with an arm around me—to comfort me or to comfort himself, I could not say.

  We saw the two dragons stop. They had found something. My heart was in my mouth as I watched MacKenzie lift Alistair's naked, human body from the carnage and lay him before us. He and Callum swiftly shifted back into human as I laid my ear against Alistair's lips.

  "He's still breathing!"

  He was, but it was a slow, unsteady, rattling sound. His body was covered with injuries, blood trickling from them, but worst of all was his chest, into which was buried the broken claw of a drake, puncturing his lung.

  "Can he heal?" I asked, desperately.

  MacKenzie shook his head. "There's too much. His body hasn't enough blood left in it to heal damage like this."

  "You can heal him though, can't you?" They had healed me, albeit to a much lesser degree. And they had healed Alistair before, surely they could do it again now.

  "Not with that thing in his chest." MacKenzie's eyes were on the drake claw. "If we try now, then his chest would close around it. It would become part of him and his lungs would never heal."

  "Can we take it out?" Duncan's voice sounded feeble, devoid of all its usual energy.

  "He'll bleed out," said Callum, somberly.

  "I don't know," MacKenzie snapped, fire in his voice. "If we get him back to the castle maybe we could take it out and heal him there."

  "That'll be too late,” Duncan snapped. “His body will heal around it and he could die anyway or worse, be maimed for life and unable to fly.”

  I didn’t need to be told that was a fate worse than death to them.

  “If we take it out, it has to be now,” Callum said.

  I looked at Alistair. The thought of losing him was more than I could bear. But everything I knew about him, everything I had learned in the short period of our acquaintance, and everything I had felt since we had blood-bonded, told me that this was the only way. He would want us to take the risk. And his brothers were not in the right state of mind to make the call.