Dance of the Dragon Sorceress [Tangere Tales 3]

by Heather Rainier

  The blush filling Elaina’s cheeks was enchanting, and then she giggled. “You just want me to stay so you can see me naked again.”

  Both men burst into laughter, and Rainger was grateful for her sense of the humorous, but he nodded. “Yes, to be honest.” Elaina’s chortling tapered off as she looked up at them, and Rainger added, “You are needed and wanted here on many levels, not the least of which is that we have fallen under your spell.”

  Her smile was blinding, and then she jumped and giggled as though she’d been startled. Looking toward the dragon as he swooped by, she shouted, “See you down there!”

  “What is it?” Rainger asked, knowing that Zayrgrud must’ve been communicating telepathically with her. She took to the gift with extraordinary ease, and he thought that might have to do with the strength of her bond with Zayrgrud. Rainger also knew it meant their time alone with her was drawing to a close.

  “Flappy says that Lord Violet is releasing him for the day. He’s starving, and I didn’t have any breakfast.”

  “You should’ve said something. We would’ve taken you downstairs to eat before absconding with you.”

  “Given the choice between missing a meal, which I can certainly afford to do, and being absconded with, I’ll choose absconding every time. Thank you for this,” she said, indicating her surroundings as they returned up the steps the way they’d come.

  Basile shouldered the bag and said, “May I ask you something?” He offered her his arm as they mounted the steep stairs.

  “Of course.”

  “Why do you carry your backpack everywhere with you? I understand that you want to be prepared, and that you seem to have whatever you need within this bag, just at the moment when you need it. But why carry it all around the abbey with you? We would take care of all your needs, no matter what they might be. There’s no need to carry everything with you.”

  Elaina grew quiet as they climbed the steps, concentrating on her footing and her breathing, and when they reached the terrace, she paused to catch her breath and to take in the view once more. “When I was little, we lived in this old rambling mansion of a house. It was our family home for generations and…” She chuckled, and longing came into her eyes. “It was amazing. My great-great-great grandfather was the one who purchased the surrounding land and built the original structure. It was built of wood in the Victorian era and had all these sections that my grandfathers had added on over the years, which gave it this kind of outlandish appeal. To a little girl who loved exploring, it was fascinating, with all its rooms and hallways, attics, crawl spaces, and hidey-holes under stairs. I absolutely loved it.”

  “It sounds captivating.”

  “It was. And my father and grandfather were passionate about keeping it up and contributing their own touches to it. They would tell me that one day it would be mine, and I couldn’t wait to continue the tradition. I wanted to fill it full of kids and family.”

  “You want children someday?”

  “As many as I can have. I love kids, babies, even teenagers. Anyway, as you can imagine, over the years, as family members were added or came and went, the place filled up with furniture. My grandmothers amassed this…” She chuckled, but the sound came out more like a sob. “They had this collection of glassware and china. There was one room devoted to displaying some of it, and on sunny days, it was blinding if you had the drapes open. There was art deco lighting, Tiffany lamps, art on the walls. I know I’m starting to sound like a curator for a museum, but it was just really something to see. And the cool thing was that my parents didn’t get caught up in owning a historical landmark filled with millions of dollars’ worth of stuff. Our house was a home in the best sense. It just had housed several generations of the White family, who were a tight-knit bunch.”

  “You must miss it, and them, very much.”

  Surprising them, she sat down on the top step and wrapped her arms around her knees. They joined her on either side. “The original structure had old-fashioned wiring, for electricity…for lighting and to deliver power to the house. Anyway, it was the old-fashioned kind that was installed after the house had been built. They’d replaced most of it in subsequent renovations, but not all of it. With each addition, it increased the load on that wiring, which just couldn’t handle it, and there was a fire.”

  Rainger put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.

  “The whole place went up like a box of matches.”

  “Like a what?”

  “Like kindling. Fast and hot, and we lost everything except the clothing we were wearing. I’ll never forget standing in the front yard outside, in my bare feet and pajamas, watching it burn and then crumble to ash.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Eight.”

  “Was your family safe?”

  “Yes. My grandparents were really old by that time, and they had to be hospitalized for severe smoke inhalation. Their health deteriorated, and within a couple of years, they passed away.”

  Rainger’s heart ached because he could hear the tears in her voice. “I’m so sorry, Elaina.”

  She cleared her throat and gave them a wry smile. “My parents rebuilt on the same land, a smaller home, but their hearts weren’t in continuing the tradition after they lost my grandparents. I lost them both to cancer a few years ago. To this day, I wonder if the fire wasn’t the root cause of their deaths, too. There were all kinds of non-compliant or not-up-to-code materials that were used on the house over the years. Sorry, I know some of that doesn’t make any sense. I’m just rambling.”

  “And the memory of standing there watching your home be destroyed stayed with you?” Rainger asked, indicating the backpack.

  “I guess so. It’s not like I had to do without anything, once the shock had passed. We had insurance, and everything was covered. But still, we lost things that can never be replaced, like photographs and lithographs. One of my grandfathers was an author and preacher, and we lost all of his original handwritten manuscripts and sermons.”

  “What a terrible loss.”

  “Nothing can undo it. And it taught me that most things can be replaced. People cannot. So, I’ve learned over the years to be prepared because you never know when a Swiss army knife, a mandala, a Ziploc bag, and a sack of candy might come in handy. It’s also why I could understand how you felt about your home in the castle being destroyed.” She sniffled as she removed a tiny brown bottle from the interior of her backpack, removed the top, and inhaled deeply and smiled before offering the bottle to him. “It’s an essential oil. Spearmint always makes me happy.”

  He inhaled cautiously and then nodded. In her possession she contained the pressed oil of a medicinal plant. It must’ve cost a fortune or been a tremendous amount of work to produce.

  Basile took the bottle when he handed it to him and sniffed cautiously before smiling. He gave it back to her and said, “Is that why you fainted when you found out that Zayrgrud will be a fire breather?”

  She shook her head. “After the big fire, my father noticed I was scared when it was time to set a campfire the next time we went camping. We talked about it while we gathered firewood, and he taught me how to start a campfire the old fashioned way, making sparks with flint rocks. That gets boring fast, by the way. We roasted marshmallows over the fire I was finally able to start. Working through all of that, he reminded me that fire could help. It wasn’t only destructive. I love camping, and not being able to handle having a campfire would be a detriment, you know? And what made me faint was finding out that Flappy is a dragon—an entirely reasonable reaction. Given the circumstances we’re in, I consider his ability to breathe fire a plus, as long as he doesn’t set my hair on fire. Let’s go eat,” she said as she rose from her seat and held out her hands to them. “The others are probably wondering where we are by now.”

  When they got downstairs, they found Fermin in the kitchen looking confused. Two pies sat cooling on the big worktable, and he stood there clad in homes
pun and Tiggi’s big apron.

  “Fermin, what’s wrong?” Elaina asked as she cast a gaze around. There were no pots hanging over the cook fire in the hearth and no bread baking in Tiggi’s oven.

  He took a couple of breaths and made a false start at explaining before he finally said, “Miss Tiggi made these pies, and then she told me she didn’t feel good and went to lay down. That was over an hour ago, and she hasn’t come back. I just came in to take the pies out when Vert and Orange came through and told me everyone would be in soon to eat, but there is nothing prepared for you.”

  Rainger said, “No worries. Come with me, Fermin, and we’ll see what she has in her cooler in the cellar. Some smoked fish and dried beef, with some of the apples that were delivered to the abbey yesterday, will be fine.”

  The apples sat on the worktable in a big bowl, looking tempting and shiny. Elaina reached for one and offered it to Basile and took another to peel with the little red-handled folding knife she carried in her backpack. Her Swiss army knife, she called it.

  “All right, sir. Poor Tiggi must work herself to a frazzle around here to be tired during the day,” he said as he followed him out of the room.

  Fermin grabbed a lantern, and Rainger followed him into the cellar. The man said, “I want to thank you again, sir, for speaking up for me so they’d take me in. Considering that I was the one sent to the abbey to abscond with the dragon mite, were he to show up, it was a tall order for them to forgive.”

  “Basile and I have both been under Draconia’s spell at one point or another. Hunting dragons for her would’ve killed what spirit I had left, and she fully intended on making Basile king and chief among the dragon huntsmen if she’d had her way. I’m glad to help.” What he left unsaid was the fact that she’d have eventually had to kill him. Even under her spell, his soul had known she was lying about the dragons being their enemy.

  “I know how Draconia is, and how much power she possesses. I was surprised, considering how badly beaten you were that you were able to make it back to us.”

  “To be honest, sir, I am, too. She gets in your head and messes about so. I assume I wandered, and my feet carried me back to the only home I’ve known since my parents passed. At least that’s what Tiggi thinks. She’s a wonder, that woman is.”

  “You don’t remember how you got back to the abbey after she did what she did to you?”

  “No, sir,” Fermin said with a shake of his head as he inspected the contents of the well-stocked shelves. “I’m grateful for your lady, as well, sir. She’s a woman who knows her own mind, she is.” He tapped his head. “I remember things when I’m in my tangere form. I was a stinking reeking mess, and obnoxious to boot and she was kind to me. And she cleaned me up and doctored me when I was helpless.”

  He looked askance at his fingernails, painted a lurid color she insisted was Atomic Orange. “Not sure if I will get used to having these but she said she could remove it for me if I didn’t like it.” He glanced at Rainger with puzzlement, as if there was any question about the matter. “Here we go.” He took a basket from the shelf and filled it with pieces of dried beef and fish. “Here’s another nice salmon for His Highness, Zayrgrud. Think he will prefer it cooked?”

  “I think not, Fermin. He’s growing so fast and likely so hungry he’ll eat it whole and raw without much hesitation.”

  Fermin shuddered and then chuckled. “I owe him a lot, as well. We can slice some of those apples up in the kitchen and have them along with the meat and some bread. That’d be tasty.”

  “I think you missed your calling, Fermin.”

  Fermin’s cheeks took on a reddish tinge. “Tiggi said I’m as handy with a knife and a grill fork as my tangere was at exterminating rats. She said she likes me better this way.”

  “Think she fancies you—as a man, I mean?” Rainger added with a chuckle as he took the heaped basket from Fermin so he could fill another.

  “Well, she hasn’t said as much, sir, but she’s making mighty inroads if that saying about the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is true. I’m feeling fitter than I have in all the time I lived at the palace.”

  “You’re away from Draconia’s magic.”

  “And no longer doing all the things she forced me to do. I feel ashamed…often…that I couldn’t withstand her better.”

  “She is vain and petty and spends so much time fawning in front of her mirror it’s easy to forget the power she wields.”

  “There have been no new dragonlings brought to her since the one she consumed a few nights ago…when she tortured me.”

  “Do you think that’s because of dwindling numbers of offspring?”

  “I wonder if it doesn’t mean the dragon huntsmen still under her command have become less willing. Could they be struggling under her yoke?”

  Rainger had wondered about that very thing himself. “Or fighting against her powers? I saw the truth behind her story of the dragon attack on Coeur du Ciel, but they believed her story. I don’t see how they could withstand her power since they believe the dragons to be our enemies.”

  “Still, if you could fight against her, maybe others who admired you and followed you have lost faith in the dragon huntsmen’s cause.”

  “It could be, I suppose.”

  Fermin frowned and leaned over to look back at the stairs and looked under the shelves and in the shadows. He put his finger to his lips and handed him the basket and then lunged for the table in the corner. When he came up, he grasped a long-tailed rat in his hand. The red-eyed beast squirmed in his meaty grasp on its tail but couldn’t gain enough leverage to bite him.

  “Disgusting,” Rainger muttered.

  Fermin waggled a brow and said, “That’s not all. I’ve been waiting for this bugger to show up.” He lifted a hand and flicked his middle finger with his thumb, rapping the rodent on its greasy head and executing a skilled grab when the beast suddenly transformed into a small man with a definite rodent-like appearance.

  “I knew that was you, ya bastard.” Fermin gave him a good shake and nodded his thanks to Rainger as he found a means to restrain him, tying his dirt-crusted wrists behind his back with a length of rope. “Rainger, this toe-cheese-reeking, rat-faced, anus-snuffling cretin is Soren Hindcrack. He is chief informant to Queen Draconia and enforcer of her tangeres. Careful of him, for she possesses his mind and can speak through him.”

  “She’s gaining in power if she can speak through him so soon after her defeat yesterday,” Rainger murmured, staring at Soren with disgust. His teeth were yellowed and crooked, the overbite pronounced like a rat’s, and his odor was indeed sour.

  The intruder growled, an odd rippling sound, which Fermin cut off with a squeeze of his fist around the creature’s neck as he said, “Why are you here?”

  “Eat my ass, traitor,” the intruder said, licking his lips and making yummy sounds until Fermin squeezed a little tighter. He shifted his glower to Rainger.

  Rainger came closer and said, “There’s a mighty dragon upstairs, as you probably already know from your survey of the abbey. We’d be more than happy to give you to him. Rather than eat you, he’d delight in reducing you to ashes.”

  “You can only wish, traitor to the dragon huntsman. I’ve already made my report to Her Majesty, Our Most Gracious Angelic Savior, Draconia. That pitiful band of misfits will make perfect sacrifices, starting with the three upstairs. You know what they say about an apple a day—” He suddenly blinked out of existence, leaving his rank odor behind and a distant cackling laughter.

  Fermin looked at his hand in disgust and grabbed a rag to wipe it with. “That bastard, I knew he’d do that. It was just a question of how long he’d stay. That laughter gives me shudders just hearing it.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. And if he heard what we were saying about the huntsmen, then she’ll know, too.”

  Fermin’s grimace transformed into a frown of confusion. “Sir, Soren’s comment about the apples…and that laughter. It makes me th
ink…”

  “What?”

  Fermin’s features became serious. “I remember the way she laughs. That rusty cackling that makes her sound much older than she looks and the scent of apples. Sir, where did you say the apples came from?”

  “The delivery was left outside by the gate at the same time…they found you!”

  Fermin’s eyes widened. “The pies! Tiggi!”

  “Elaina!”

  They charged up the stairs and bottlenecked in the doorway. Elaina laughed at them, chewing and swallowing a big bite from the bright red apple in her hand, and said, “You called? I was just telling Basile—”

  The twinkle in her eyes dimmed like a lantern that had been abruptly extinguished. She tumbled from the bench she’d been sitting on, and Basile barely caught her before her head smacked into the stone floor. He looked at the apple in his hand, with a bite missing from it, and then fell beside her.

  “No!” Rainger shouted as he jumped the table. “Bleu, get Lord Violet! Indigo, help Fermin try to awaken Tiggi! Orange, don’t let anyone touch those apples or the pies! They’ve been poisoned!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zayrgrud the Terrifying strode beside his mentor and instructor, Lord Violet, as they made their way back from the cavern he’d soon call home for the duration of his training. When Elaina had first brought him to the abbey, he’d been confused about this choice of stronghold. Considering his rapid rate of growth, the wide hallways and corridors and tall archways and openings made much more sense.

  A sensation of unease tugged deep in his chest, and he quickened his pace. Lord Violet didn’t complain. Instead he hastened his to match.

  “Something troubles you?” Lord Violet murmured.

  It’s difficult to explain, but yes.

  “I feel it, too.”

  He couldn’t hear Elaina anywhere, even with his attuned dragon hearing. The happy twinkle that represented his telepathic connection with his human mother, Elaina, abruptly winked out, without any kind of warning. His heart skipped a beat, and he stumbled.