by Chant, Zoe
The green dragon fell away from the battle with a final jet of flame and tumbled into a shallow glide to land in the turbulent pool, shifting into human form as he hit the surface and sank.
Saina left the questionable shelter of the rubble of the bar, scrambled down the broken steps and dived fearlessly after him, nearly falling as the wind howled against her.
Scarlet had no attention to spare for them, or for any of the people she loved as dearly. All of her focus was on the battle above as she coiled in wait.
Chapter 29
Mal felt his exhaustion burn away as Scarlet—his amazing, brilliant Scarlet—re-filled his wells of magic with her pure, elemental power. He was going to pay for this soon enough, he knew, but the important thing was that he had it now. He had a chance again to fulfill his destiny.
The wyrm was not convinced of that truth, snarling and fighting with all its considerable strength against Mal’s claws.
You cannot beat me, one of the heads snarled.
I do not have to beat you, Mal retorted. Not by himself.
They were in the belly of the storm now, and Mal’s wings could not keep him steady in the raging winds. But he wasn’t trying to fly, he wasn’t even trying to fight. He wrapped a strong tail around the wyrm’s throat and let himself tumble towards the ground with sudden, enchanted mass, dragging his adversary with him as the feathers scraped uselessly on Mal’s magic-hardened scales.
They didn’t fall for long; the wyrm was stronger than Mal’s dead weight, and its surprise at Mal’s action didn’t last.
But they didn’t have to fall far.
They had been fighting high over the tops of the whipping trees of the island, Mal trying hard not to think of Scarlet’s tree and the damage it must be taking as huge branches and whole trees were pulled up into the maelstrom.
Now they were just brushing those treetops and as the wyrm gathered itself to spring higher and unleash his anger from above, the rainforest itself came to life.
Green vines whipped up into the storm and wrapped themselves around the sinuous feathered creature. He broke them easily at first, verdant leaves spiraling up into his storm, but more followed, and more, and more, folding down his feathers, dragging him down into the upper canopy, where thick branches stretched and grew into giant, grasping fingers.
The wyrm thrashed, uprooting entire trees and snapping branches, but the sheer number of trees against him saw him pinned, utterly unable to break free. His wind howled, and his rain drove hard against them, but the jungle was unified against him, and Mal set himself into a dive from above.
Ignoring the wind that tore at his scales, Mal set himself upon the wyrm, driving it further down towards the earth. He roared the names of the runes into the storm and the marks on his front legs flared with power as the bars of the new cage rose from the earth to meet them.
The wyrm, thrashing now like a pinned snake, gave a cry of desperate fury. His wind raged, ripping trees from their roots and smashing them down in every direction. His feathers sliced into thick trunks and severed branches.
Mal wasn’t sure where they were, how close they were to Scarlet’s vulnerable tree, but he made a split-second hesitation at the thought of it.
The hesitation broke his concentration and, for a moment, the wyrm was free. It slipped between the half-formed bars to slither towards the resort itself.
Mal wasn’t sure if it was seeking a place with fewer trees to hold it, or if he knew the value of the shifters huddled in the ruins to the combatants and hoped to use them as hostages. Mal was after him again in a heartbeat as he coiled out of the jungle and smashed through the cottages that were still standing. Broken glass and roof tiles swirled up into the wind, bouncing harmlessly off of Mal as he blocked the wyrm’s escape to the sky with a shield more vast than any he had ever managed before.
Trees exploded up from the ground and potted plants burst their vessels as they instantly grew and grasped at the two-headed wyrm, tying it to the ground.
Mal spoke the words of power again and dropped down onto the wyrm, pressing it down into the earth again as the glimmering bars rose up around them.
The wyrm thrashed and the ground shook and rumbled from the force of its struggle.
A scream made Mal realize that the battered restaurant was beginning to groan and collapse and Scarlet’s ragged staff fled from the bar where they’d been sheltered.
The wyrm, in one final, vindictive effort, chose the most helpless of the creatures before it, and sucked in breath for a last blast of wind.
“Get down!” Scarlet cried in a great voice. “Hold on!” All of them automatically dropped to the shivering ground to cover their heads from the flying debris...
...All of them except Conall, who was not touching Gizelle and could not hear the warning.
Scarlet’s shroud of greenery rose moments too late; the wyrm’s gust caught the musician square in the chest and swept him backwards into the crumbling building.
The musician hit one of the columns, so hard that the terrible crunch of his breaking bones was louder than the storm. Jagged pieces of the restaurant deck rained down like hail over his still form.
Mal did not have to wonder if he had survived the impact; Gizelle’s scream of agony and loss would haunt his dreams forever: a thin wail of despair that threaded the music of the storm like a harmony.
The wyrm, mistakenly thinking that this distraction had bought it escape, made another bid for freedom, to face Mal bristling in new rage.
We will cage you again and bury you deep! his dragon swore. We will fulfill our destiny!
You are nothing! the wyrm snarled.
You cannot defeat us! the other head protested.
The feathered wyrm struck out with its tail, and the earth shuddered and groaned, but when it tried to lift it for a second strike, there were new trees and bushes pinning it, its entire body and both necks were being wrapped in leaves and branches like a great green cast as Scarlet unleashed her forest on him.
The storm continued to rage, but the monster was caught.
Mal landed and shifted to human form to perform the final stages of the cage.
Chapter 30
The wyrm snarled, struggling against the vines that were rising from the island. The gleaming bars Mal was building around it were semi-transparent and too far apart to hold it in, but as he chanted, the cage began to solidify and condense upon the captured monster.
Scarlet, concentrating fiercely on keeping the creature subdued and already distracted by another task, was suddenly surprised as something small dashed beside her down the steps to where Mal was facing the feathered heads.
“Gizelle, no!”
Scarlet’s first thought was that Gizelle was mad with grief and wanted revenge on the creature that had killed Conall. “Gizelle, wait!”
But the slight woman wasn’t trying to get through the bars of the cage to the wyrm in some fit of rage, she was leaping at Mal.
“No!” the gazelle shifter cried, clinging to his arm and covering his runes. “Stop! You have to stop!”
“I have to do this,” Mal said, trying to pull away from her without harming her. His teeth were gritted and Scarlet could feel the strain he was under; already he had burned through too much of the magical stores she’d refilled, and she could feel the underlying exhaustion. “Gizelle, it’s not a person, it’s a creature of destruction!”
The bars of the cage wavered with his distraction.
Scarlet had half her mind on the forest wrapping the wyrm, re-growing vines and grasping trees as fast as his sharp-edged feathers could cut through them. She flickered to Gizelle’s side, prepared to try to draw her away. “Gizelle...”
“You can’t do this!” Gizelle’s voice was big compared to her little frame, wavering but firm.
“I don’t have a choice,” Mal said between gritted teeth. The runes on his forearms flared, his concentration divided.
“No!” Gizelle wept. “No one deserves to be in
a cage!”
She gave up trying to stop Mal and before Scarlet realized what she was doing, Gizelle had darted between the big bars of the cage to face the wyrm.
Scarlet cried out as the wyrm twisted and opened two sets of giant jaws in Gizelle’s direction, tearing from her trees. “Gizelle, no!” She lost her grip on the vines she was controlling and was suddenly... somewhere else.
She was standing in knee-deep grass, brilliantly lit by nothing at all. Above her, the sky was featureless black: no stars, no sun, no color.
Gizelle stood with her back straight, her slim gazelle shivering at her side. Mal was here, too, his golden dragon towering above his human form, both of them looking around in curious wonder.
And the wyrm was with them, fluttering its blue and green feathers in confusion. It had no human self beside it.
Mal gestured, and spoke a few words that Scarlet didn’t catch, but nothing happened. The wyrm opened his mouths as if he would spit his wind at them... but the grass continued to wave peacefully.
Suspiciously, Scarlet reached out with her own power, calling on the grass to grow... and found that nothing answered.
Gizelle was walking fearlessly forward towards it. “You can run here, always,” she said to it, sounding weary and worn down. It thrashed in fury, but despite its great size, it seemed incapable of harm. When it screamed, even the sound seemed powerless.
Gizelle turned her back on it, facing Mal and Scarlet. “No one belongs in a cage,” she repeated. “Not even that. Better that he stay here, forever and never, until the sky goes dark.”
The wyrm suddenly shifted forms and was a human, with silky, rainbow-dark hair, dressed in soft feathers in peacock blues and greens. “Gizelle,” it said coaxingly. “I have always been your friend. Free me and I will make you a queen! We will make the whole world a place to run and you will rule at my side.”
Scarlet made a small noise of anger and dismay and Mal said flatly, “Don’t listen to him, Gizelle. He was never your friend.”
Gizelle turned to regard the wyrm again, ignoring both of them.
“I was Conall’s queen,” she said mournfully.
“I can bring him back,” the wyrm whispered temptingly in a new voice, stepping close to Gizelle. “I brought him down, and I can bring him back, but only if you free me. Let me go from this place and you will be together again.”
Scarlet could see the quiver in Gizelle’s frame, the hesitation. “No...” she whispered.
“He lies,” Mal told Gizelle firmly. “No one can do that.”
Scarlet bit her lip.
Gizelle turned and looked at them each in turn and then faced the wyrm again. “You’ve always spoken nicely to me, and for a long time, I thought that nice meant good. But you would hurt so many people, and cause so much pain. Even Conall isn’t worth that price. I couldn’t be that selfish.” She stepped closer to it, trembling and fearless at once. “I’m sorry for your hatred and your hunger for destruction. I’m sorry for all your time in a cage, awake and angry. I don’t know if you are capable of happiness, but here there will be no time and you will not suffer.”
The wyrm seemed to gather itself and Scarlet took a step forward to protect Gizelle—if she even needed protecting in this place—and saw Mal do the same.
Then they were suddenly outside again, the storm still whipping around them as they faced the monstrous form of the half-caged wyrm.
The creature was weirdly still, every feather frozen in space; it was the only thing not moving in the wind. Even small rocks skidded across the tiles in the gale.
“We will have to close the door completely,” Mal said, looking at Gizelle in awe. “He will find a way out, if we leave even the tiniest crack. You’ll never be able to go back.”
Gizelle’s shoulders drooped, but she nodded. “I knew that,” she said simply. “But I am done running. Nothing matters that much anymore.” The tearless grief in her face was like a great weight and Scarlet hurt for her.
“He is immortal and can never die,” Mal said gravely. “He will be locked in your place forever in that single moment and I will bury his earthly body. Close the door, Gizelle.”
She looked up at him with trusting eyes. “I don’t know how.”
Chapter 31
Mal gazed down at Gizelle. So much of what she did was instinct, in sharp contrast to his own carefully learned, orderly methods. “I think I can help you,” he offered. “I need a physical anchor. Something that means a lot to you would be best, but anything will do.”
Gizelle’s glance flickered up to the bar deck, where Conall’s body lay half-covered in rubble.
“What about this?”
Mal turned to find that Bastian and Saina had climbed from the crumbling pool, and the dragon shifter, looking rather worse for the wear and leaning heavily on his mate, was holding out an ugly, battered piece of metal.
“I found it when we were fleeing back from Scarlet’s tree,” the lifeguard explained. “My treasure sense went nuts and I had to pick it up.”
Gizelle gave a sigh. “Yes,” she said.
Mal took it, hefting it in his hand. It was a big chunk of metal, clearly a mechanical lock of some kind that had been badly damaged. A hole had been drilled in it, and a carabiner was looped through that hole. A lock had good symbolism, and when he cast his power sight on it—wincing at the effort it took—he was stunned by the emotions it had captured: Neal’s anger and helplessness, Gizelle’s fears and confusion... and Conall’s deep love.
“This is perfect,” he agreed. He put it in Gizelle’s hands. “I want you to picture a large door.”
She closed her eyes obediently.
“Now imagine a deadbolt—do you know what that is?”
Gizelle nodded.
“Good. Imagine that you’ve closed the door, and now you’re locking it. The lock is heavy, like this, and you can hear it shooting home. You might have to press on the door to make the lock fit. And then nothing can get in or out, forever.”
“It’s the end,” Gizelle said quietly.
Mal didn’t need to cast his power sight to confirm her success; Gizelle’s hair suddenly shimmered to pure white and the feathered wyrm bleached of color as if it had turned into pale marble.
Forever.
“You did it,” Mal murmured to Gizelle.
Scarlet, the same exhaustion in her shoulders that Mal felt on his own, let the vines and trees wrapping the creature go slack and turned to account for the rest of her staff. They began to emerge from the rubble they had used as cover as the storm, no longer powered by the wyrm’s wrath, began to die. It was still raining, but was a gentle rain, warm and apologetic.
Two bears, one white and one golden brown, rose to four feet and shook rubble and rain off of them as staff who had sheltered behind them dazedly dusted themselves off.
Gizelle lifted a face tracked with tears and raindrops to look at Mal. “Why am I still here? I don’t remember this...”
“The door is closed,” Mal said wearily. “You’re locked to one time now, like all of us. No more whispers from the future, only memories of the past.”
She made a wordless noise of agony and turned away. “I don’t want to be here. I thought it would end when the door shut.”
She slipped around Mal and climbed up the shattered stairs to where Conall’s body lay crumpled, her white hair a tangled cloak behind her. Jenny let go of Travis to follow her, and after a moment, Lydia gave Wrench a squeeze and trailed after.
Slowly, weary and battered, they all picked their way one by one and two by two through the rubble, standing in a stunned group on the broken tile to gather around Conall.
Mal, feeling empty and exhausted as never before, stood alone for a moment on the bar level.
“Can you heal him?” Scarlet demanded quietly, suddenly at his side.
“He’s dead,” Mal told her. “I can’t do anything about that.”
“I know that,” Scarlet said impatiently. “Can you heal him?
”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Mal said gently. Should he be flattered that she thought him capable of that? He was too tired to feel flattered.
“You have got to stop making assumptions,” she replied with a sigh. “I do not have dominion over earth, Mal.”
“You’re a dryad...” he started.
“And do you see me throwing rocks around or making mountains move?” Scarlet asked scathingly. “Was I even slightly comfortable underground? Did I have any luck controlling dirt? Just because my roots are in earth doesn’t mean I don’t need air, or fire from the sun, or water from the rain. I don’t have any power over dirt or rocks, I make things grow.”
Mal scowled at her in confusion, trying to make sense of what she was trying to tell him.
“My dominion is life, Mal. I can bring Conall back, but it won’t do more than make him suffer needlessly and die again if he can’t also be healed.”
“You can...”
“I can bring him back to life,” she said calmly, as if she was not offering the impossible.
“You’re sure?”
“I caught him as he died,” Scarlet explained. “And I have only been able to hold him here this long because of his bond with Gizelle. We have to hurry, or I will lose him entirely.”
“I can heal him,” Mal said, testing his wells of power cautiously. They were badly drained, and his ability to control it was nearly burned out completely. He had never strained himself like this before, never even dreamed of controlling so much energy. There were a few swirls of magic left and just enough strength in his mind. “I can do that much.”
“Do it then.” Scarlet took his hand and they walked slowly up to where Gizelle was lying curled against Conall’s still side. Lydia and Jenny were sitting on either side of her, offering mute comfort and the rest of the staff was in a loose, grieving semi-circle around them. They had pulled most of the rubble off of Conall, and tried to lay him out in a less unnatural position.
Scarlet took her hand back, but didn’t gesture or chant. She only looked at the fallen shifter and Mal didn’t understand that she was using her power until Conall suddenly took a shuddering breath, groaned, and began to die from his injuries once more.