by Riley Storm
“Thank you,” she called, having to speak up to be heard over the wind. “We’ll land there, at the main courtyard.”
There was no point in trying to get them to land anywhere else. They would have been spotted by sentries and students alike at this point, and if there was one thing on this earth that couldn’t be contained, it was the rumor mill. Word would spread faster than wildfire and soon, the entire Academy would know about the dragons.
They spiraled lower, the big dragons having to work harder to control themselves. The walls of Winterspell were long and winding, but the buildings within were huge. Towers thrust up into the sky, coming to pointed peaks in a random pattern as the multiple castle-like main buildings broke up the landscape.
For Anna and the other trio of Initiates with her, it was easy, their elemental steeds diving among the spires and under archways, nimble and quick, not needing more than a little guidance from their riders to reach the courtyard.
The dragons came in one at a time. Damien landed first, spreading his wings wide and coming to a halt with pinpoint precision. Anna found herself staring at him, marveling at his control.
Altair touched down next, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were locked onto Damien, unable to tear her eyes away from his dragon form.
“So majestic…”
“Patrol Leader?”
She turned to see Initiate Bowen looking at her with intense interest.
“Nothing,” she said, trying to ignore the glittery shine of delight in the other woman’s eyes.
Damien folded his wings in tight and began to change. As he did, a swirl of cloud and mist wrapped itself around him. Biting her lip, Anna knew what was going on in the cloud.
After he resumed his human form, Damien would be naked. She’d found that out when he’d casually stripped down in front of her out in the mountains. Just as if it was nothing. She’d watched dry-mouthed as he handed his clothes to one of the kids.
His dick was just swinging there below his ripped stomach and powerful chest like it was the most common thing in the world. So thick and—
She shook her head, focusing on the situation at hand, even if her brain refused to stop displaying the image mentally. It was a lovely memory, and one she would probably always associate with him, but right now she needed to focus on what to do with Damien.
Not that, she snapped as her brain presented her with a list of options it thought was a good idea. None of them were relevant.
The mist cleared and Damien stood straight and tall, taking in all the grandeur that was Winterspell Academy, even as he was greeted with hushed sounds and gasps of surprise. His clothes were back on, courtesy again of one of the dragon children having run into the cloud. Things were going to be awkward enough just bringing him back. Anna didn’t need to add excessive male nudity to the mix!
People were filing out of all the buildings now to see the newcomers as word spread, and those lucky enough to witness the transformation of the two dragons began speaking quickly to those nearest them, as if seeking confirmation that what their eyes had just seen was true.
A matronly voice interrupted the proceedings. “What is the meaning of this? What is going on here?”
Anna groaned silently, wishing that anyone else would have been the first out onto the courtyard field, but that just wasn’t her luck.
“Master Loiner,” she said respectfully, greeting the magic professor.
“Initiate Sturgis. Explain yourself.”
Before Anna could get the chance, Initiate Bowen jumped in front of her.
“During the patrol, we came across these creatures. Initiate Sturgis thought it was a good idea to bring them back here. I said we should have killed them and sent them back to the Abyss,” she proclaimed proudly, turning an angry glare on Anna.
Master Loiner’s stare hardened. She didn’t reprimand Bowen for speaking out of turn like most Masters would have. Just like Initiate Bowen, Master Loiner did not like Anna. Not one bit.
“Is this true?” the Master asked, eyes flicking over Anna’s shoulders as heavy bootfalls indicated the approach of Damien.
“It is,’ she said, somehow finding a backbone that always seemed to run and hide when she was confronted. “There is a situation here. We must talk to the Coven immediately. All of Earth is in danger.”
Master Loiner might have it out for Anna, but she was no idiot. She knew that Anna wouldn’t call such attention to herself or the situation unless she thought it was truly warranted. Especially not with so many witnesses.
“The Coven, you say?” the master asked with devious delight sparkling deep in her eyes.
“It is most urgent,” Damien interrupted. “Your people need to know what is going on. They must be prepared.”
Master Loiner took Damien in, sizing him up. “Very well. But know that if you make one false move, we will incinerate you before you can take another breath. Is that understood, stranger?”
Anna heard the massive dragon shifter inhale sharply at the blatant threat.
“We understand,” she said, throwing herself between the two of them verbally before the confrontation got worse. “He is my responsibility.”
“Then, to the Coven’s Chambers with you. I will notify them of your imminent arrival,” Master Loiner said, more than happy to let Anna dig her own grave.
Damien opened his mouth to speak, but Anna grabbed him by the arm, trying desperately not to enjoy the way his biceps felt under her fingers.
“Come on,” she hissed. “We have to go. Now.”
Damien followed along reluctantly, but she could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Do they always treat you like that” he asked, his voice a deep masculine growl.
Anna shrugged, trying to maintain her composure. She hadn’t had much exposure to boys or men since coming to Winterspell at age thirteen. The lack of magic in almost all men meant that her experiments had been limited to the boys of Elk Pines during her infrequent trips to the human settlement.
Now she had Damien here next to her, a very considerable male, who simply exuded power, strength and masculinity in a manner that was intoxicating, impressive, almost overwhelming, and most definitely more than a little distracting. Her body was betraying her private thoughts even as she begged it to stop, to stay calm.
“Not all of them,” she said, answering his question. “But some think that I don’t belong here. Like Master Loiner and her brown-nosing sycophant Initiate Bowen.”
The words came out harsher than intended, and Anna felt a touch of embarrassment at airing her dirty laundry to someone she’d just met. She didn’t need to burden him with her issues. What he was dealing with was far more serious than a simple case of someone not liking her. She would need to remember that.
“Why wouldn’t you belong?” Damien wanted to know as he followed her through a series of turns and stairs down into the heart of the larger of the two castle-like buildings that made up most of Winterspell.
“I wasn’t born with the same level of power as most of the other students,” she said. “I’ve had to study hard and work even harder to achieve what I have, and I guess they’re resentful of that fact.”
Damien snorted.
“What?”
“They’re not resentful of your hard work,” he explained. “They’re resentful that you’re making them look bad, because if they put in the same effort, they would be able to do far more themselves.”
Anna considered that. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Maybe.”
They arrived at a set of closed doors made of purest platinum, shiny even in the dim light of the corridor.
“We’re here,” she said. “The Coven’s Chambers.”
“What is beyond those doors?” Damien asked uneasily.
“The ruling body of Winterspell. The most powerful witches in the area,” she said, her voice tight.
Anna had never been in front of the Coven before.
“Is this a good thing that we’re seeing them?” D
amien asked, sounding completely unruffled.
“That depends—” Anna wasn’t able to finish her sentence.
The doors were opening.
Chapter Seven
Damien
Following Anna’s lead, he walked through the doors and into the room beyond.
It was circular, and relatively small. He’d been expecting some grand throne room, but this was much smaller and more intimate. Made entirely from stone, he could pick out the individual pieces in the walls around him.
A semi-circle of raised seats sat behind a raised stone wall on the far side of the chamber. A little staircase split them with six to his right, and seven to his left. Damien wasn’t sure what the significance of the asymmetry was, but he felt there was one. All his senses were tingling, telling him that this chamber was full of power.
Magic. They call it magic here, and they can control it in ways we can’t.
Even as he watched, figures materialized in the seats. Only one of them emerged from a side chamber and used the stairs to take her seat.
“Initiate Anna, you have summoned the Coven.”
The voice spoke without warning and came from everywhere all at once. It was an impressive trick, but Damien did little more than shift his attention from Anna to the assembled group in front of him.
“Yes, Circe, I did,” Anna said, addressing the sole figure who had come in under their own power.
Damien frowned at the others. Were they actually present, he wondered, or was this more magic? They didn’t quite look real.
“Why?”
“I was out on patrol of the northern mountains today,” she began. “When I came across something most unusual. After further investigation, I knew that I must bring news of it to you, so that the Coven may be informed and make a decision. I am…I am out of my depth,” she admitted. “This is bigger than me.”
“Wise of you to seek help when you are unsure,” the same voice said, though this time it was more localized to the figure in attendance.
Circe, she’d call the woman in the robe, hood pulled far forward to hide her features. Damien didn’t know what that signified, but it seemed to be a title of respect. The leader of them all, perhaps.
“Thank you, Circe. May I continue?”
The figure gestured for her to go on. Damien didn’t pay much attention; after all, he’d been there, he’d lived through the events of the past few hours, and then some. He’d seen yet one more of his kin fall to the Infected, to the enemy they couldn’t even see. What more use did he have for listening to the story of Milon’s brave sacrifice yet again? All it would do is tear at his heart once more.
He did look at the thirteen figures arrayed in front of him. All had on black robes with hoods that prevented him from seeing inside. Looking upon Circe, he tried to peer into the shadows, but even his dragon sight couldn’t penetrate them enough to give him more than a glimpse of her eyes.
As if she sensed what he was doing, Circe’s head turned slightly to focus on him, granting Damien another peek at twin orbs of golden light hidden deep within the recesses of her hood. He stared back, but without defiance or anger. A simple statement that he was aware of her gaze, and wasn’t going to back down, but neither was he trying to challenge her.
“You are not a creature of Earth. Nor are you of the Abyss,” Circe—the Circe, he wondered—said abruptly, interrupting Anna.
“No.” Damien didn’t offer more right away. What was the Abyss? Did these people have access to other worlds? Maybe they could help him find a way home to Dracia…
“You are no Faerie. No god. Not a ghost or a spirit. Neither demon nor angel, of that I am convinced,” Circe went on, her head shifting slightly under the hood as she studied him.
“I am Damien. I am Dracian.” He watched carefully but detected absolutely no sign of recognition at his name.
Circe leaned forward. “You are from another planet.”
“Yes. Dracia.”
Beside him, Anna remained silent but watchful. He could feel her eyes on him, and wanted to look over at her, to reassure her that it would be okay, but he didn’t. Now would be a bad time for that, he sensed.
The Coven didn’t like what he was telling them. There wasn’t much body language for him to pick up on, but the little that the figures did move didn’t seem overly positive.
How could he blame them, though? Here he was, a refugee from a destroyed planet come to their territory with tales of horror and an enemy that could not be stopped.
And he’d just so conveniently left the portal open behind him. It wasn’t like they would welcome that with open arms.
“What do you want from Earth?” Circe asked at long last.
“A home,” he said painfully. “Ours is gone. We are few in number, and just wish to survive. That is all.”
“And the enemy you have brought with you?”
“Dead,” he said, looking at Anna at long last. “The threat has been contained thanks to your…I believe you call her an Initiate? She ensured that any last remnants were taken care of.”
Anna shuddered at the memory and he reached up to squeeze her shoulder in support. That action seemed to elicit a response from some of the Coven members, at least three of whom shifted in their seats. Damien dropped his arm. Why did that bother them so much?
“You came here running from a war. A war you brought to our doorstep. And you expect us just to welcome you?”
Damien held his tongue, trying not to lash out at the callous abbreviation of a situation far more complex than that.
“We just wish to recover somewhere that we won’t be hunted. Where we won’t be forced to kill someone who the week before was a brother, mother, sister or uncle. A sense of security.” He swept his gaze across the Coven, feeling their judgment and shunting it aside. “We don’t expect handouts. We will work for it. You will find us strong and hardy, and with gifts that will aid you, I am sure.”
Circe folded her arms across her chest, leaning back in her chair.
“What makes you think we need your help? That we can afford to shelter you?”
“Then point us in a direction of those who can,” he countered.
“Why shouldn’t we send you back?”
It was a fair question, and he wasn’t hurt by it.
“Because you can’t,” he said bluntly. “The way is nearly closed.”
“Yes, nearly. As Initiate Sturgis has indicated, that means it could be opened again. Is this true?”
He winced. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Do any of your people know about this portal?”
“Maybe Rokh,” he said. “But he and the others have split up, moving deeper into the mountains. I don’t know where they went.”
The Coven fell silent at this. He saw heads turning this way and that, but no sound reached him.
“They’ve put up a sound barrier,” Anna whispered out of the corner of her mouth, sensing his confusion. “They want to talk without us hearing.”
“Oh. How do you think it’s going?” he asked, curious as to her thoughts. He thought Anna a wonderfully intelligent woman and found himself leaning on her for insight and feedback already.
“Um. Hard to tell,” she said. “I really don’t know. They’re not the most communicative bunch with us lowly Initiates.”
Damien resolved to find out just what the hierarchy of Winterspell was as soon as he could. He suspected that Anna wasn’t as low-ranking as she made herself out to be, but rather that she suffered a bit of low self-esteem because of her lack of natural strength. It was something he wished she would realize was probably an asset, as it had sharpened her mind more than many of her peers.
Something about the language of the Coven told him they were done conversing. He stood up straight and faced Circe head on, waiting to hear their pronouncement.
“We will grant your people sanctuary.”
Damien sagged in relief, unable to hide his gratefulness.
“But,�
� the Circe said, raising one hand. The sleeve of the robe fell back to reveal a slim hand, dark olive skin ending at five perfectly manicured nails.
Covering his surprise that it wasn’t an ancient crone under the hood, Damien nodded for her to continue.
“We will not give you free rein. We simply cannot at this point in time. Not until we know more about you. A section of the secondary tower will be turned over to your people. You will be confined to that and certain other areas and expected to obey other rules completely and thoroughly.”
Damien frowned. It wasn’t ideal, but what choice did he have?
“What are those rules?” he asked.
“No changing into your animal forms without advance notice. It wreaks havoc on our organization and distracts the students from their tasks.”
“Agreed,” he said, seeing no need to argue. “What else?”
“We understand you have powers. You will not use them on any students, witches or other guests.”
“Of course.”
“Finally, there will be no fraternizing between your kind and ours.”
Damien frowned.
“We note that most of you are men. In fact, we are unaware of any women with your party.”
“Some came through,” he said. “But our female population was decimated early in the war. Many who remained stayed behind after the loss of their young. It was…tough for them to imagine carrying on.”
“Even so,” Circe said forcefully, pausing briefly to indicate she understood his pain. “You will refrain from any actions with the members of Winterspell Academy. Is that understood?”
Damien thought it an arbitrary rule, unnecessary and confining. He wanted to rage against it, to tell them to go suck on a frost dragon’s icicle. His dragon was bellowing its anger inside.
Why am I so bothered by this? It’s easy to adhere to, a nothing rule, really. We’re here to survive, that’s all. Get your act together, Damien.
“Very well, I will make sure word gets around,” he said. “Thank you so much for your generosity. It means more than you can ever know.”
Circe nodded. “Just see that you repay it with proper manners, as must any of your other kin that make it here.”