“Odie?” a woman’s voice called from beyond Draconia’s view. “Is he awake?”
“Trying,” the handsome man said with a most becoming scowl on his face. “Elaina the Interloper, what did you do to our dog?” He lifted a paw, and the woman giggled.
“Are you jealous, Grumpy Cat? I can give you a mani-pedi, too, only I don’t think Atomic Orange is your color.”
“Orange?” another man murmured from the outer edges. “This? This is not orange. This color is…is sickness.”
“It is pretty bright and fluorescent, isn’t it? I finished brushing him out earlier, and it was either style his hair or do his nails.”
“Look at her,” Draconia growled to Vermin. “Show me her face.”
“You have seen already, Eminence,” Vermin moaned. “Please don’t hurt her.”
“That is not for you to demand. Wait! Is that—that is Rainger! And Basile!”
When Vermin had told her the night before that he’d seen Rainger, she hadn’t believed him. Rainger was her favorite, her most trusted huntsman. Never hesitating to do her will. One of the few she’d counted as truly loyal to her. He’d told her what had happened to Basile, and she’d seen as much in the flickers of memory she’d accessed with her mirror while he was telling her. She’d thought him incapable of lying to her. Clearly she’d been tricked. What else had he lied about?
“Attack them! Now!”
“I haven’t the strength, thanks to you and your magic, Eminence.”
She rose from the divan with a swish of her dragonling-skin skirts. “Fine, then I will do it. I needed only to verify for myself.” She’d learned her lesson years before, when she’d executed a whole company of dragon huntsmen for disobedience. She’d gained a good deal of power from their combined life forces as she’d drained them, but capriciousness had cost her a good portion of her force, which she’d had difficulty in replacing, simply because she hadn’t waited for proof of wrongdoing. In this instance, she clearly had that proof. “How dare he turn on me and consort with those outlaws! He hid that bastard princeling from me!”
She shouted to the heavens, invoking her evil magic, hoping she’d rested enough to be able to reach them with her spell. That Basile lived was an abomination to her. The usurper would die, and the Western Kingdom would remain in her tight grasp.
The image of the woman came into sharper focus as Rainger smiled at her. She was a beautiful woman with long, shiny hair the color of night. “Well, she’s going to die, but first things first!”
Throwing one hand skyward, Draconia extended her power to execute Rainger.
The markings on his arms and extending up into his tunic suddenly blazed gold and then turned silver, immobilizing him. The tattoos turned white, and she flung her arm downward. Without a sound, he fell to the floor limp.
The black-haired witch wailed, a sound that made Draconia shiver with delight. The woman fell to her knees at Rainger’s side, her mouth falling open as shock and anguish filled her lovely features. Really? How dare she consort with Draconia’s favorite and not expect swift retribution. The tart.
A moment later Draconia was rocked on her feet as a great noise filled the chamber and even made the glass of her mirror ripple a bit.
Vermin yowled, making her head ache, and a juvenile dragon flung his body with spread wings over Rainger. He raised his head to the heavens and let out a magnificent shriek.
The offspring of Zyrsyrrys the Horrific and Cirruth the Cunning, and the future king of the dragons. She wanted this one so much, even though he was now past his infantile prime. Consuming the power of an heir to the dragon throne would give her enough strength to recover from this entire travesty. And she looked sooo good in green.
The vision continued as the juvenile dragon crouched over the traitor and a glow began to emanate from between his scales. “Flappy, what are you doing?” The woman looked to the scarred warrior, Lord Violet, who was standing nearby. “What’s happening to Rainger?”
Lord Violet whispered something to Basile, and he took the woman by the shoulders to draw her a safe distance away, but she wouldn’t have it.
The young dragon gently nudged her away from Rainger’s sprawled form with his scaly green snout, and then he lay over the man. He couldn’t possibly heal Rainger.
“You can try, infant, but you’re no match for me. Not with as many of your dragonling kin as I’ve consumed over a lifetime.”
Dragons didn’t develop the power to heal others until they were fully grown, and even then it was a tremendously taxing endeavor. As young and inexperienced as he was, he’d kill himself in the attempt.
Beneath its scales, the dragonling glowed silver and then white. The air in the chamber took on a vibration that communicated itself through her mirror it was so powerful. She felt the power of the execution spell drain away as he counteracted the destructive magic of the huntsman’s tattoos.
“Don’t you dare!” she screeched, barely stopping herself from flinging the mirror across her palatial suite, realizing she might have met her match. Unfortunately, she lacked enough remaining power to transport herself there to dispatch Rainger herself. She wasn’t opposed to doing her own dirty work, but her power wasn’t up to her will. She needed to replenish the source of her magic first.
The contingency plan she’d put in place wasn’t as effective as consuming the pristine hearts of baby dragons, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Hurrying to her vanity, she transferred the image in the handheld mirror to the larger surface. She wanted a better look. “This might just work, if the timing is perfect.”
The interloper was simply lovely, with thick, shining black hair, perfect skin, and beautiful, graceful hands. She had red pouting lips that looked as if they’d been kissed hard recently.
Basile whispered to her, tender concern for her in his handsome features. She held tight to him while at the same time reaching out for Rainger as if longing to touch him—like a lover.
Realization dawned. “No!” Draconia’s shout rattled the roof on her chamber and set the whole tower to quaking. The two men Draconia had always wanted in her bed but had never been able to possess were this usurping witch’s lovers. “Both of them! She shall not have them!”
Basile maintained his grip on the woman as she reached for the dragon but fell short by only an inch.
Perhaps she’s adding her power to the dragonling’s?
Draconia watched in horror as the destructive glow in Rainger’s tattoos turned to chalky white and then flaked from his skin like dust, all thanks to the magic of the dragon king’s heir…and that witch.
Draconia poured every bit of malice she had into her tangere, Vermin, knowing she was in for another night of pain, but she didn’t care. She’d take the power however she could get it.
“Eminence, don’t, please! Please-please-pleeeeeeease-oooooooo!”
She fought to gain control of the tangere and attacked the group huddled around the fallen dragon huntsman. Teeth bared, she prepared to lay waste to all of them.
* * * *
Judging by its appearance earlier that morning, Elaina wouldn’t have thought the dog capable of moving from his resting spot by the fireplace. But it limped and stumbled at them, showing its teeth in an almost comical grimace, as if it intended to put a stop to whatever Flappy was doing to Rainger. “Odie, no!”
Basile moved to place himself between Elaina and the confused animal. “Bleu, restrain him before he hurts someone—or himself!”
Rouge tackled the clumsy dog, with all four paws splayed out on the floor, holding its head down with a forearm to the back of its head. “Could it be mad?”
Bleu yanked his kerchief from around his neck. “I saw no signs of it. I’m inclined to believe this behavior has to do with the way we found him this morning.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Elaina cried out. “He’s in pain! Rouge, ease up on its poor head just a bit.”
“Of course, Mistress. Anything else, Mistres
s?” Rouge asked acerbically as he wrestled the behemoth into submission so that Bleu could fasten the kerchief around its muzzle. “Do you see madness in its eyes? Should we put it down?” He made a sound of disgust when drool from its jowls got slung about and hit him in the face.
“Here,” Indigo said as he gently extricated Odie’s head and helped Rouge to get him turned around. The beast couldn’t move once Rouge had its upper torso pinned with his brawny arms and his legs locked at the ankles around the rest of it.
Lord Violet was crouched next to her, beside Rainger and Flappy, but he looked up at them and said, “Hold him for a moment. I’ll be right there.”
“Hold him for a moment, he says.” Rouge’s accent grew thicker as he muttered to himself. “At least he smells of lavender instead of the latrine. Dog, you make this only worse for yourself by struggling.” He squeezed hard once, and Odie’s eyes bulged and his tongue lolled. The fight went out of him.
The vibration she’d felt in the air subsided, and when the glow beneath Flappy’s scales subsided, Lord Violet reached forward and placed his hand on top of Flappy’s head. “Highness?”
“Nurk,” the dragon uttered in a deeper pitched but recognizable vocalization.
“Flappy, are you all right? What happened?” She opened her arms to him, not failing to notice that he’d at least quadrupled in size since that morning. Even in her heightened state, Elaina couldn’t ignore that. As if dazed, Flappy sat up and shook his head, and she caught him when he promptly keeled over.
Rainger suddenly jerked and took a deep breath and shouted. “Ah!” He looked around blankly. “What happened?”
Lord Violet sighed with relief and aided him in sitting up and then slapped him on the back.
“Zayrgrud the Terrifying saved you. Look at your arms.”
In confusion, he blinked down at his arms and brushed at the white powder that crumbled away and disappeared into the air. Realization appeared in his expression. “Draconia? She knew I was here. How?”
Lord Violet arched a brow and, with a slight lift of his chin, indicated the dog. He spoke loud enough for all to hear. “That bitch, Draconia, no doubt with one of her useless spells.”
The dog came to life again, baring his teeth behind the gag but unable to bite.
“Step away from it, Rouge, carefully,” Lord Violet said as he drew his dagger.
“Wait!” Elaina cried out, realizing Violet’s intention. “Please don’t hurt Odie! He’s a gentle dog! I’m sure he didn’t really intend—”
Flappy struggled from her arms, landed on his feet, and then tripped headfirst into the floor. He grunted and flapped his wings to right himself, and before Lord Violet could stop him, he lunged at the dog.
Lord Violet lurched forward, but he was too late. “Highness, no!”
Elaina watched in shock as Flappy latched onto the dog, beneath his chin and across his chest where the dog couldn’t get at him with its jowls strapped shut. Tiggi came running from the kitchens, her apron flapping and a stricken look on her face.
A bright glow emanated from the dragon just as before when he’d fallen on Rainger. A shrill disembodied scream vibrated the air at the same time the dog howled through the gag. It keeled over—and transformed into an enormous and very naked man.
Tiggi squeaked in horror and chaos erupted all around them, but Flappy held on to the unconscious man, still glowing. As the light dissipated from Flappy’s scales, he fell to the floor, striking his head.
“Poor baby!” Elaina cried as she extricated herself from Basile’s protective hold and lifted the limp dragon into her arms. “Flapster? Flappy-Doo? Can you hear me?” His scaly body was overly warm…or was that normal for a dragon? She could hear him breathing, and his little heart beat a rapid tattoo under her hand.
“Give them room,” Lord Violet murmured, the picture of calm and control. The knights moved to inspect the unconscious man and all Elaina could see of him was his gigantic feet, with their lurid orange toenails.
Vert said, “Odiferous is a tangere.”
Bleu shook his head. “I brought him into our stronghold. I cannot believe I was deceived.”
Jaune squatted down by his side and lifted a large beefy arm that was covered in bruises. The hand hung limp at the wrist, Atomic Orange fingernails twinkling boldly. “He appears to have been tortured.”
Still holding Flappy close, she said, “When I was cleaning his ears, I noticed blood in them.”
Lord Violet frowned as he looked from her to Flappy and then back to the man…or tangere, whatever it was, obviously trying to put some mental puzzle together.
She said, “I thought Tangere was the name of your continent or land or…whatever.”
“He is a shape-shifter,” Basile said, joining the knight in crouching near the man. He removed the kerchief obstructing his nose and mouth, and then he gestured for Rainger to come over. “A tangere has other abilities beyond that, though, depending upon the degree of fae blood in his lineage.”
“Is that bad?” Elaina asked.
Rainger shook his head and then groaned, cradling it as if it hurt, as he rose and stumbled over to get a better look. “No, tangeres aren’t bad. But I know this man. Fermin Guggant.”
Basile said, “I remember his parents. They worked in the castle when I was growing up.”
Rainger nodded his thanks to Lord Violet as the leader of the knights brought a stool over for him to sit upon. “He and his family were loyal, but he is a simple sort, and Draconia used him for his abilities. He can adopt any canine form he chooses. But why would she have abused him?” he asked, indicating his ears.
Lord Violet slid his dagger back in its sheath. “Mind control. I suspect this is more of Draconia’s foul magic. You heard her yourself when Zayrgrud cast her out?”
“Well, it wasn’t me who screeched that great awful racket earlier,” Tiggi said as she bustled forward. She looked down at Odie, a speculative tilt to her mouth as she no doubt got a load of his hairy, manly glory. Untying her apron, she laid it over his naked bits. “I thought there was something peculiar about Odie. You can bring him to the kitchen, gentlemen, and I’ll tend to him and find him some clothes.”
“But, what if he harms you?” Sir Orange asked, concern written on his face.
“Oh, you’re just worried who will cook your supper, aren’t you?” she teased with a grin. “Lord Violet, you reckon that creature is gone from him? Draconia I mean?”
“Yes, Tiggi. I’m sure of it, thanks to Zayrgrud.”
“My thanks to His Highness, too,” she said with a curtsy and a bob of her head. “I’ve got a fresh caught salmon special for his meal this evening.”
Even in his dazed state, Flappy made a yummy sound. “Nurk.”
“Well then, if he comes to and acts up, I’ll just take my wooden spoon to his hide. Leave him to me, sirs, and don’t worry about supper.” Tiggi followed after them, leaving Lord Violet with Elaina and her men.
Lord Violet placed his hand on Flappy’s head and then smiled. “He is fine. Just very tired.” Violet turned those hypnotic silver eyes up at her and said, “I have never seen a dragon this age capable of healing a dying man, much less also casting a possessing spirit out of a tangere.”
“Ummm…okay, what you just said. I guess that’s good, right?”
Lord Violet nodded. “The hot springs will help him, and then he needs a hearty meal and to go to sleep early tonight. I’ll take him for training in the morning but only for part of the day. The exercise will help him, but we won’t over-do like we did today. That is your miracle you hold in your arms, Elaina the White.”
Heat entered her cheeks as the men smiled down at her. “Whatever, I didn’t do anything.”
“You taught him to care and to have compassion. Otherwise he would never have gone to Rainger’s or Fermin’s aid. To dragons, there is living and dying, procreating, and protecting territory. Loyalty stretches only as far as alliances are profitable to both sides. It’s a harsh s
ociety he comes from. When he returns to it, they will benefit from having a king who is strong but also compassionate.”
And has great taste in music, an odd chirpy voice said right in her ear.
Startled, she turned to see who’d snuck up behind her. Violet chuckled and glanced at Flappy, who was still limp in her arms. She looked down and caught the movement of his glowing amber eyes right before he slammed his lids shut again.
“Uhhh…what just happened?”
Basile and Rainger frowned at her. “Are you all right?”
Lord Violet winked at her and said, “I will have a talk with Fermin when he awakens. If you would like to take Zayrgrud to the hot springs, Mistress, we will call you as soon as food is prepared. Basile, Rainger, please come with me. His Highness can protect your lady.”
Violet’s word choice wasn’t lost on her as he glanced at her hair, which had tightened up into damp ringlets.
Basile and Rainger nodded their acquiescence to Violet and then leaned down to kiss her before following after him.
So much for keeping the fact that I have not one but two lovers on the down low. She slung her backpack onto her shoulder and carried the dragon back the way they’d come from earlier.
What’s a down low? The voice chirped again, and this time it sounded like it was coming from between her ears.
I’m losing my mind!
Did you look in your backpack? It might be in there with the tunes, mon.
She stopped in mid-stride and gawked down at Flappy. “Are you doing the mind-meld thingy with me, like Draconia did with Odie?”
A light chuckle trilled in her head. No, I was honestly hoping for some more Bob Marley or some maybe vintage heavy metal. I sang “Three Little Birds” for Lord Violet this afternoon. When I showed him how to dance to it, he thought I was having a fit. Don’t forget you promised to teach me how to twerk yesterday, once we found shelter. How’s this for shelter, huh? High five? He grinned at her and held up one paw with the claws carefully sheathed.
“This is…”
Freaky?
“You are…”
Dance of the Dragon Sorceress Page 12