Dance of the Dragon Sorceress

by Heather Rainier

  Zyrsyrrys the Horrific took to the air with a great surging flap of his wings, stirring the air like a whirlwind, until he landed with an earth-shaking thud between the evil queen and her gathered legion and the small band of knights and armed guards. He angled his dark green head on his long neck so he could look at her. Then he lifted his head and gave a great call to the dragons. They echoed the call, and suddenly a transparent green curtain rose between the armies, crackling with energy and quivering as though it were alive. The huntsmen closest to the phenomena fell back from it, seeking retreat.

  A familiar scene suddenly appeared within the transparency like a mirage. The palace of his youth, Coeur du Ciel, the Heart of the Sky. A much younger version of him held his father where he lay in the rubble of one of the palace towers. The king struggled to speak to him. “Draconia…Draconia did this. They trusted us with their young, and she fooled us all.”

  In the vision, Lord Violet, a younger and unscarred version of the man who now stood beside them, rushed up and said, “My king! What would you have me do?”

  “Protect the dragons. I proclaim you Lord Violet, Protector of Dragons, Leader of the Order of the Dragon. Make sure they know…ask them to forgive my foolishness…”

  The king died, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he looked up into the sky that was filling with dragons arriving to avenge their young and the death of their ally. Among them was Zyrsyrrys the Horrific and his mate, Cirruth the Cunning. Both dragons were clearly younger versions of the majestic dragons currently on scene, but no less terrifying or destructive.

  Cirruth chased Draconia as she ran cackling through the ruins of the palace, always one step ahead of a deathblow thanks to supernatural speed and agility.

  The scene faded, left unresolved, and was replaced by the image of a dark room with curved walls—a tower room. A fire blazed in the center, and all watched in horror as Draconia stood at her work table, cleaver in hand, blood and gore dripping down her neck and into her bodice as she consumed heart after heart of the baby dragons who had just been delivered to King Farald’s care.

  Basile was nauseated by the image. That same disgust was mirrored on the faces of the other observers, even the huntsmen.

  She ripped wings from lifeless forms and attached them with magic to the ruff she wore around her neck, and before their eyes, she grew younger and more beautiful, and the power she consumed crackled and flickered like lightning all around her.

  The deep rumble of enraged dragons was a terrifying sound, and he started to sweat as the amount of heat they emanated increased just a bit. The fires of their anger being stoked, no doubt.

  Cirruth the Cunning, a most gloriously beautiful red behemoth, lighted beside her mate, a growl rippling in her throat as she angled her head so it was at eye level with Draconia. Riding on her back without aid of harness or safety gear was Selena Eryaras. She rose from her perch, steadying herself with the aid of Cirruth’s many lethal spikes and stepped gingerly until she hopped from Cirruth’s snout to the ground before Draconia.

  Selena faced off with Draconia through the transparent screen, and with the sweeping gesture of her hand, the screen turned blue and the image of a platinum-haired young woman appeared. She sat with a juvenile dragon beside a stream.

  “No!” Draconia screeched. Enraged, she ran at the screen and hammered a fist against it, but she was flung back into the midst of her personal guard. When Elaina tried to escape, Draconia flung out a fist and dragged her back with an unseen tether. She returned her furious gaze to the screen as Elaina struggled.

  The dragon, a silver beast whose skeletal structure hinted at the large size he would grow to, gazed at her with curiosity. The young woman suddenly transformed into a dragon, a pretty blue dragon of about the same size, with leathery wings she struggled to control. The dragon drew back in obvious surprise, but curiosity won out, and when he nosed her again, she returned to her human form. She was a tangere. And she looked alarmingly like Draconia. He couldn’t hear what she said, but it was obvious from her wringing hands and the way she reached for him that she was pleading with him and that she loved him.

  Lord Violet called out, “It would never have worked, Draconia. Tangere dragon or not, you could never maintain that form for more than a few seconds. They would never have accepted you—he would never have accepted you as a mate. You were unable to produce dragon young. Fool! Were you more pragmatic or logical, rather than ruled by your emotions, they would’ve allowed you in their midst as a human with a stunted dragon tangere.”

  Draconia drew up to her full height and said, “I didn’t want to live amongst them. I wanted to mate the heir to the throne, be their queen. I would’ve mastered my tangere with time.”

  “It didn’t matter once they discovered the magic you intended to use to do so. They may be ruled by logic and not emotion, but they definitely noticed when their young disappeared before reaching maturity.”

  Cirruth roared at the sky, flames shooting from her spread jaws, and the screen flared red, showing an image of the dragons mourning the slaughtered bodies of their progeny, found near that same stream, and then hunting down their murderer. Draconia.

  “You’re lucky all they did was banish you and strip your tangere from you permanently, so you couldn’t breach the Unsunderable Cliffs again. They could’ve killed you.”

  “They should have!” she cried out as she turned in a circle, screeching at them. “I’ve taken what’s dear from each and every one of you. Soon your numbers will dwindle and you’ll die out while I grow ever stronger. Those of you who remain will learn to serve me as your true queen!”

  Elaina squared off with Draconia, an incredibly stupid move, Basile thought, and then she said, “Let’s talk about that.”

  “What gives you the right to speak at all?” Draconia growled, throwing up a hand to cast a spell.

  Elaina giggled—for the sake of all that was holy, she giggled. Basile wanted nothing so much as to put her over his knee and paddle her bottom. Then she held up a palm and said, “I’m rubber, you’re glue, whatever bounces off me sticks on you!”

  Draconia’s lips suddenly stuck shut. She screamed behind them, but no words escaped no matter how hard she tried to pry her jaws open.

  Beside him, Rainger paused with eyebrows raised, and he whispered, “She really is a witch.”

  Lord Violet snorted. “She’s getting a little bit of help from Selena. The girl has gigantic brass balls.”

  “Which one?”

  Lord Violet snorted. “Both of them.”

  Elaina thumped the bottom of her sword, and the glowing red blade disappeared, drawing a gasp from the huntsmen nearby. She turned on them, brandishing the weapon, and they fell back even farther.

  Elaina swept a hand at the screen, and a split screen image appeared. On one side, Draconia stood in her tower, arms raised, casting a spell. The other part of the image showed a company of one hundred huntsmen camping in a bowl-like clearing in the forest. They were eating their evening meal, talking and laughing with one another beneath the darkened sky.

  All at once, their tattoos turned gold, and they rose in shock, looking at each other. Hurriedly, they grabbed their packs and ran for the Palais de Lune de Sang. Before they could even leave the camp, the marks grew silver, and they cried out, panic taking over. A moment later, they all fell to the ground, dead.

  Draconia’s chanting continued, and Basile watched in horror as the green wisps of the huntsmen’s life forces rose from their inert bodies. Drawn by an unseen force, they swirled together and flew to the uppermost tower room in Palais de Lune de Sang, where they were absorbed by Draconia.

  Elaina turned to the huntsmen behind her. “That is why she has brought all of you. Not to fight for her, but to die for her. If she possesses your life forces, she has a fighting chance. Had, I should say,” she added apologetically before turning to Draconia. “I learned from you that the youngest dragons might be the most vulnerable, but they also possess the str
ongest, most concentrated magic, which is why you want them so much. Look around you.” She gestured to the dragons.

  One by one, little heads popped from the armored pouches of the dragons.

  “Holy moly, that’s lots of babies!” Elaina called out enthusiastically.

  Her lips finally parted enough to speak, and Draconia said, “Who are you?”

  Elaina delivered a mocking attempt at a bow. “Just call me the Dragon Nanny.”

  Draconia screamed in rage and then flung her hands to the sky, casting her spell. Selena cast a spell of her own from her position on the other side of the screen, deflecting whatever magic the evil queen directed at Elaina.

  Elaina took the chance Selena gave her and lunged forward, ripping the dragon wing ruff from Draconia’s neck.

  Before their eyes, Draconia began to age, her hair losing its luster, wrinkles appearing on her face. Her chest sank inward so the breastplate no longer fit her less than lithe form, and her back bowed over.

  “I’d say you’ve been at this for far too long.” Elaina turned to address all the huntsmen and the personal guard who closed in around Draconia. “Do you see what you serve? Do you see how you are valued? Is this what you want?”

  Draconia just growled at her and began muttering, casting another spell.

  “Oh, no, you don’t, you soul-sucking hose beast. Hit it, Flappy!” she called.

  Zayrgrud the Terrifying let loose with a roar that vibrated Basile’s eardrums and even his sternum. Then Zyrsyrrys the Horrific, Cirruth the Cunning, and all the other dragons took up the call.

  A wide smile spread across Rainger’s face, and he pointed. “Look!”

  All around the abbey, the dragon huntsmen’s tattoos changed from the normal copper hue to gold and then silver. The huntsmen looked at each other in horror, obviously thinking they were all about to die, and then the tattoos changed from silver to white. Clouds of dust formed around them as the harmless marks flaked away into powder.

  Silence reigned for moments, and then a sound drew his attention back to Draconia. She grimaced as she mouthed a toothless curse, pointing at Elaina.

  Elaina was thrown to the ground and clawed at her throat with one hand as she steadied the egg hidden in her armor with the other.

  “What have we here? A baby dragon?” the malevolent hag croaked as she hobbled forward, waggling her fingers as if she couldn’t wait to get her bony clutches on it.

  “Nurk! Nurk! Nurk! Mmmm-mmmeee! Nurk!” came the tiny, helpless cry of a baby dragon.

  Zayrgrud chuffed and made to lurch forward, but Zyrsyrrys stopped him with a big paw up-raised, shaking his head.

  Elaina crawled backward, unable to speak, and then an amazing thing happened. A tiny head emerged from the bodice of her armor, pearlescent pink in the morning light. The lovely baby dragon lifted her chin and repeated the call. All the other baby dragons took up the cry. “Nurk! Nurk! Nurk! Mmmm-mmmeee! Nurk!”

  A funnel of wind surrounded Draconia, silencing her, and spinning her until she was disoriented and immobilized.

  Elaina fell limp to the ground, clutching at her armor so the newly hatched dragon wouldn’t fall out.

  Zyrsyrrys shook his head when the others tried to run forward to help them, and the screen was re-energized with green light. It vibrated, and a stern voice, like the rumbling of a volcano, spoke through the transparency.

  “We bear witness to the past. We claim our part in the tragedy and place no blame for our losses beyond the one who caused them,” he added as he cast Draconia a baleful glare. “We affirm Zayrgrud’s right to rule in his own way, in his own time, and we acknowledge Faerhyss the Stealthy as his intended mate and future queen. On behalf of her parents, who were lost to dragon huntsmen recently, we entrust her tutelage to Elaina the Glorious as the…what did you call yourself?”

  Having caught her breath, Elaina nodded and said, “The Dragon Nanny.”

  “Does this mean you will stay?” Selena asked as she came forward to stand between Zyrsyrrys and Cirruth.

  Elaina hesitated for a second, and tears filled her eyes as she looked down at the dragonling playing with its fingers and then gazed at Basile and Rainger. A beautiful smile transformed her face, but the tears remained. “Yes, I will stay.”

  Selena nodded and whispered something to Elaina. Elaina looked a little dazed at whatever she said but didn’t stop Selena to ask questions.

  Selena stepped before Zayrgrud and bowed. “Your Highness, you have been known among dragons and men as Zayrgrud the Terrifying. The name fits you well. But today, you saved the Dragon Huntsmen of the Western Kingdom, despite the crimes they were compelled by Draconia to commit. From this day forward, the united kingdoms of Tangere will know you as Zayrgrud the Terrifying, Redeemer of Men.”

  Zayrgrud inclined his head to Selena and then chortled to Elaina as she came close, loosening the strap on her chest armor. “I think she needs your warmth, Zayrgrud…okay, if you say so, Flappy it is. She needs your warmth. I think all the excitement has her in a bit of shock.”

  Zayrgrud purred and crouched down, tugging aside the edge of his armored pouch. Elaina sniffled as she lifted the little pink dragon from her armor, pecked her on the nose, and tucked her in. “Wait until I introduce you to Bob Marley, chiquita. And Peeps.”

  Zyrsyrrys made a sound that was remarkably like clearing his throat and then inclined his big head to Draconia, who was now held at spear point by the Dragon huntsmen. They also held at bay several of her personal guards, who were evidently unrepentant in their part to aid Draconia.

  Lord Violet looked to the king of the dragons, and for several moments, they held quiet communion with each other. Evidently that meeting of the minds lasted for a bit too long because suddenly Cirruth the Cunning, along with several other female dragons, lunged for Draconia.

  The dragon huntsmen serving as guards fell back as she roared a warning to them and incinerated the perpetrators on the spot.

  Cirruth flipped a huge elegantly clawed hand in a negligent wave that turned the screen red again. A female dragon’s voice rasped through the morning quiet. “She was not sorry. Neither am I.” The female dragons gathered around her and roared their victory, the others joining them, although some of the male dragons sounded more like they were laughing. Before meeting Zayrgrud the Terrifying, he’d never have believed it.

  * * * *

  Elaina grinned at Faerhyss the Stealthy, also known as Chiquita, Chickadee, or Chickadeenie McChickerson, as she eyed the Marshmallow Peep from the safety and warmth of Zayrgrud’s pouch.

  Once the battle, which never happened, was considered at its conclusion, the former dragon huntsmen had dug a hole and buried the ashes of the guilty parties. Their next act of service had been to kneel en masse before Basile and swear him their loyalty, to answer his call to service, and to serve his kingdom or suffer punishment in whatever manner he saw fit.

  Basile, being the awesome hot kingly prince that he was, pardoned them all and accepted their oaths. He commissioned their next act of service for the following day, when they would return to Palais de Lune de Sang and tear it down, stone by stone, all the way to the foundations.

  Until Coeur du Ciel could be rebuilt on the spot, he would rule the Western Kingdom from Abbatia de Innocentio, better known to Elaina as just “the abbey.” All those names were a mouthful.

  Chiquita sniffed at the Peep and scrunched her nose up. “Nurk, Mmmm-mmmeee? Poop?” Her wee intonation of the syllables sounded as if she was saying, “What the hell is that, mommy? Poop?”

  “No, it’s a Peep, and Zayrgrud loves them!” she said encouragingly. It was a fair bet that if Chiquita knew Flappy liked them she’d at least give it a try. Chiquita held up her tiny pink hand in front of her face with a tiny bit of attitude.

  Above her head, she could hear the chortle in Zayrgrud’s throat, and then he spoke softly in their mental connection. Yeah, good luck with that, Elaina. She just told you to talk to the hand. Did you teach her that
one?

  I might have. Listen, if you’re okay with watching her, I need to spend some time with my guys and ask Selena some questions. I won’t go far.

  Of course, Elaina. Take your time. Are you gonna eat that Peep? he added as he raised a ridged eyebrow and glanced at the Peep in her hand.

  Nope, you can have it. Looook, Chiquita. Seeeeee? Zayrgrud knows what’s yummy.

  She said “whatever.” I think you’re going to have your hands full with this one. I will talk to her, so she knows she can always trust you. You go do your thing.

  She giggled as she listened to Zayrgrud’s half of the conversation with Chiquita in her head.

  From the moment Faerhyss had first peeped at her through the crack in her shell, those silver eyes twinkling at Elaina with mischief, she had known it would all be all right, but not because she’d had things so well in hand. She’d bluffed for the most part.

  Faerhyss had heard Zayrgrud’s roar, and when she peeked out through a chink in Elaina’s armor and gotten a look at him and the situation, she’d immediately known what to do, as if he was communicating with her on his own. It would be another day or so before Elaina developed a mental link with the baby dragon.

  Lord Violet had suspected that Elaina planned to help out whether it was needed or not, which was why he hadn’t mentioned that the other dragons were coming, not to fight but to see justice done. The knights couldn’t risk Draconia finding out before the time was right. Otherwise she might’ve killed more huntsmen before their testimony was complete. The dragons were big on proceedings and protocol. Well, except for Cirruth. She kicked ass on a much grander scale.

  Ark-Ark, Zayrgrud murmured. I saw what you did there. You’re so punny.

  El-oh-el, eat your Peep.

  I can’t. She stole it.

  Elaina reached into the package in her backpack, and without looking behind her, she tossed it into the air. A loud chomp, followed by a baby dragon cackle behind her told her that he’d caught it.

  Basile and Rainger stood with Lord Violet, talking to the knights and the commanders of the companies of huntsmen. They eyed her warily, taking in the lightsaber tucked under her arm and the backpack on her shoulder. Some of them seemed in awe of her white hair and odd eyes, and they whispered to each other until Basile held up a hand.