by Judith Post
Christian had gone to great pains to have wells dug for each village, but no one could pull buckets fast enough to douse dragon flames. Worse yet, wherever he went, people huddled nearby, gripping whatever they found handy, to spring to his defense. Their desire to protect him was touching, but they'd only get in his way, slow him down if he had to fight. And Brina refused to leave his side. Usually, having her near brought great pleasure—it was hard not to touch her, but at the moment, he'd rather lock her in a tower to keep her safe.
"How am I supposed to protect you from a dragon?" he argued. "I'd rather you'd stay inside the Keep. Its walls are thick. They can't be burned."
Besides the peasants, witches "happened" to be shopping or tending to some chore at each and every place he tarried. Finally, he gave up. He returned to his fortress and paced in the Great Room.
"How can I protect the villagers," he fumed, "when they're hell-bent on protecting me?"
Brom went to sit at the long, wooden table where they made plans. Brina took a chair, too, and soon Cook and several of the witches joined her.
Brina looked particularly fetching. She wore a simple, blue gown. The blue matched her eyes. She heaved deep, worried breaths, and Christian had trouble prying his gaze from her bosom. She arched a brow when she caught him. "We can do what we did when the vampire army attacked. We can each take a place on the fortress walk…."
"We jammed every villager into the fortress to protect them," Brom said, interrupting. "How do we do that when we have no idea when the attack will come?"
Christian was too restless to sit. He moved from one end of the table to the other. "We need some way to warn the villagers to run for our walls. We have a chance of protecting them if they make it into the courtyard." He turned to the witch who cast protective bubbles. "Linata, will your shields work against dragons?"
She nodded.
Christian ticked off ideas as he thought of them. "The fortress will stand. So will the Keep. We need to have a system in place. The dragon mistress could raid our kingdom over and over again. Unless…."
"No, you're not going to sneak through the forest and invade her." Brom's voice was steel. There was no arguing. "What are you going to do against a half-dozen dragons?"
Christian's expression crumpled. "You're right. We'll just have to do our best here. So how do we give the villagers enough warning to flee their houses in time?"
They finally decided that witches would set wards at the edge of the forest. When the dragons passed them, energy would blast skyward and high-pitched winds would howl. Guards would keep watch on the high wall, and when they saw the signs, they'd clang huge bells to wake everyone and sound the alarm.
Christian rode with the soldiers and witches when they went to place the wards. For once, he convinced Brina to stay put, and to let Brom accompany him instead, but Christian insisted on going. He wouldn't leave his people on their own if they were caught far from the fortress.
They rode up and down the edge of trees. Christian kept glancing skyward, waiting for a dragon to dive toward them. Each time he heard a movement, his hand went to his sword hilt. Brom was no better. By the time they returned to the castle, their nerves were frayed. When they strode into the Great Room, Brina's lips trembled with relief.
She came to wrap her arms around Christian's waist. "You've done all that you can. Save your strength. Come, eat with me and your mother, and we'll make more plans."
She worried her full, bottom lip, and he wanted to kiss away her fears. But Brina would laugh at any attempts to make light of something she knew was full of danger.
She tugged at him again. "Come. Sit with me. There's nothing to do now but wait."
She was right, he knew, so he did his best. But the waiting wore on his nerves. He'd have gone stir-crazy except that he and Brom stayed up late, drinking at the long table, and came up with new plans for defense.
In the morning, Brom gathered enough men to nail sheets of heavy metal to every fortress door. The pounding reverberated on the stone walls. The stench of sweating bodies filled the rooms. The doors wouldn't hold indefinitely, but along with the witch's protective bubbles, they'd keep the courtyard safe until most peasants made it into the Keep.
While Brom hammered at metal doors, Christian helped more soldiers install iron bars that could be lowered into place at each of the Keep's openings. Blacksmiths worked side by side with the soldiers. Flames and heat were interrupted by hisses of fiery-red metals being dunked in cool water. Even working together to carry and lift, Christian's shoulders ached by the time the last bars were in place.
Dragons might blow fire, but they couldn't melt these. The hot, heavy labor kept his mind off of worries and helped him fall into bed, exhausted, each night.
And then the waiting began. Christian prowled the fortress walkways. Brom checked and double-checked their defenses. What was the dragon mistress waiting for? Why didn't she attack them before they could prepare?
It was five days later that blasts of magic flew high in the air and winds whipped themselves to a frenzy, screaming a warning. Christian ran to the high wall and watched as villagers raced to the fortress. The guards opened its thick, double gates, and when the last peasant slid into the courtyard, shut them and bolted them against the enemy.
Dragons of various sizes and hues flew over the small, plastered houses, causing them no harm. In the front and center of the winged reptiles, a woman perched on the neck of a scarlet-scaled beast—the same dragon they'd met in the forest. Her army landed before the high wall that surrounded Christian's fortress, and the woman dismounted. She was tall and dusky-skinned, beautiful and exotic.
She was unlike anyone Christian had seen before. Her eyes were slanted, and she wore a helmet-like headpiece, crested with feathers. Her armor was tight-fitting, so short the gray metal covered her breasts and waist, and little else. In these lands, no woman showed so much bare, female skin. Two long cloths dangled from her waistline, covering her front and back, but exposing her legs. They were long and shapely. Her dragon stayed close to her side, glowering at the guards.
She tipped her head and scanned the people on the high wall until her gaze settled on Christian. If she was surprised to see women scattered up and down the walk, she didn't show it. She gave a small nod and called, "I assume you're the lord here?"
Christian stepped closer to the stones so that she could see him better. "That would be me. And you are?"
She frowned, taken aback by his casual tone. "I am Ignisia, mistress of dragons and lover of flames. I've come to claim you."
Christian had to give Jarman credit. He'd been right. Why Ignisia wanted him was beyond him, though. "Claim me? For what?"
"You're to be my mate." She clapped her hands, and the dragons bowed, revealing gifts that were strapped to their backs. "Your dowry."
One dragon bent its neck to place a chest of gold on the ground before it. Another set forth a chest of dried herbs and spices. A third lowered a cage filled with exotic birds.
Christian heard the witches inhale their breaths at the treasure's bounty, but he stopped watching and called, "You're lovely and charming, I'm sure, but a little late. I'm already betrothed."
She gave a loud, unladylike snort. "To a peasant! I've spent these past days learning about you. You're a lord who loves his people, so I came in peace. Give your wench to someone else. She's of no value compared to me."
Christian smiled. He kept his tone friendly, hoping to keep her engaged until Brom got the last peasant into the Keep. "I beg to differ. I worked hard to win Brina, and I intend to claim her hand before she changes her mind."
"I care little of who or what you want. I'm determined to make you my mate. Our children will have my magic and yours."
Christian couldn't hide his surprise. That's why she wanted to mate with him? "I'm flattered, I'm sure, but again, I have to decline."
She crossed her arms, losing patience. "You'd risk your life and your serfs' for some little chit?"
/>
His eyes narrowed. No one called Brina a chit, but his voice remained calm. "What life would I have with you? You'd have little use for me after we produced your wanted brood. What then? Would you dispose of me? Make me dragon food?"
She shook her head. "I'm a woman of my word. Dragon keepers cannot lie. Dragons won't tolerate it." A smile quirked her lush lips.
"I swear that I'll strive to be a good wife to you, to pleasure you and treat you with respect."
Sweet heavens, if he wasn't already taken, he'd be tempted. She raised a dark brow, pinning him with her gaze. "Your looks are pleasing to me. So are your words. My race has ways to pleasure a man that your lands—with their pathetic view of women—can't imagine."
Christian gripped the stones before him. This woman was nothing but forthright. He glanced at a small movement beneath him—Brom letting him know that everyone was safe—and Christian's shoulders relaxed. "Once again, I thank you for the offer, but I'd rather choose my wife than be chosen. Still, I welcome you to our lands, and I'll try to be a good neighbor to your serfdom."
She took a fighter's stance. She was no stranger to combat, he could tell. "I like strong men, but you have no choice in this matter. Take him!"
A green dragon on her left unfurled its wings and leapt skyward.
"Get ready!" Sabina called and raised her arms. Winds gushed at the dragon, pushing it away.
Another dragon streaked upward. Sparks flew from the young witch's fingers, wrapped themselves around the dragon's neck, and forced him back to earth.
Ignisia raised a palm, calming her pets. She looked up and down the high walkway, studying her opponents more closely. "I should have known you have no women warriors. In my lands, women fight and conquer, but you only make use of witches. Are they willing to die for you?"
Cook called out an answer. "Christian's willing to die for us. He is our serfdom."
"Christian? Your name suits you." Ignisia's gaze returned to him. "If you care about these people, unite your lands with mine. I'll let you rule them as you will. I have no use for mortals, but if you're fond of them, I'll let them be."
"Leave here. Find someone else!" Sabina called. Christian was grateful she'd had her child. Her breasts were heavy with milk, but he didn't need to worry about her unborn baby. He'd hated having her fight the vampire army when she was pregnant, but there'd been no dissuading her.
"He has an intended!" the young witch cried.
Several witches glanced toward Brina, something Christian had taken great pains not to do. Ignisia's eyes narrowed, and a knot of worry tightened in Christian's belly.
Ignisia raised her arms to her dragons, then pointed to Brina. "Kill her!"
A dragon with golden scales lifted into the air and belched fire at Brina. Christian stepped in front of her, blasting the flames away with flames of his own.
"Don't harm him!" Ignisia's words cried over the mayhem. "Take him if you can."
Damn. He was standing on a high walkway with beasts that could fly. Christian planted his feet on the mortar beneath him. Not that stones could ground him in place. He felt like a prize for the plucking at a county fair.
A second dragon shot overhead. Brina placed both of her palms on Christian's shoulders, and he held his hands upward. Ice met fire, and steam filled the air, expanding above them, hot enough to blister and burn. The dragon darted away.
Ignisia paused the fighting once more. This time, she focused her attention on Brina. "I see. I thought he'd fallen for some fair beauty, but you have magic of your own."
Brina stepped closer to Christian, making it clear he was hers. "A warlord and a witch, both practicing white magic, both dedicated to our people."
Ignisia grimaced. "No other lands I've visited allow magic. Only here. Practice your talents without him. Give him to me, and rule the serfdom as you will."
Brina wrapped her arm around Christian's waist. "He's mine. You can't have him."
"And your magic is?"
Brina laughed. "A perfect match to his."
"Then die for your love." Ignisia released her dragons once more.
A black male, sleek and huge, sprang into the air. The other dragons darted from its path as it headed straight for Brina. Before it could scorch her, Brom rushed in front of her and threw up his shield. No real defense against flames. He'd surely die, but he might save Brina.
Christian braced himself, ready to fight fire with fire, but the dragon stopped. It flapped its wings and hovered. It stretched its neck toward Brom, out of reach of his sword, and sniffed him. Then it turned in midair and placed itself between Brom and Ignisia.
A massive, black body hovered before Christian. He and Brom exchanged glances. Was this a trick?
A slim, purple dragon dared to challenge it. The black dragon snorted fire. The purple beast darted out of harm's way, but screeched a protest. The high-pitched shriek hurt Christian's ears. He gritted his teeth and shook his head. A gray dragon plummeted toward them from above, and Christian waved his hands, making a ceiling of flames, to turn it away.
Once again, Ignisia stopped the battle. In no hurry to finish them. She was playing with them, learning their strengths and weaknesses. Hands on hips, she confronted her errant dragon. "Lothar, what are you doing? You're protecting the wrong man."
The dragon settled on the walkway between Brom and Christian. Christian's heartbeat quickened. The beast's sides rose and fell like a bellows. Its scales shimmered. Christian wanted to step away, but refused to give ground. He needed to be close enough to help Brom. If he could help Brom.
Ignisia stomped her foot, angry. "Come down here! Tell me your tale."
Lothar flew to the ground and lowered its neck to Ignisia. She pressed her palm to the dragon's scales, and her eyes went wide with surprise.
"There must be some mistake."
Lothar stared at her with unblinking eyes.
"How can you be sure?"
The dragon motioned for her to touch him again. And again, her expression held surprise.
She jerked her hand away and tilted her head to study Brom. She called out, "Things have altered. Keep your serfdom. It's safe if I take him." Her finger pointed to Brom.
Christian let out a slow breath. He walked to press himself against the stones and spoke slowly and clearly. "I don't know what lands you come from or what lands you've visited, but where I rule, we sacrifice no one. We'll fight to the death for one of our peasants. And I'm sure as hell not handing over my top general and my closest friend."
She blinked. "You care for one another that much?"
Christian glared down at her. He was tired of her demands.
"I can tell it's a new concept for you, but yes, we do."
"And you?" she called to Brom. "What have you to say?"
Brom took his place beside Christian. "You're a fetching wench, but rather bossy. Go back to where you came from. We don't do things your way. If you smash our serfdom, another will arise. Dragons are extinct here because men worked together to hunt and destroy them. They'll do the same to you and yours."
Her jaw dropped. "You're an insolent man!"
"And you're a horrible shrew. Go home."
She sputtered for a moment, too angry to speak, then threw back her head and laughed. "What magic do you have?"
Brom held out his hands in a helpless gesture. "None that I know of."
"Oh, but you do. Lothar believes that you're destined for me."
Brom's dark brows drew together as he glowered at the dragon. "And he bases this on…what?"
"Let him tell you himself."
The dragon swooped into the air, and Brom drew his sword. Christian raised his palms, and the witches readied their magic.
Ignisia sighed. "He means no harm. He's determined to defend you. Just touch him."
Christian glanced at Brom. Brom shrugged. The dragon settled between them once more.
Brom removed the glove from his hand, stretched out his arm, and pressed his palm against the drago
n's neck, as he'd seen Ignisia do. And his eyes went wide.
Christian stared. He wouldn't let anyone hurt his friend, if he could help it. But he had no idea what to do. "What is it?"
Brom's voice shook. "I can hear him, his thoughts. He can hear me."
"Like the vampires?"
"Like Jarman invading my dreams."
Ignisia stared at Brom in surprise. "Then it's true. You're Lothar's rider, the only man who can be his master. I can't ride him. He won't let me. I was meant for Scarlet."
Christian frowned, shaking his head to rid himself of the worries that swirled in his thoughts. "It doesn’t matter. You have no claim on him."
Ignisia's posture went rigid. "Oh, but I do, and I'll take him. Keep the dowry. Brom is mine. He'll rule my new serfdom with me."
Christian's patience was gone. He yelled, "Have you learned nothing? You take no one! These are my lands, my people. And I protect what is mine."
Brina laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him. She locked eyes with Ignisia. "If you want Brom, woo him, like every other woman. Make him desire you."
"Woo him?" Ignisia's lips curled. "Men beg to be with me."
Sabina barked a short laugh. "And women beg to be with Brom. Stand in line."
"I beg from no one." Ignisia's hands curled into fists.
Christian tried to temper the situation. "If you could choose, wouldn't you rather have a willing mate and an equal, instead of someone you have to beat into submission? I know Brom. He'll never yield."
"He yields to you."
"Out of respect, nothing else. And it's mutual."
She glared at Brom. "What say you?"
He didn't answer immediately. He slowly looked her up and down. He glanced at the dragons that would fight and die for her. "I'd rather have a partner than a blushing bride. Looks fade. Character grows richer with time. We all age."
She quirked an eyebrow. "Not once you become dragon master. Lothar's magic will become part of you."
Brom gazed up at the black dragon. "Short or long, a life with no reason is pointless. I won't kill or war against innocent people. It's against my principles."