by Edun, Terah
“How long can this last?” Ciardis asked.
“I don’t know,” said Lillian.
Neither seemed capable of gaining the advantage by air. With loud thumps they landed in the garden of the manor. With snarls and wicked snaps of their teeth, they each tried to get close enough to pin the other dragon and end the combat. But the under-dragon was fast enough to avoid Raisa’s lumbering bulk on the ground. Fortunately, the worst he seemed able to do was harry her as his blasts of fire had no effect on her massive bulk.
Then Ciardis heard the war-cry of the frost giant race.
She turned to Inga in amazement before she realized the sound wasn’t coming from behind her but rather below her.
She watched as the three frost giantesses who had journeyed with Inga rushed towards the battle with cleavers and battle-axes in hand.
“What in the world?” said Thanar.
“What do they think they’re doing?” snapped Lillian, “No one interferes in a duel between dragons.”
“These people do,” Ciardis said as she watched, “Inga would be proud.”
Before the under-dragon realized it they were on top of his back, hacking away with their weapons.
He didn’t appreciate the interruption. Turning from snapping at the bigger green dragon’s neck he lifted his head on his long neck and spewed fire.
They couldn’t get out of the way fast enough and fell from his back afire with screams.
“We need to be doing something!” said Ciardis.
“Like what?” said Thanar.
“That was exactly what Ambassador Raisa needed,” said Lillian in satisfaction.
She was right. Ciardis watched as the distraction gave Raisa the opening she needed to grab on to his scaled neck and snap her teeth down hard. Blood gushed everywhere, but it wasn’t enough to separate his head from his body. So Raisa began to gnaw through his throat, the black brown dragon thrashing under all the while in panic, fear, and pain. His thrashes became weaker and weaker as she pushed forward.
With a final crunch, her maw buried deep in his neck, she snapped clean through the vertebrae of the smaller under-dragon’s neck. And that was the end of the battle between the empress’s representative and her bestial brethren.
Raisa turned away with a bloody maw and roared her supremacy to the sky.
Ciardis watched – disturbed. Had they just vanquished one enemy only to gain an uncertain ally?
When Raisa stopped roaring she settled back on her haunches and began the transformation back to her human form.
“Come on,” said Thanar while turning away.
“For what?” Ciardis said with her knuckles to her mouth as she watched the display before them.
“It’s rude to stare,” he said.
Ciardis turned to look him in the eyes, expecting irony to be there.
Instead irritation lined his face.
“You’re kidding right?” she said while dropping her hand. “After watching the under-dragon and Raisa transform and seeing them beat the bloody hell out of each other, it’s rude to stare at her transforming back?”
Thanar’s mouth set in a displeased line, “Yes.”
He left.
“You know Ciardis,” said Lillian, “There are rules for everything. This is one of them. One that humans honor for the kith just as we expect the dragons not to eat their dead before us.”
Ciardis looked at her mother. “An agreement of races?”
Lillian smiled. “Exactly.”
They left the library ledge together.
Chapter 9
When they walked into the parlor, she was surprised to see Sebastian among the group. That should have been her first warning. Her delight was quickly overtaken as he spoke with Caemon.
“One thing at a time, eh?” said Caemon, “We’re all tired and struggling to stay standing right now.”
“Yes,” said Sebastian, “But we need to figure out what to do with our unwelcome guest.”
“Do?” said Ciardis as she looked over at Thomas.
“Do?” echoed Thomas in alarm.
Sebastian said flatly, “I meant the dead under-dragon.”
Walking past the piles of broken shelving, glass and shattered stone, he came up to Ciardis. Taking her hand gently in his, he lifted her arm.
“What?” she said.
“You’re bleeding,” Sebastian said.
Blinking Ciardis looked down and saw slashes on her arm, “So I am.”
She felt detached from the scene, from the battle, from life.
Staring at Sebastian, she watched as his eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on her wrist.
“Come with me,” he said shortly.
“Not a chance,” said Thanar.
“I don’t believe I asked you.”
Thanar’s wings arced up in anger as he said. “Do you want her bleeding all over the floor or do you want my help?”
Sebastian smiled. “I prefer my own remedy.”
Turning to Ciardis, he repeated. “Come with me.”
She looked between the two and then nodded her head. Leading her out the door, Sebastian didn’t look back. Neither did she.
He took her down the hall and across the manor to their living quarters. It was like another world. Untouched by the destructive nature of their enemies. Clean, quiet, serene.
Opening the door to a room they sat on the bed.
She had time to wonder, When did he get here? Mid-battle? But watched silent as he took out bandages, sterilized ointment and needles from a pack he carried.
Before he began Sebastian ran a finger along the edge of her arm. As his finger traced her flesh, the skin went numb, and she gasped in relief as the pain disappeared.
He smiled. “A trick I learned from my childhood nurse.”
He proceeded to stitch her arm properly and as he finished Sebastian snipped off the end of the thread and said, “Better.”
She smiled, “Much better.”
As he looked into her eyes, she leaned forward in happiness. Glad that he was here. Glad that the miles that separated them had disappeared in a moment. She wanted him with her, near her and beside her. She needed him here. And with that need Ciardis realized there was an ache in her heat whenever he wasn’t there. An ache that hadn’t receded yet. It only grew stronger as she looked into his eyes.
With sharp regret she knew that this wasn’t real. That the vision of him before was a mirage of her own mind. Her eyes clouded in sorrow as she reached out to touch his face, as if to dispel the myth and touch the reality. Her hand went through him. Sebastian’s smile turned into a puzzled frown as he disappeared and she woke up on the floor of the library with a raging headache and the sound of the ceiling caving in.
Lillian leaned over her and so did Thanar. They both looked down at her with concern.
Dazed Ciardis lifted her arm, looking for the wound that Sebastian had stitched up and wondering if she had really dreamed the entire conversation. Perhaps everything else that happened from before as well? No marks showed on her arm, no stiches sealed a wound and no blood splatter was in evidence on her vest underneath. So what had just happened then?
Turning confused eyes to Thanar, she said. “Did you heal me?”
Looking around she could tell that from the condition of the room, the battle had certainly been real.
He raised a curious eyebrow. “Not this time sweetheart.”
She blinked. “Don’t call me that.”
To her mother, Ciardis asked. “What happened?”
Lillian answered. “We were walking back to the parlor to see to the others. You collapsed on the floor, muttering Sebastian’s name.”
An arc of pain raced through Ciardis at the mention of the prince heir.
Desperate to know, she asked. “Is he here?”
“No,” said Thanar tightly.
“No, dear,” said Lillian, “But you know that wherever you go, he isn’t too far behind. We just have to get through these tribulation
s first.”
Ciardis’s eyes twitched as she fought to hold back a lone tear. It escaped as she hastily sat up and reached for her mother’s hand.
“What happened to me? Why do I feel like this?”
“What – tense and unhappy that your love is gone?” That was her mother.
“Delusionary and weak from loss of power?” That was Thanar.
Ciardis grimaced. “The power thing.”
“Well for one thing you almost fully drained the Cold Ones core of magic that resided in harmony with your own magic,” said Lillian while shooting a poisonous glare at Thanar, “That’s bound to give any mage whiplash. Including young and inexperienced Weathervanes.”
Thanar snorted. “Should have thought of that before you used the gift.”
Ciardis dropped her hand from her forehead where she was trying to rub out a headache. With a glare she said, “Well, excuse me for trying to help.”
He stood. “You’ll feel like shit until tomorrow.”
“Great,” Ciardis said, “Mother, will you help me into the parlor?”
“Of course dear,” said Lillian as she wrapped an arm about her waist to help her stand. They walked back over the debris, leaving the glaring daemoni in the background. As she walked Ciardis took a mental catalogue of her body, she was tired, delirious, bruised and, if possible, her gown was in further ruin. It had descended from merely blood-soaked and stinking to blood-soaked, stinking, and shredded. Which seemed to be a fairly consistent theme around her. She remembered with bitter amusement that the same thing had happened in the north.
She thought about Barnaren as she took in the destroyed second floor. He had been the first of the patrons to formally declare his intentions for her hand in the Patron Hunt and had even sought her out in a test of skills during the Blood Hunt to spear the white hart elk. The general had been the one who had ended up spread-eagled on the forest floor, speared by the tine of the very beast he had sought to hunt. He had lived to fight more battles, but unfortunately nothing could have stopped that wyvern’s bite.
“This reminds me of General Barnaren,” she whispered.
“What, dear? I didn’t quite catch that.”
Ciardis said, “I was there at Barnaren’s side when drew his last breath. He said we now have more time to prepare for the blutgott’s advance.”
“That’s nice dear.” Her mother clearly thought she was delusional.
Ciardis left out the fact that he hadn’t said how to defeat it. The only clue was to ally with the dragons. And right now, Ciardis thought miserably as the corpse of the under-dragon with its scales like brown jewels, appeared in front of her on the garden grounds. It looks like the dragons want us dead.
As they entered the library, a sharp whistle caught her attention. The sound had come from around the corner in the reading area offset from the main library.
“Over here,” said Caemon sharply.
Ciardis and Lillian walked over slowly to find everyone standing grimly around the fireplace and Inga’s unconscious form. Kane sat on the ground nearby. He had a battle-axe at the ready and was bruised and bloody but not broken. At some point in the battle he’d been hit by something. His right eye was swollen shut with red and purple bruising.
“What?” said Ciardis, “Did something happen to Inga?” She looked anxiously over at Kane, but his mouth was set in a grim line and he didn’t speak.
She knelt next to the frost giant. Tracing her fingertips on the blue skin, she felt the rigid tension of the frost giant.
“Her skin’s such an odd color.”
Kane said, “It’s not right. It’s more purple than blue.”
“What does it mean?”
“Nothing good,” he replied.
“What else do you notice?” asked Lillian from behind her.
“No heat radiates from her skin,” answered Ciardis, “It’s like feeling a corpse.”
Her heart sped up in fear. Quickly she felt for her pulse.
“She has a pulse. Her heart still beats. But it’s slow...too slow,” she said. “What is going on?”
Turning to Vana Ciardis said, “When you commanded her to sleep it was just a normal slumber, right? To rejuvenate her?”
Vana said, “It was...and it wasn’t. Sleep commands react differently to dark magic. This enchantment on her might have fused with the spell.”
“You mean it made it worse?” Ciardis said.
Vana leaned over to open her mage sight and study Inga’s aura.
Reluctantly she said, “I’m afraid so. She’s gotten worse. Much worse.”
Without commenting further Vana dropped to her knees, put both hands on Inga’s head and called up larger amounts of her magic. They watched silently as Vana pushed more of her gifts into Inga. Ciardis watched Vana through her mage sight. It wasn’t the same as spiraling with her into Inga’s mind. She’d done that only once before with Vana, in the Ameles Forest, as she fought the Shadow Mage’s hold in Barren’s mind. Vana had made it clear she wouldn’t tolerate Ciardis following her magically a second time.
Caemon said sharply, “Nothing’s happening.”
Ciardis said. “Wait for it.”
They all watched, tense, as Vana’s magic pushed against the dark purple barrier of Inga’s mind, time and again with no solution. Finally Vana emerged from her trance.
“Not something you can fix?” said Thanar in a dry tone.
“No,” said Vana, “Not like this. I just tried to wake her and I couldn’t even get past her damn mind shields.”
“She’s trying to protect herself,” said Kane. His eyes were hollow as he waited near his lover’s head.
“What does the mottled purple across her body mean?” asked Ciardis.
“It means she’s in distress...dying, maybe,” said Kane heavily. His tone held no hope.
“That can’t be,” said Ciardis, trembling.
She looked up and around. “By the gods’ own, where’s Thomas?”
Kane said. “He woke some time ago and rushed out. I couldn’t stop him.”
Caemon’s head snapped up. Then he rushed out of the room. Minutes later, Thomas came forward with muffled protests with an angry Caemon right behind him.
“I was just trying to take shelter,” complained Thomas, “Like everyone else. No need to be rough.”
He stopped protesting when he saw everyone gathered around the still form of his victim.
“Oh,” he said.
When he made it to them Thomas couldn’t take his eyes off Inga.
“You have to undo what you have done,” demanded Ciardis.
“I-I can’t,” whispered Thomas.
“Why not?” Ciardis said.
“Well, for one, mind entrapment isn’t meant to be undone,” he said, “You push someone’s emotions to the breaking point, confuse their minds and change who they are. And secondly, you all did a number on her. Whoever’s magic spiraled into her, only made her worse on top of what I did.”
That was not what she wanted to hear.
Ciardis moved with a speed that belayed her weakened state. “I am done with losing friends, done with watching everyone around me die—you will fix this.”
For a moment Thomas stared straight into her eyes. Darkness appeared in his eyes. She thought that she saw his pupils become orange slits. But it was gone in a flash and she was left to wonder what she had seen.
“I can’t,” he said, swallowing heavily. “I wish I could. Truly, I do. If I had known what I know now, I wouldn’t have taken this job...no matter how those shadow people threatened me. But it’s not in a mind mage’s ability to undo what they’ve done. It either wears off or it doesn’t.”
The knife in her hand trembled against his neck. She lowered it slowly and he dropped to his knees in relief.
“Then what do we do?” whispered Ciardis.
“We wait,” said Vana. “She’ll either overcome the deeper paralysis or she won’t.”
Thanar added, “Right now her
conscious is fighting for control of her mind. If she loses, I believe she’ll die. Which is why the purple of her skin is signaling distress. She’s fighting for her very existence.”
“You’re saying that all we can do to support her is stand here.” Ciardis felt helpless and furious. Inga had saved her life countless times. She wouldn’t let the frost giant who’d survived a mine blast and a trek through the frozen artic die before of a feeble mage’s inept attempt to silence her.
Caemon put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Instead of shrugging his hand off, she leaned back into the support of his arm.
“No,” said Kane as he stumbled to his feet. “It’s not.”
“What then do you suggest?” Lillian said, her voice sharp and focused. “If anything can be done, then we will do it.”
Everyone nodded their assent. Even Thomas.
“There was something Inga once told me,” Kane said, his voice low as he looked down upon his love fighting for her life. “That frost giants can commune together. They can share their strength and share their energies. It’s how they fight so well in battle. Not just as a physical unit, but as a force of shared power. The others will be able to share with her and fight to help her retake her mind.”
“So you’re saying that we need to get her back to the frost giant camp,” said Ciardis.
“Yes,” said Kane.
“Then let’s go!” said Ciardis.
“No,” said Lillian and Caemon at the same time.
Ciardis turned to them with fury on her face. “She’s dying.”
“We know that,” said Caemon. His tone was patient. “But we came here for a reason and Inga knew that.”
Before Ciardis could protest Kane spoke up. “He’s right. You need to continue with your mission. You need to warn the court of what is coming. Nothing can stop that, and you must not let anything stand in your way. I can escort Inga to her sisters.”
“And my nephew will get you as far as the northern mountains,” said Lord Steadfast in assurance.
Kane nodded his head in thanks. “Then it’s settled. We’ll be on the move within the hour.”
Ciardis knew it was for the best. Inga needed to go, Kane had to stay with Inga to protect her, and she needed to stay in Sandrin for her original mission. She ached to go with them. But she knew that it was better to stay and to fight this battle.