Obsidian Wings

by Clara Hartley

  Greta hadn’t let Constance use any spells the day before. She had only gone through the basics of harnessing souls and demonstrated some elemental magic. Constance was supposed to be more excited for this lesson, but thoughts of Rayse distracted her.

  The dragon lady unscrewed the lid off her jar and chose an unsuspecting, unfortunate creature. She shut the container and placed it on the ground. The lizard writhed under Greta’s grip in a gross fashion, then fell into a limp dangle after the old woman uttered the two phrases to harvest its soul. She had explained that most spells required both dull and bright souls to work, save for the ones that used herbs as a crutch. Greta clutched her wrist and pointed her hand to the empty valley of the mountains. “Glacilis provoto.”

  An icicle-shaped gust of bluish mist poured from Greta’s hand and sprayed into the void.

  The spell was breathtaking. Short, yes—it lasted no more than a second. But watching the soul twist, transform, and morph into a sudden burst of power fascinated Constance. A few days ago, she wouldn’t imagine such magic possible, but here it was. She had just stepped into an endless expanse of possibilities, and the eagerness to explore it overwhelmed her.

  “There,” Greta said. “Now your turn.”

  Constance did the same as Greta and picked her sacrifice from the jar. Harvesting the souls ought to disgust her, but it always did the opposite and left her invigorated. The souls fed her curiosity like a life source. They formed dancing mists around her hand and drew her in with their beauty. And to think that such magnificent, awesome power hid in the souls of such dull, unsuspecting creatures…

  She mimicked her mentor’s actions. “Glacilis provoto.” An icy chill grazed her fingertips. The strength of it billowed through her like a storm. She gritted her teeth and kept her left hand clenched tightly over her right wrist. Constance thought the force coming from her hand would throw her backward, but it ended as quickly as it came. She had finished the spell and was still on her feet.

  She breathed out a shocked gasp. “What was that?”

  Greta now had glasses over her eyes. “That was quite surprising indeed.”

  “You wear glasses? I thought dragons had perfect eyesight.”

  The old woman tucked her lenses away. “They do. I take them out when I want to look serious.”

  Constance resisted a judgmental glare. “Okay… Anyway, how did I do?”

  “Splendid. Amazing. And I thought my son was the strongest magic user around here. Then again, dragons don’t do very well wielding magic. Humans have a stronger affinity to it.”

  “You have a son?”

  “Of course I do.” Greta waved her hand. “Never see him much. Too busy living his life.” She turned her head to where their magic had flown. “Did you see the size of your glacilis? That was terrific.”

  “Uh… no.” Constance was preoccupied with trying not to have her bum land on the rocky ground.

  “You’re a natural at this. Your power might rival the witches of Ocharia. The witches of the old, even. Dragon Mother bless us, your talent is unbelievable.”

  Words were lost to Constance. She wasn’t sure how to react to such praise.

  “Your control over your magic is dreadful, yes. But the potential…”

  She frowned. “But I just said the exact same words you did. Nothing special.”

  Greta rolled her eyes. “So ignorant. You don’t understand how it works, do you? Everyone has a special affinity with magic, but the extent varies. Rayse has barely any penchant for the art, like most male dragons. My son is a special case because of his father. God, I miss that man. Anyway, I’m simply saying your chemistry with magic is unlike any I’ve seen before.”

  Greta’s speculation fell on perplexed ears. Constance couldn’t imagine herself being as gifted as the old woman pronounced. She was an ordinary village girl with a troubled past. Why would she, out of so many other women, be as special as Greta said she was?

  Greta tapped her chin in contemplation. “It only makes sense, of course. You’re the Black Menace’s mate, which means you’re the other half of his soul. Rayse’s partner can’t be a drab.”

  Rayse… maybe he didn’t come home because he was looking for a way to unravel a mate bond. If Constance had been hurting him as much as Greta said, then their bond was more a curse than a gift to him. She wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to part. She was nothing more than damaged goods.

  The painful remarks from his lips yesterday festered in her mind. They sounded worse each time they played in her mental echo chamber. She assumed Rayse hated her. The thought of his accusatory glare, his brushing her aside and abandoning their newly budding relationship, sent a spear through her chest.

  “Pumpkin, are you listening?” Greta’s voice splintered Constance’s inner ramblings.

  “Huh? Oh, yes.”

  Greta snorted. “You lying fruit. Your mind was obviously in some other far away land.”

  Constance rubbed the back of her neck. “Yes, sorry.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “It’s probably just me thinking too much anyway—”

  Greta tossed her a mouse. Together with the critter, Constance let out an alarmed squeak.

  “If it’s just that, then focus,” Greta said. “Here, give the spell another go. Try to make it more precise. You don’t want to be hitting dragons you don’t want to.”

  Constance was gasping for air when she finally managed to wrestle the little creature from the ground. She caressed the top of its head. Its fur prickled her skin with a grimy, sticky touch. It made her want to release it once more.

  She breathed in a sigh, then willed the soul of the animal to leave its body with the harvesting spells. Like a wilting plant, it went dull and fell limp in her hand.

  “You’ve really caused me a lot of trouble, Bastion,” Rayse said. He sat on top of a hill, overlooking Everndale. His mind spun and nausea gripped him. Three days of no sleep wore him down like a woodpecker’s beak on a bark. His inner dragon was relentless. The yelling in his head that urged him to go back to Constance wouldn’t stop.

  He wanted to go back and forfeit the harsh things he had said to her. Soon, he told himself. Once he sorted the mess the rogue dragons were causing, he’d return and have her back in his arms.

  He tapped Bastion’s head. “She would be so much more accepting if you weren’t such a nasty bastard.”

  He heard Shen’s footsteps behind him. “Sorry to intrude milord— Is that a human head?”

  Rayse intertwined his fingers in Bastion’s bloodied hair. He stood up, picking up the head as he went, then flung the cunt as far as he could. The bloodied face shot across the sky, diminishing in size until it became nothing more than a black dot against the orange twilight.

  He’d wanted to kill the city guard as soon as Constance told her his story. After he left her last night, he’d hunted Bastion down in Everndale. Searching for the man was child’s play—the city officials would always let Rayse have his way. He was not one for torture, but the need to torment Bastion had pooled in him the entire night. The ass had done too much harm to his mate; thus, Rayse saw that he met sufficient punishment.

  The screams of Bastion still rang in his mind. Waterfalls gushed from the man’s eyes when Rayse had pushed him onto a marbled table and snapped his arm in half.

  Shen wrinkled his brow. “Pardon me asking, milord, but why were you keeping a human head with you?”

  Rayse snorted. “A bad idea for a gift.”

  Shen’s looked curious but didn’t press further. “We’ve mobilized our best teams to do the scouting, as you’ve requested. We’ve found them.”

  Rayse padded forward and took off his shirt as he went, ready to summon his dragon. “Where?”

  “They weren’t far from where you spotted them yesterday. They’re a few tens of miles from here.”

  “Their numbers?”

  “Too many to be up to any good. At least ten.”

  He cursed under
his breath. That was more than the size of all his currently commissioned teams combined. He could summon more, but then he’d have to wait, and they’d lose their trail. Most of his other dragon men were involved in courier services and weren’t available on an immediate basis.

  Normally, this wouldn’t faze him, but he wasn’t feeling well and wanted some backup to maintain a clear advantage. He brushed his hand through his hair and sighed. “Gather our men somewhere close to their site. Prepare to fight.”

  The stalactites of the limestone cave formed sharp shadows on the rocky walls. Light streamed from small gaps at the top of the lair, dimly brightening the interior. The sound of running water trickled in the background of the high-ceilinged cavern. The damp scent of molded rock wafted in the air.

  Rayse stepped into the hideout. The place was empty. “Where are they?”

  Shen ambled behind him in dragon form. “They’re supposed to be here. They were half an hour ago, anyway. Perhaps they’re deeper in.” The path down the cavern seemed to meander on endlessly.

  Rayse trod onward, inspecting the area as he went. The scraping of talons on the ground followed him. A group of his eight best-trained warriors had their claws extended, each ready to face a fight. His eyes threatened to close despite the dire nature of their situation. He was starting to see dancing figures on the walls.

  Need to rest, he thought.

  The image of Constance wouldn’t leave his mind.

  They rounded a section, and a mass of whimpering women came into view. Some of them clutched little girls to their chests. Their faces showed determination and fear. The women—too many of them—were trapped in a large metal cage, reminding Rayse of livestock.

  “So, this is where the women from those hamlets are,” Shen said.

  Rayse nodded. “They’re probably going to be sold off for money.” Such deeds were supposed to be a thing of the past after his rule, but wiping evil from the world was an impossible task. “Stay alert,” he ordered his men. “Chances are, these dragons are lurking around the corner. They haven’t moved their victims yet.”

  As if confirming his suspicions, the sound of ripping flesh and growling tore through the echoing chambers. He flared his nostrils and sensed the embers in his gut blaze in anticipation. He had to concentrate… Already, his muscles threatened to turn into jelly, and he wanted nothing but to nod off.

  As elite as his warriors were, the enemy outnumbered them. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight.

  Reptilian figures stalked from the shadows. A roar pierced the air. He found himself on his back. A bad-breathed gray dragon had a talon clutched over his chest. The sound of a fiery battle played a loud chorus around him. He narrowed his eyes, then with quick, honed reflexes, breathed fire into his opponent’s eyes to blind him. Rayse swung his head against the attacking dragon’s, and the force threw the gray beast aside. Rayse stood on his feet, then leapt at the assailant and lunged for his neck.

  A sharp pain shot through his right wing. The iron smell of his own blood hit his nose. He turned back in shock, seeing that part of his wing had been cut off. The knifelike agony dulled into an incessant ache. His gaze met the culprit, who smiled a sinister, teeth-filled grin at him.

  Rayse had been shoddy with his fighting. The grogginess of the mating had caused him to falter. The force of a large boulder slammed into him. Razor-edged fangs bit into his neck and a jagged claw sank into his lower belly. Stars met his eyes. Another blinding trauma shot through his other wing. Panic sank into his stomach—was he going to lose his ability to fly in this battle? Dragon wings ripped clean off would never regenerate, and he’d be crippled for life.

  With sudden rage, he spun and pried the gray dragon away from him. His opponent was incessant in his assault and wouldn’t let go. Rayse’s flesh tore away with the claws of his attacker. He withheld a shriek of pain, focusing all his energy on defeating these two dragons. A large thwack and the breaking of bone cracked through the air as the gray dragon hit the cavern wall. Rayse turned his attention to the other dragon, and, with a massive effort, tightened the dragon’s neck in his bite and snapped it in half.

  The dizziness of blood loss plagued him. The gray dragon had managed to dig his claws close to Rayse’s heart. He was probably going for the organ itself, but missed, much to Rayse’s relief.

  His wounds throbbed furiously. He let out a battle cry and threw himself at the gray beast before it could get up. With a decisive blow, he plunged his talons into his opponent’s chest. The dragon squirmed under him as Rayse dug for its heart. Grunting, he pulled the organ out. The assailant let out one final scream before collapsing into a lifeless heap.

  Rayse stepped back, covered in crimson. The adrenaline fueling his actions flowed away as soon as his fight ended. And then it came all at once—the pain, the fatigue. He winced at the ache trying to move his foreleg caused. He must have injured his leg, somehow, but the fury of battle had distracted him from it. He wanted to see if his team were doing all right, but couldn’t even find the strength to peer around him.

  The vocalizations of combat reverberated through the cave. The scent of crackling flames and blood enveloped his surroundings.

  Constance…

  Even energy to utter that one name had left him. He wanted to see her. He needed to be with her and tell her that he didn’t mean to say such horrible things. For the first time in so many centuries, he cared for someone, and that was a joy as much as it was agony. She represented emotion and companionship—more than he ever thought he deserved.

  His breath hitched in his throat, then his body slumped to the ground.

  Chapter 16

  Constance tried to read through the material Greta had highlighted for her, but her mind was somewhere else. “Do you think he hates me?” she asked Nanili. “Is that why he isn’t home yet?” It had only been a day since their quarrel, but leaving things unsettled made time crawl by too slowly. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to see my face. I don’t blame him. The truth came out yesterday.”

  The mishram merely shrugged, then continued to stare onward. Constance sighed. Talking to the mishram was little better than talking to a wall. “Well, I don’t want to see him either,” she muttered.

  She couldn’t put her finger on why she was starting to care for him so much. Men are monsters—that had been her mantra for the longest time. It wasn’t just her soul pulling her to him. Somehow, he had won her trust. He hadn’t slept with her since the first night, and she could tell it caused him pain. He was endangering his life for her. She had seen it for herself when he took that beating from Ranwynn. That touched her. She couldn’t think of any other men who would do the same, not even Eduard.

  Rayse wasn’t the most agreeable fellow, but that didn’t mean he was unkind.

  But he might’ve let a village die yesterday… and the way he treated Eduard and Frieda nearly made Constance wet herself. Who was he really?

  She shut her book of spells, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do much reading that night, not with her thoughts everywhere. “If it’s as bad as Greta says, then maybe I should give myself to him.” The thought made her skin crawl, but not in a bad way. She hated herself for being so open to the idea.

  A loud thumping came from the front door. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and she leapt to her feet in seconds. Was he back? What would she say to him? She smoothed her hands over her hair and tucked a stray strand behind her ear.

  She ran across the living room. Her emotions were in a flurry. She reached for the handle and swung the entrance open. “Rayse—” Thoughts of warm greetings flushed away the moment she saw Shen holding her mate. There was blood everywhere. Too much of it. “Wh-what… happened?”

  Shen walked past her in haste. “He needs treatment, immediately.”

  Dread shot through her like an arrow. “I’m not sure I can…” She’d only just arrived at Dragon Keep, and even though she was a healer, she hadn’t learned enough about curing dragons.

&nbs
p; “You have to.” Shen padded up the stairs to Rayse’s bedroom. “You’re his only chance.”

  She trailed behind him. “What about Greta?”

  “We can’t let anyone else know about him. I had to sneak him away in the chaos of battle. His other warriors don’t know about his injuries. They’ll start issuing him challenges to take over his place as femrah once they find out.”

  “Then why tell me?”

  Shen snorted, then laid Rayse down onto the bed. His blood stained the sheets. “You’re his femriahl. You won’t betray him.”

  “You’re not going to try and issue a challenge?” The contents of her stomach turned when she peered down at Rayse. He sported injuries everywhere. A dam in her spirit threatened to collapse, and tears brimmed in her eyes. Greta had warned her about this. The blame of his current state rested squarely on her shoulders. He was the most powerful dragon in Gaia, and the need to mate that their unfinished bond forced upon him weathered him this much. I’m so, so sorry…

  Shen shook his head. “My loyalty is with Lord Rayse. He’s the most suitable to rule this clan. I’m not sure I’m capable of taking his place. Power is a double-edged sword. I won’t be able to do what he does. The peace he has spent so many years weaving would unravel should he pass.”

  Her nerves quaked at the severity of Shen’s wounds. He had done a rushed job of tying the bloodied gaps in Rayse’s flesh with cloth. The bandages were already soaked in blood.

  She bit down on her tongue and summoned her courage. This wasn’t the first wounded man she’d have to care for. She had only been Greta’s apprentice for a few days, but had twelve years of training as a human healer. She could use those.

  “Nanili, we have bandages, yes?”

  “Yes,” the mishram responded.

  “Medicinal brews?”

  “Master Rayse has a small stockpile of them should he need to use them urgently.”