Sorcha's Heart

by Mumford, Debbie

  Sorcha sang soothing words into Keeva’s link. “Rest, my friend,” she crooned. “Don’t let fear steal the last of your energy. Caedyrn and I will deal with the men. You shall have your feast. Close your eyes. Conserve your energy.”

  The pair of bond-mates cast a deep shadow over the glade when they arrived. Sorcha watched the villagers scatter and fought her desire to flame their homes out of existence. She reached deep within and found her human soul cowering behind her dragon indignation. Remember, she thought. Remember their fear, the terror of dragons on the wing. Remember what it is to be small and unscaled, with only your wits to save you.

  “Stay aloft,” she commanded Caedyrn as she landed beside Keeva and yanked stakes from the net. When the young female was free, Sorcha ordered her to take her ewe and escape. “Live well, my sister,” she called to the mauve. “Guard my eggs.”

  Keeva obeyed, and Sorcha turned her bulky body toward the pair of knights on horseback who rode at her with lances set. Caedyrn screamed his rage and frustration from the air above, but Sorcha gave a small downbeat of wings and hopped over the mounted men. While they turned, she cried in a voice rusty with disuse, “Bring me Elspeth. I would treat with the King’s Wizard.”

  The knights pulled up and kept their prancing horses at a safe distance. The one on the bay horse lifted his faceplate and asked, “How do you know that name?”

  Sorcha’s eyelids lifted closed as she remembered her mother—the warmth of her love, the smell of herbs that clung to her robes and hair, the joy in her smile when Sorcha succeeded in a simple charm. Elspeth. A woman of such intelligence and determination that she had risen to King’s Wizard despite all the stigma and prejudice arrayed against her. Grief that Elspeth would never understand her mate or their offspring assailed Sorcha as she replied, “She is my mother.”

  Before the knights could react or Caedyrn recognize her peril, the transformation began. Pain wracked Sorcha’s immense body. She burned from the tip of her pearly pink snout to the point of her thrashing tail. Her claws gouged the soft earth as she fought to keep from turning inside out. Waves of agony forced her to the ground. More intense than any sensation she’d ever endured, the pain twisted her gut, leaving her writhing and misshapen. The musty, moist smell of fresh- turned dirt assaulted her nostrils, and she knew she dug her own grave.

  Through a tunnel, far away, she felt Caedyrn land, heard him bellow for men to bring blankets, hot drinks, and the King’s Wizard. In her mind, through their private link, his voice cascaded over the fires searing her soul. “Be strong, my Sorcha. Don’t let go, my love. You must live. I need you. Our clutch needs you. You are the hope of the world.”

  She didn’t feel like the hope of the world. She didn’t feel like anyone’s hope. She succumbed to excruciating pain and consciousness fled.

  *~*~*

  Cold. Why was the lair so cold? Were her eggs safe? Sorcha couldn’t remember ever being this cold. The ice aerie felt refreshing, but never cold. She tried to open her eyes, to check on the safety of her clutch, but her muscles refused to respond. She lay still and fought to assess her ills. Grass tickled her body and the loamy scent of tilled earth tugged at her memory. A scratchy, rough wool blanket weighed on her limbs, but did nothing to ease the bone-chilling cold. She searched her mind for the bright, pulsing thread that connected her to the flight, and panicked when she couldn’t catch it.

  “No!” Sorcha screamed and threw her body upright against her muscles’ protests. Her eyes flew open and she fought to focus her eyes.

  The massive black dragon lowered his head and stared into her eyes. Caedyrn had inflated monstrously. They had been nearly of a size. Now he dwarfed her. She clutched the blanket to her breasts and stared in disbelief.

  “Be at ease, my love,” he said. His words lit the darkness in her mind and tamed the elusive connecting thread. “You are human once more.” She felt as well as heard the overtone of misery in his words. “But our bond remains strong. You will always be my bond-mate.”

  Careless of modesty, Sorcha struggled to her feet and threw herself at Caedyrn’s neck. She clung to the black dragon and sobbed, stricken by their loss.

  Caedyrn wrapped a wing around her, sheltering her from the villagers’ curious stares. The whole community stood at the edge of the field and whispered over the spectacle of a dragon shielding a human woman.

  “Sorcha?”

  Elspeth called her daughter’s name, and Caedyrn withdrew his curtaining wing. Elspeth stepped forward and offered a robe for Sorcha’s use. Sorcha accepted the covering and collapsed in her mother’s arms.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” Elspeth said to Caedyrn, “but I thank you for protecting my daughter.” She hugged Sorcha tightly, inclining her head to the massive beast.

  “Your daughter will explain all,” Caedyrn growled. “I will return when she calls.” The mighty dragon lifted from the earth and circled the soft blue sky.

  Sorcha raised her head and watched with swollen eyes as her heart and soul streaked toward the ice aerie — and home.

  *~*~*

  Elspeth stroked Sorcha’s hair as they sat in the village elder’s cottage. The townsfolk had retreated; allowing mother and daughter a measure of privacy, but Sorcha could hear their excited chatter just outside the thin wooden walls.

  “Drink your tea, my love,” Elspeth said.

  Even without a mind link, Sorcha could hear the fear and concern in her mother’s voice, but grief and loss clogged her throat and kept her silent. She took a tentative sip of tea and immediately spat it out. She’d forgotten that humans had to think about trivial things like the temperature of liquids. Rueful laughter followed the tea from her lips. She, who had expelled fire from her maw, couldn’t deal with a mouthful of hot tea.

  “Tell me, Sorcha,” Elspeth murmured. “Tell me what happened. What did that dragon do to you?”

  The cup clattered to the floor as Sorcha jumped to her feet and began to pace the kitchen. The elder’s wife’s best dress tangled around her legs, adding to Sorcha’s agitation. She stopped abruptly as she caught sight of herself in an ancient mirror that hung beside the elder’s desk. Between her rigid posture, blazing eyes and richly embroidered dress, she looked like a noblewoman. The thought grounded her. Time to put aside her disorientation and take up the destiny laid on her by the amulet, which weighed more heavily upon her psyche than its double- looped chain did upon her neck.

  “Caedyrn did nothing to me that I did not wish. This was my doing. Mine...and the Heart of Fire’s.” She yanked the medallion from around her neck and slammed it onto the table. “I found it. I summoned it from the lagoon, and yes, you were right about the cost. It transformed me into a dragon. It thrust me from one life into another, with no warning and no way to turn back.”

  As suddenly as it had begun, Sorcha’s indignation deserted her and she crumpled onto the hard wooden bench beside her mother. “And now it has pulled me back, and I don’t want to be here.”

  “What do you mean? Why don’t you want to be here?”

  “Because...” She drew a shuddering breath and lifted tear-filled eyes to meet her mother’s. “I found my soul-mate. I bonded with Caedyrn. He is my life.” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed with soul-deep misery.

  “Sorcha, darling, think! You’re confused. You don’t know what you’re saying. That was a dragon, our mortal enemy. He has bewitched you.”

  Sorcha dried her eyes and stared at her mother with all the glacial ice of her distant home. Fear bloomed in Elspeth’s eyes.

  Illumination seared Sorcha’s soul, and she plucked the Heart of Fire from the table’s solid surface. Her ambassadorship had never been the flight’s to grant. The Heart of Fire intended her to represent humanity, but from a perspective of never-before-possible understanding.

  “Take me to the king,” she commanded. “I must fulfill the destiny the Heart of Fire has laid upon me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ambassador of
Peace

  King Leofric regarded Sorcha with distrust and distaste. “You expect me to believe that necklace transformed you into a dragon?”

  “I do, Sire,” she replied. The icy calm that had gripped her soul since Caedyrn returned to their clutch allowed her to bear the King’s obvious disbelief with equanimity. “I have witnesses to my transformation. Your own knights will verify my tale.”

  She saw his eyes flick to the other side of the hall where armored men stood in uneasy silence.

  “Yes, very well.” He sighed and rubbed his stubbled chin. “Assuming I accept your statement, what is it that you expect of me?”

  “I expect you to listen to me as I explain the peculiarities of a dragon’s hearing. I expect you to appoint me ambassador and allow me to help you negotiate with their representative when I invite him to return. I expect you to forbid your knights and subjects to harm a single scale of a dragon’s hide while we hammer out a truce.”

  Leofric stilled, his expression cold and stiff. Grumbling erupted from the men behind her, and she ignored them with effort. Her ears no longer retained dragon sensitivity, but she had grown disused to physical sound. The echoes in this stone hall worried her nerves. Even the tapestries lining the walls couldn’t provide the dampening effect she longed for. When Caedyrn returned, negotiations would need to be held in an open meadow. Someplace where sound could dissipate and not bounce around to assault his delicate hearing over and over again.

  “Be careful, young woman,” Leofric growled. “I think you forget to whom you speak.”

  She doused the flames of anger and retreated behind a mask worthy of the aerie’s ice. Bowing her head, she said, “Forgive me, Sire. This has been a very stressful time for me.” Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Sire, I remain in contact with the flight of dragons. If you will guarantee his safety, I will request that my, uh, my colleague join us for negotiations.”

  “And who will guarantee my safety?”

  “I will, Sire.” Her pulse raced with the magnitude of the lie she was about to utter. But alien or not, she trusted dragonkind far more than she trusted humans. Her time with the flight had shown her little in the way of deceit or treachery. Traits she knew well on the human side of the equation. “The Heart of Fire has magnified my powers. I am fully capable of protecting you from human and dragon alike.” She paused and turned to face the king’s knights. “I am also capable of exacting a terrible price from any who breaks the king’s peace.”

  Leofric remained silent for a moment and then said, “So be it. You will act as my ambassador. You will be present at all negotiations to augment my understanding and guide my decisions, but make no mistake. They will be my decisions.”

  He clapped his hands and cried to the room at large, “Let the dragon ambassador return under my personal protection.”

  He paused, narrowed his eyes and stared directly at Sorcha. “Be warned, Wizard. If this dragon breaks my peace, your life will be forfeit.”

  Sorcha bowed and murmured, “As you wish, Sire,” before turning to leave the room.

  Upon reaching the safety of her assigned chamber, Sorcha barred the heavy wooden door and collapsed on the bed. She took several calming breaths before touching the link to Caedyrn’s mind. The golden thread sizzled and sparked, and she felt the familiar warmth of his presence.

  “Welcome, my love,” he murmured. “Are you well?”

  She laughed, giddy with relief at the concern in his thoughts. “I am well. The King is suspicious of my request to allow a dragon at court, but I am in no danger. How are our children?”

  “Keeva dedicates herself to their care. She blames herself for your loss. The Rex himself has vowed to guard them if I am called to return to the south. Will you call me, my love?”

  “Yes. King Leofric has placed you under his personal protection. Come when the Rex allows and we will negotiate the peace as the Heart of Fire intended.”

  “I’m not sure what the Heart of Fire intended,” he growled, “but I am grateful for our time together.”

  She felt his emotion light her soul, and shivered with a cruel mixture of delight and despair. “As am I. I’m not happy with this turn of events, but I am grateful. Give Keeva my love and my thanks. She is not to blame.”

  “I will tell her you said so. Be well, my love. I will join you tomorrow.”

  *~*~*

  Unable to sleep, Sorcha climbed to the battlements to greet the dawn. She carried herself with dignity though she could feel the suspicious glances of the guards who paced the wide stone walkway. Stepping into the shadow of a deep crenellation, she turned in time to see one warrior sketch a protective sigil between him and where she stood. As deep purple turned to rosy orange, she surveyed the brightening fields with tear-misted eyes. Once, this castle and its bustling town had been her home. She’d been happy here, practicing her craft and avoiding messy entanglements with men who found a young woman of power a compelling aphrodisiac. But then she’d chosen to call the Heart of Fire, and the price had indeed been great.

  She blinked back her tears and studied her homeland. The sheltered valley rose in the southern distance to foothills and majestic crags, but at the north, a lake winked in the sun’s first rays. The forest behind the lake remained dark, but the meadow before it gleamed with green-gold promise.

  There, she thought. We will hold our council there before the lake. She raced down from the battlement, ignoring the whispered comments of the servants going about their morning tasks.

  “You there, squire,” she called to a youth standing near the castle gate.

  He turned and approached with obvious reluctance. “My lady?”

  “Run and fetch the castle steward. Ask him to join me there.” She turned and pointed up to the top of the gate. “A gold piece will be yours if you have him back within ten minutes.” The young man’s face brightened and he ran to do her bidding.

  He returned well within the allotted time, urging a panting older man in his wake. Sorcha laughed and pulled the promised coin from her pocket. The youth hesitated for only a moment before taking it, but avoided touching her fingers. Her smile hardened and she turned to face the steward.

  “Thank you for coming, Sir Dougal. Please, join me.”

  The dignified, gray-haired man moved to stand beside her on the battlement. “How may I be of service?”

  “I’ve decided that our negotiations with the dragon should take place beside the lake.” She directed his attention to the meadow she’d chosen. “Please arrange for a pavilion for the king’s comfort.”

  They spent a few moments discussing details about what the meeting would require, and then the steward bowed over her hand and left to make the preparations.

  With that duty performed, Sorcha set out to walk to the lake. She strolled down the main street of the village, pretending she neither knew nor cared that the folk stared and made protective signs. Once beyond the gate, she relaxed and enjoyed her solitary stroll. The sun was well up by now and the sky a soft, hazy blue. Buttercups bloomed in profusion and red clover dotted the meadow. Before her sojourn in the ice aerie, she would have been watching for medicinal herbs as she walked, but now the sky called her. Gods and goddesses! It would be a glorious day for a flight!

  She stopped, closed her eyes, and grounded herself in the here and now. She was what she had been born to be — a human woman with magical gifts. The breeze whispered through the tall grass, wafting sweet scents of blossoms and good earth to her nose. Birds warbled in bushes at the water’s edge, and she detected the scurrying pace of a small creature in the undergrowth at her feet. The sun felt warm on her face and she could access her power once again.

  Give it time, she thought. Life will be good again. But she knew she would never be completely happy, not without Caedyrn.

  With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes and continued to the lake’s edge. Once there, she found a good sized rock, sat down and called Caedyrn to the chosen place. She barely touched his mind b
efore she saw him soaring toward her, at first no larger than an eagle.

  Her heart skipped a beat as he landed gracefully beside the lake. She jumped from her rock perch, ran forward and launched herself at him. Even widespread, her arms couldn’t span his chest.

  He stroked her back with a single claw. “You are so tiny, my love,” he crooned into their link. “I must be careful not to crush you, or burn you with a flame.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “If you did, I would die happy. I’ve missed you so!”

  “Your fragility concerns me,” he said. “Climb onto my back where I’ll know you’re safe.” She stepped carefully up on his knee and then pulled herself onto his shoulder. She nestled comfortably at the joint where his folded wing met his broad back, and caressed his leathery scales.

  “What will become of us, Caedyrn?” she asked, leaning her cheek against his shoulder and reveling in his smoky smell.

  “We will love from afar,” he said. “We are bonded for eternity. I do not know about your human heart, but there can be no other for me.”

  “Nor for me,” she agreed. “When they are old enough, you will bring the children to meet me?” A painful bubble threatened to steal her breath, making her glad she didn’t have to speak aloud to be understood.

  “Of course,” he said. “They will be proud to know you, as is the entire aerie. Keeva and her lair mates sing your praises to our children already, though they are still in the shell.”