Dragon’s Call: Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  Chapter Fifteen, Bjorn

  I guessed why Rowan—Runa—had paid me an impromptu visit well before I netted her in a truth spell, and she stumbled about picking and choosing words. Once she got the bit in her teeth, though, she was pretty damned direct. Interesting the dragons—and I was certain it had to be Nidhogg and Ysien—had only focused on her name, not her dragon heritage.

  Bloodlines are very important to dragons, and I was close to positive they had hers mapped down to every relevant ancestor. Had they not known of her existence? Or were they biding their time, waiting for her to have a reason to embrace the wyrm half of her birthright?

  Ceridwen might have had reasons for hiding her dalliance with a dragon, but the dragon in question wouldn’t have been any more forthcoming. They didn’t breed outside the fold any more than the Celts did. Not that the Celts weren’t notorious for seducing mortals, but they made double damn certain their stray sperm—or eggs—didn’t result in progeny.

  “Well?” Rowan leaned back in her chair and kept right on boring a hole in me with her golden eyes. She was incredible. Perfect. Her scent hadn’t fully faded from when she nursed my hurt places. It eddied about me, and I yearned to hold her, stroke her unruly hair back from her comely forehead.

  I thought I’d moved past my body responding unbidden, but my cock thickened, pressing uncomfortably against the front of my trousers. I wanted to shove it to a better position, but I couldn’t. Not with her staring at me.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Um, look. I probably came off way too pushy. If my request crossed some lines, breached some rules I don’t know about—”

  I held up a hand. I’d given my word, and I wouldn’t welch. The dragons had cautioned me to steer well clear, but they hadn’t counted on Rowan’s singlemindedness, nor on me asking her about her name earlier.

  Naturally, she’d remembered the exchange.

  I sat straighter. “Your name is Runa. Not so different in sound, but very different in meaning.”

  Something, perhaps recognition, flashed from her eyes. “Secret,” she murmured. “It means secret, but who named me? And why did Mother call me something different?”

  I had ideas about that, but they’d remain within me for now. I reeled in the truth spell I’d draped around her. No more need for it.

  She blinked a few times and then shrugged. “I’m waiting, but nothing is happening.”

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Not sure. The skies to open up. Angels to sing. The secrets of the universe to show themselves to me.”

  The corners of my mouth twitched with annoyance. The dragons had led her to believe her name was the key to everything, when the reality was it was the merest of beginnings. Names took time to percolate, for the bearer to grow into them. Rowan meant tree with red berries, or little redhead. Innocuous as names went.

  I wanted to reassure her things would change eventually. But we needed to unravel the secret of her birth before we did anything else. How the hell we’d beat the truth out of Ceridwen remained to be seen, but Nidhogg wasn’t about to help. Probably in his dragon’s mind, he’d already provided far more assistance than he thought we required.

  Rowan pushed back from the table. “I should be going. I’ve infringed on your hospitality long enough.

  I bolted to my feet. “We must locate Ceridwen.”

  She angled her head to one side. “Why? The only reason I had for laying eyes on the conniving bitch again was to dredge my name out of her.”

  I scrabbled for a reason that didn’t include telling her about her dragon father. Nidhogg might forgive me for blurting her name, but he’d not take it well if I implicated one of his own in a forbidden alliance.

  Never mind it was true. The evidence sat across from me at my old, beat-up table. “Don’t you want to know who sired you?” I asked.

  Runa rolled her eyes and stood. “I’ve asked. A whole lot of times. Mother refuses to answer. It will require time and energy to track her down. After our last exchange, she won’t wish to be found, and she’s powerful enough to hide behind wards that will tax my power.”

  “Aye. Yours. You’ll have noticed our combined efforts are more than additive.”

  A predatory smile turned her beauty harsh and menacing. “I haven’t forgotten. It would aid us in locating her, but have you found a reliable way to force words from someone who doesn’t wish to utter them?”

  She paused long enough to blow out a breath. “Besides, what earthly difference does it make who my father is?” The corners of her eyes pinched from old hurts. “If he knew about me, he didn’t care enough to be part of my life. If he didn’t realize he’d created a child, Mother must have had reasons for hiding her pregnancy.”

  I recognized a small chink in Runa’s armor, and I drove a pick into it when I asked, “Aren’t you curious what those reasons were?”

  A scowl twisted her features. “Of course, I’m ‘curious.’ For years, I’ve been expecting to grow wings. Or a second head. Or be pulled into an alternative universe. Nothing unusual ever happened. Granted, the witches’ magic is weak as dishwater, but none of them ever drew me aside to hiss a confidential message about me carrying werewolf blood. Or goddess forbid, vampire.”

  Her scowl deepened. “The more I’ve thought about it, the surer I was she’d lain with a vampire. The few I’ve seen have been gorgeous. Stunning bodies. Quick minds. Delightful conversationalists. I can see Ceridwen deluding herself she could control such a pairing, and then getting jerked off her moorings. Nothing trumps blood for power. And you can’t punish something that’s already dead.”

  “Why wouldn’t she have destroyed the child?”

  I chose neutral words, playing devil’s advocate to get a point across without coming out and telling her dragon embryos were indestructible. Whether they hatched from eggs or wombs, once sperm and egg joined, a baby would result.

  Runa turned her hands palms up. “I have no idea, and I’ve wondered about it. A lot. You weren’t there, so you’ll probably think I’m exaggerating, but Ceridwen never wanted me. I spent years telling myself I was mistaken, that she had an odd way of showing she cared, but finally I gave up.”

  “Why?” My heart hurt for her. The arousal from earlier had departed, replaced by fury at her goddess mother. Even if Rowan—Runa—refused to accompany me, I’d find Ceridwen and give her the rough side of my tongue.

  “It wasn’t just one thing,” Runa murmured, “but a lot of little ones that were additive. She viewed me as more of a possession than anything else.” A bitter laugh burst from her. “She loved that cauldron of hers. And she respected the other Celts—most of them. At least, she set whatever she was doing aside to pay attention when one of them stopped in to visit.

  “I learned early that crying was useless. The occasional servant might pick me up, but it didn’t happen often. I remember scrounging for food when I was so small I was barely walking. It’s how I discovered I had magic. If I thought about something to eat hard enough, it would materialize in my hands.”

  “No one taught you?” Keeping my words even was a struggle.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Self-taught. I always wondered how much stronger I might have been if anyone had taken the time to nurture my ability.”

  We stood staring at one another. Almost as an afterthought, she made a grab for her mug and drained it. Her voice was laced with reproach when she said, “You know things you haven’t told me.”

  It wasn’t a question, so I nodded. “I’m certain you know things you’ve not told me, either.”

  “Not the same. You know things about me, things you’re not willing to share. Why? What the fuck is wrong with me that everyone pussyfoots around and talks in riddles?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I should have left once you gave me my name. Thank you for that. I only sound like an ungrateful bitch, but I very much appreciate whatever rules you had to bend to offer up my true name. I’ll figure out the rest of this on my own.”

 
Before I could come up with reasons to keep her in Vanaheim, she dragged magic around her and was gone. I didn’t stop to debate the wisdom of following her. I just did. I assumed she’d return to Midgard, but I summoned power designed to track her energy. It would ensure we emerged in the same spot, and it saved me from guessing wrong.

  I didn’t know much more about her, but the element I’d chosen to keep to myself was important. It could mean everything as her future unfolded. Particularly if Nidhogg and Ysien were right about Midgard being in its death throes.

  I emerged not far from the blood-soaked field where I’d spent so many hours. The reek of decay hit me like a wall. Sickly sweet and cloying. Damn it. The things I’d killed smelled worse dead than they had alive. As soon as the teleport spell spit me out in Midgard, I looked for Runa.

  And didn’t see her.

  What the fuck? I’d followed her trail—unless she’d anticipated my moves and stymied me on purpose. Power arced from me. I employed seeking magic as I hunted for her unique blend of dragon and Celtic energy. Breath rattled from me. If I hadn’t been determined, I’d have missed her entirely. She was here but swathed in wards.

  Apparently, Ceridwen wasn’t the only one who didn’t wish to be found.

  Too put out for subtlety, I barked a power word and the magic concealing her frittered to streamers swirling in a brisk, chilly breeze. She and I had talked far longer than I thought because dawn was breaking. A line of pink sat below the leading edge of a bank of ominous-looking clouds.

  Runa didn’t bother to close the distance between us. “Go away,” she shouted. “My life. My problems. You must have your own to deal with.”

  I felt like shouting back she didn’t know the half of it. Instead, I strode to her. “I’m not your enemy.”

  She angled a pain-laced look my way, brows furled and forehead creased into a web of fine lines. “At this point, buster, everybody but the witches are my enemy. The next time I see dragons, I’ll leave.”

  “Oh really?” Sarcasm bled through my words. I made zero effort to temper it when I added in Norse, “And have ye tried running from dragons? How’d that go for you?”

  “Like I told you. I’ll figure things out. The same way I have forever. By myself. I don’t need you. Or the dragons. Or anyone.”

  I wanted to slap sense into her. I wanted to drag her into my arms and crush my mouth over hers. She was beautiful. No Valkyrie could have outshone her. No, nor any of the goddesses in Asgard.

  The same deep, rhythmic booming that had presaged the goblins and gnomes and trolls began under my feet. Then, my magic had been mostly present. Now, I was like a candle that had been burned from both ends. I twisted to face the worst of the noise, putting my body between it and Runa.

  “What the fuck is that?” She wasn’t having any of my attempt to shield her and stood by my side.

  “Bad shit.” I didn’t have energy for better descriptors. “We can leave. Or we can fight. You choose.”

  One of the craters from the previous day heaved and rocked. The noise grew so strident, I shielded my ears with magic before the drums ruptured. I drew power and held it arcing between my hands as I waited for gnomes and goblins to burst through the expanding hole.

  The gap in the ground developed a swirling appearance, and I felt the muted pull of a vortex. “Keep away from the edge,” I said.

  “What? Did you think I couldn’t figure that out for myself? This isn’t my first battle. Or my second. I—”

  An impossibly large monster sprang through the hole. Big as two elephants, it looked like a griffon on drugs, but the neck was wrong. Long, reptilian, and dragonlike, it supported a raptor’s head. The rest of the beast was lionesque with patchy tawny fur. Instead of being smoothly covered, though, its body was riddled with brown pustules.

  I could smell the poison from where I stood.

  “What in god’s name is it?” Runa didn’t sound as rattled as I expected her to.

  “Does it matter?” I shot back. “It’s evil. We have to kill it.” As I regarded its unblinking avian eyes, dirty amber and the size of dinner plates, I hoped to hell dispatching it would be possible.

  “I get that part,” she growled, “but are there more of them? I’ve never seen its like on Earth before.”

  The thing cawed a challenge. Its beak was black and shiny and probably sharp as fuck. So large it could have cleaved a man’s head from his body, it snapped menacingly. Each time the edges clacked together I felt a jab in the pit of my stomach.

  The list I’d constructed in my cottage courtyard came back to me. This was one of the many evils I hadn’t recognized. I couldn’t recall its name, but I did remember the mix of magics Nidhogg had said would work on it.

  A wave of weariness washed through me. I shook it off. I was tired but not that tapped out. Dogged, determined, I started the process of weaving the net that should immobilize the hissing, cawing monster.

  “Do you know, or are you guessing?” Runa asked in mind speech, which proved she’d been helping herself to my thoughts. I’d have to remember she could do that when I had things I wished to keep private. Like her dragon blood. Luckily, it was a long way from the forefront of my mind.

  “Little of both.” I had no magic to spare on anything beyond my spell.

  She didn’t ask any more questions, but I felt power jolt into me as she joined her skills with my own. I welcomed her infusion of power. It could make all the difference between success—or the opposite.

  Afraid I’d jinx our efforts, I couldn’t bring myself to even think the word failure.

  The griffon-thing wasn’t into standing still while we plotted its destruction. Why would it? I’ve never had an enemy who’s made things easy for me. It moved awkwardly because it was so huge. Until it spread wings I hadn’t noticed. Black like the bird part of it, they were in far better shape than the rest of the beast.

  It took a running leap and bolted into the sky.

  I worked as fast as I could, but complex destructive magic takes time. Maybe more time than we had. The whoosh of its wings moved fist-sized rocks through the air.

  “Duck!” Runa shrieked.

  I feinted to one side as a rock that must have weighed two stone whistled past. I was just getting my feet back beneath me when I saw the monster, back feet extended, swooping toward Runa.

  She saw it too and erected a ward with lightning speed. It glistened around her, ripe with the colors of her power. Blues and greens and violets.

  My casting was almost ready. Almost. The beast pivoted until its front legs, tipped with sharp, nasty talons punched through Runa’s ward. I heard an explosion as her magic gave way, and the monster grabbed her by the shoulders. She’d yanked a blade from somewhere and was chanting like a madwoman as she stabbed at the thing’s clawed front feet.

  The pulse of her magic that had been powering our joint spell dimmed. If I was going to make a move, it had to be now. I gave it everything I had and heaved netting studded with lethal darts over the thing’s upper body. I did the same with a second net, but, this time, I captured its wings.

  Chanting furiously, I upped the magical flow powering the snares. I have no idea where I got the strength. Maybe from Runa. Maybe from Midgard. Hell, maybe Nidhogg was hiding nearby and reluctantly helping.

  Mostly, so he wouldn’t have to train a new lackey.

  He never had told me why I’d drawn the short straw. The Nine Worlds were full of likely candidates, most of whom would be better than me at keeping Midgard whole.

  My spell was working, but not as quickly as I’d have liked. Runa was suspended a few meters in the air, still stabbing at the talons dug into her shoulders. At least she hadn’t run into any of the poison-filled boils. I paid power out, funneling most of it at the netting around the thing’s head. I hadn’t counted on it nabbing Runa. Thanks to the netting around its wings, it wasn’t flying very well anymore. If it fell out of the air, it would land right on top of her.

  I couldn’t let t
hat happen. If it did, any number of boils would shower her with their contents.

  Should I neutralize the snare around its wings? No. If I did that, it might fly off with Runa as its captive. I opted for another approach. Diversion. Focusing a thin beam of white-hot power, I took out one of its eyes.

  Shrieking pain and outrage, it loosed its hold on Runa. She hadn’t been expecting it, but she recovered admirably and fashioned a canopy to cushion the worst of her fall. Limping, she hustled to my side.

  “Sorry. I never should have let it get me.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Let’s finish this.” My words were rough, harsh. I didn’t have much left, but the howling, bellowing monster couldn’t know that. I dug deep, tapping reserves I didn’t realize I had. Runa’s magic laced with mine again, weaker than it had been, but still welcome.

  Between us, we tightened both snares until the monster was trussed like a festival pig.

  Finally, when I didn’t see how the thing could still be airborne with its wings tangled together, it crashed to the ground a few meters away. The earth shook from the fucker’s bulk landing. Its body started to come apart. Poison spurted and ran into the earth. Clouds of noxious gas scored my nose and lungs.

  “Keep him busy,” rustled through my mind.

  I didn’t bother to tell her I’d do the best I could. I was too busy pummeling the monster with magic.

  Light on her feet as she avoided puddles of smoking venom, Runa went around behind the thrashing body. Grabbing onto protruding bones, she used them as a ladder. When she was high enough, she plunged her knife into the base of its feathered head, severing its spine.

  I would have cheered if I’d had anything left. I’d tell her how much her fearlessness impressed me, though. Once I caught my breath.

  The abomination bellowed once, quivered, and then lay still. I gathered the tattered edges of my spell and my magic. Neither were required any longer. The thing was dead. I clapped a hand over my mouth to reduce my exposure to poison leaking from what remained of the thing’s body.