by Mary Karlik
“I found an opening to a smaller cave hidden by a glamour. The feeling of magic is strong there. It’s just a wee way farther, but I don’t think you’ll be able to stay out of the water.”
Ian nodded. “That water is bloody cold. We’ll stay on the stones as long as we can.”
Layla bit back her growing irritation as the men struggled to maneuver over the uneven stones. A few meters from the cave, they dropped into the water. It was only waist deep to the humans, but each one sucked in a deep breath as the cold hit them.
She pointed to the opening in the wall. “It’s just there.”
They slogged along until they reached the chamber. Finn climbed out of the water with ease, but the stones were slippery, and it was a challenge for the humans. It wasn’t until after Theo lost his grip and wound back in the water that she thought to use her magic to boost them out. After all, they were humans—no wings, no magic.
Once they crawled inside the chamber, she created a ball of light, illuminating the cave.
The walls were smooth and white, and there was a pool of milky water in the center. The men sat around the pool but had to hunch over to keep their heads from touching the ceiling.
Theo looked around the cave. “Now what?”
Ian shook his head. “It would have been lovely if Dorach had left instructions.”
Finn clocked his gaze around the cave. “There’s a lot of magic here. I can feel it.”
“Even I feel it. Like something’s breathing down my neck.” Buzzard ducked a little lower.
“The water looks kind of magic.” Jack dipped his finger in the pool. “Maybe do something with the wand over the water.”
Layla held the wand over the water and flicked it. The tip sparked but fizzled as quickly as it had appeared.
“Maybe you’re not flicking it hard enough,” Theo offered.
Layla repeated the process with a harder action, but again the wand just sparked and fizzled.
Theo stretched his neck sideways. “We’re missing something obvious.”
“Does the wand have to be specific to a person?” Buzzard asked. “Maybe Finn or Ian has to use it.”
Layla held the wand toward Ian. “Not usually. But who knows with this wand?”
Ian took the wand and flicked on the water with the same result. “The definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Theo’s right. We’re missing something.”
Layla flew around the cave inspecting the walls. “There aren’t any more glamours. It has to be the water.”
Jack stared into the pool. “It’s a portal.”
Everybody looked at him.
He held his hand toward it. “Look at it. It’s round. It’s different than the other water. It has to be.”
“Or a trap,” Ian said.
“It could be. But the only way to know is to try it. Otherwise, we’re stuck on this island.” Jack leaned over the pool and shoved his arm into the water up to his shoulder. A flash of sliver sparked from the center, and he was swallowed into the pond head first.
Buzzard gave Layla a sideways look. “Have I mentioned how much I dislike magic?” He slid in feet first. As soon as he was beneath the water, Theo followed. Then Finn.
Layla human-sized and sat on the edge next to Ian. “I have that puppet-on-a-string feeling again. There’s something at play here that we’re missing.”
Ian nodded. “I feel it, too. And I don’t like the idea of either one of us going down this rabbit hole last.”
“And the dragon?”
“Quiet. And that makes me nervous.”
“Me too. But I’ll take my chances, if you’re willing to go together.”
“Aye.” He twisted to face her, and she circled his waist with her arms. He pulled her tight against his body as they slid into the water.
The portal was dark, and the path was turbulent. As hard as they both tried to hang on to each other, he was ripped from her arms. The turbulence intensified after Ian tumbled away. She screamed as she plummeted through the air. The wind pulled at her cheeks and wings and then everything was still, and there was ground beneath her.
Seagulls called in the distance. Layla opened her eyes and immediately shielded them from the sun as she looked around to find the others. What she saw made her gut clench. To her right, laid out on the sand a few meters from her, were the unconscious bodies of Finn, Buzzard, Jack, and Theo.
She heard a moan come from her left and turned to find Ian on his back. A figure stood over Ian holding a sword with the point tilted at Ian’s heart.
Meaban.
Layla tried to hit him with a freeze spell, but when she flung her energy at him, it fizzled at her fingertips.
The elf shook his head. “I sealed everybody’s magic.”
Layla pushed back on her elbows. “How did you get here?”
“I knew where the wand would take you, and I need a dragon’s heart. I almost had Fauth’s heart, but then you killed him.”
“Why did you need Fauth’s heart?”
“To get the crown.” He stretched one leg out and hitched his hip. “You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”
“No. But I know you’re not getting this dragon’s heart.” Layla kicked the blade. It swung away from Ian, but Meaban maintained a two-handed hold on the hilt.
Meaban nodded. “Good try.” He held the sword up and inspected the blade. “Do you really think you’d have managed to take the wand if I hadn’t allowed it? The thing is virtually useless by itself. But I need blood from a dragon slayer and a dragon’s heart to get the crown. So, I put a spell on the wand, created a little mystery, and here we are.”
He tipped the sword toward Ian’s chest again. “All I have to do is get him to shift and cut his heart out. I get a two-for-one. A slayer and a dragon’s heart.”
Ian squinted up at him. “Then you have the wrong dragon, mate. I’m not a slayer.”
Ian’s confession caught the elf off guard. He tried to hide it, but she saw the surprise flick in his eyes. “He’s right.”
Meaban lowered the sword. “Who killed the dragon then?”
Layla fairy-sized while Ian answered the question. “A human.”
“A human? How?” He dug the sword tip into the sand and leaned on the hilt.
“Tip right through the eye all the way to the brain. Very effective.” Ian kept his eyes on Meaban as Layla flew behind the elf.
Layla eased her sgian dubh from her boot. She human-sized and pressed the dagger against Meaban’s throat before he had a chance to react. With her free hand, she reached around him, took his sword, and pressed the blade across his belly. “If you move your hands, if I even think you’re about to use magic, I’ll slice your throat. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” The word was strained—possibly because of the pressure against his throat. Or maybe it was blood trickling down his neck.
Ian stood and took the sword from Layla. “I think he has some questions to answer.”
Layla kept the blade on his neck. “What have you done? Why are they unconscious?”
Meaban didn’t move. “A wee spell is all.”
“So, reverse it.”
“I can’t.”
“How long will this wee spell last?” Ian pointed the sword at the elf.
He shrugged. “Didn’t bother to find out. Maybe an hour.”
“Great. We don’t have an hour to wait.” Layla spoke into the elf’s ear. “You need to free my magic.”
The elf smiled and shook his head. “Can’t.”
Ian took a step closer. “I think you can.” He held the sword tip close to Meaban’s face. “Through the eye, straight to the brain. That’s all it would take.”
Layla felt Meaban tense beneath her hold. “Est.” She pulled the dagger away and shoved him to the ground. “You’ve used all the magic you stole, haven’t you?”
The elf crawled to his hands and knees. “I wouldn’t have if somebody hadn’t s
tolen my supply of magic.”
Layla looked at Ian. “Without fairy magic, he’s less than a pitiful excuse for an elf.” She looked down on Meaban. “I could kill you right here. I would have no problem ending the life of a creature like you. If you want to live, you’ll help us.”
Meaban sat cross-legged in the sand. “You can threaten me, but you need me as much as I need you.”
He was right, but Layla wasn’t going to let him get to her. She snapped her wings wide. “What’s so important about the crown?”
“It gives the wearer power over the dragons. Imagine, I will control all of those lovely creatures when the barrier falls.”
Ian stood in front of the elf. “How do reckon you’re going to find the crown?”
“According to legend, it’s up that wee hill, hidden in a stump in the forest.” He pointed to the steep incline behind him.
Ian raised his gaze to the hill and back to Meaban. “You said you need a heart and blood. What’s that all about?”
“The blood has to be squeezed over the stump for it to reveal the crown. Only a dragon slayer can do it.” He looked at Layla. “And if my sources are correct, you killed Fauth when he was in human form, so you don’t count.”
“We need to get that crown.” Layla stomped between Meaban and Ian. “And since Buzzard can’t get there on his own, we’ll have to take him.” She stopped in front of Meaban with her hands on her hips. “Drop your plaid.”
“What?”
“Drop your kilt. We’ll use it drag Buzzard.”
“Why mine?”
“You caused this mess. You’ll be the one giving up your plaid.”
He unbuckled the belt holding the kilt together and let the fabric fall away. Layla almost laughed. It seemed when he covered his skin with the magic gold, he paid particular attention to certain parts. She shook her head. “Wow. I wish I could unsee that.”
Meaban smiled. “The lasses like it.”
Layla pointed to Buzzard. “Spread the plaid out next to him. You can log roll him onto it.”
Meaban barely got Buzzard on the fabric by himself. When the big man was finally laid out on the cloth, Meaban grabbed one corner of the plaid. Ian took the other corner with his free hand. Together they dragged Buzzard across the sand toward the hill.
Halfway up the hill, Ian turned to Layla, “Are you sure you can’t use your magic to float him or something?”
“He sequestered it. Remember?” Layla tried to shoot a spell at Buzzard but only fizzles dripped from her fingers. “I’ll keep trying until it’s released.”
Progress was slow as they pulled Buzzard up to the top of the hill and through the forest. It was a rough ride, too. Dragging his body over the rocks and roots was unavoidable, and Layla was sure he was going to be sore and bruised when he awoke.
The barely visible trail wound through the trees as if a snake had designed it. And the farther they moved away from the beach, the more Layla worried about the unconscious and completely helpless men left there. With no magic, she couldn’t even cover them with a glamour.
She wondered if Meaban knew where he was going and worried that they were foolish to trust him. But then he stopped next to a flat-top juniper stump. “We’re here.”
Meaban dropped his corner of the plaid and bent over as if to catch his breath. But in the next second, he head-butted Ian in the gut and wrenched his sword from Ian’s hand.
Ian quickly regained his balance. But Meaban was already a few meters from him, holding the sword ready to strike.
Layla unsheathed Tormed and held it ready. “There’s no way you’re going to beat us. He’s a dragon.”
Meaban shrieked a warrior’s cry and charged Ian.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ian dodged the attack. “Careful, Meaban, or you’ll get more dragon than you bargained for.”
Layla swung Tormed hard, connecting with Meaban’s blade.
The elf deflected the blow and issued a hard knock of his own. Sparks flew as blade connected with blade.
Meaban was stronger than Layla, but she was faster, and from what Ian could tell, more skilled.
She spun and avoided a hit from the elf. “There is no way you’re going to kill Ian.”
“I have to get the heart. It’s in the song.”
“What song?” Ian shouted.
Ian’s shout distracted the elf, and Layla was able to knock his sword from his hand.
Ian picked the sword up and pointed it at the elf. “I’ll just take care of your wee sword, and you sing us the song.”
Meaban pulled a paper from his shirt, unfolded it, and read:
From the mouth of the whale,
Watch the ocean swells,
But it’s the back of the beast,
Pointing east,
That will guide you to the spot,
You must drop,
To rule the dragon race.
Take heart in hand and step the pace,
Sixteen times three.
Find the stump of an old juniper tree.
Atop is the spot,
You must drop,
To rule the dragon race.
Squeeze the dragon’s heart.
Blood drips with the slayer’s and over the bark.
Atop is the spot,
You must drop,
To rule the dragon race.
The power of the slayer,
will open the lair.
Two crowns lie within.
Take care which you choose.
For if you lose, the dragons will rule again.
He finished and looked up at Layla. “We need a dragon heart.”
“No. I think we just need fresh dragon blood,” Ian said. “My blood is mixed with human, but it’s worth a try.”
Layla shifted her gaze to Buzzard. “It has to mix with the blood of the dragon slayer and drip through his fingers.”
Ian rubbed his chin with his knuckles. “We’ll have to maneuver his hand so that my blood spills through his fingers.” To Meaban, he said, “Sit him up.”
Meaban squatted behind Buzzard and heaved him upright.
Ian propped Buzzard’s arm on top of the stump with his palm facing up. He held his hand above Buzzard’s splayed fingers. “Layla, if you could just nick our hands, hopefully, we’ll be in business.”
Layla tipped Tormed’s point to the center of the men’s palms. Ian dripped blood over Buzzard’s and between his fingers. He held his breath as the blood soaked into the bark of the stump. But nothing happened.
“It said to squeeze the heart to drip the blood,” Meaban offered.
Layla glared at the elf. “Well, we’re not going to squeeze a heart, now are we?” She lifted Buzzard’s hand, and to Ian, she said, “Place your hand beneath his.”
Ian slid his bleeding hand beneath Buzzard’s palm. Layla placed her hands on top and forced Buzzard’s fingers around Ian’s hand. “Now we squeeze.”
Ian doubted the artificial action of squeezing would work any better than faking a dragon heart but didn’t argue.
The stump didn’t change.
Meaban eyed the darkening blood on the stump. “It says dragon blood. You need to be a dragon.”
Ian looked at Layla. “What do you think?”
“It bleeds black.”
“It’s worth a try.” Ian pulled his hand from beneath Buzzard’s and stepped away to shift.
He had to flatten a few trees to get close enough to Buzzard’s hand splayed on the gnarled stump. He held his talon toward Layla, but it wasn’t bleeding. She’d have to cut him again.
This time she pulled the sgian dubh from her boot top and jabbed the soft pad between the claws. Black blood dropped onto Buzzard’s hand and ran between his fingers.
The stump sizzled where the blood touched the wood.
Layla pulled Buzzard’s arm from the stump before he was burned.
Ian shifted to his human form and waited for the contents of the chamber to be revealed.
He shoul
d have expected a grandiose gesture as the thing opened. After all, it had been sealed by magic, a song had been written about it, and it required the wand to get to.
But when lightning cracked across the sky, it caused all of them to jump.
The hair on Ian’s body stood on end with the gathering clouds. “I don’t like the looks of that. We need to move Buzzard now.”
Meaban stared at the sky while Ian and Layla grabbed the corners of the plaid and tugged. They hadn’t moved him a step when lightning shot from the clouds to the center of the stump, shattering it. Splinters spit from the center like shrapnel from a dirty bomb.
A high pitch sound deafened Ian to all other noises, and his left arm burned from the assault of the wood.
He looked around for Layla. She had fairy-sized and fluttered a few meters from him. She yelled something and gave him a thumbs up sign.
He dropped to his knees next to Buzzard and panic raced through his body. Blood peppered the man’s face, and beneath that blood, his skin was purple.
Desperately, Ian felt for a pulse but couldn’t find one. He placed his hands in the center of the big man’s chest and counted as he pressed his crossed hands into Buzzard’s sternum. “One. Two. Three. Four.”
Blue sparks flashed in his peripheral vision. Layla’s magic had come back at last.
“Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.”
Dirt and leaves, blue streaks, and broken bits of wood clouded the air. Layla was fighting Meaban.
“Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.”
Layla pushed Ian away and shot a spell into Buzzard’s chest.
His body bucked as if he’d been zapped by a defibrillator.
Ian pressed two fingers over Buzzard’s carotid and felt one bump then two then ten. His pulse was coming back.
His chest began to rise and fall on its own. He was breathing.
Ian sat back on his heels and felt a trickle down his neck. He touched his right ear. When he pulled his hand away, it was covered with blood. The lightning strike had done a number on him. But the ringing had stopped.
Buzzard opened his eyes and raised his hand.
Ian leaned close to Buzzard.
The big man whispered, “Have I ever told you how much I hate magic?”
Ian forced a smile. “Aye. But it’s kept you alive.”