by Ann Gimpel
“From now on,” Rowan said, “No one leaves. We have enough food within. And there’s fresh water flowing down the back wall of the furthermost cavern into a pool.”
“Did you tell the rest of them?” Tansy asked, followed by, “Aw shit. Is everyone all right?”
Rowan still held Mort in her lap. “Yes. We got here in time.”
Tansy got her feet under her and stood. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Rowan replied.
The young witch nodded somberly. “Do what you must. We’ll be all right. I don’t think anyone will be dumb enough to encourage a repeat of today.”
Zelli and Quade trudged across the uneven ground, wings extended for balance. “Ye have one more spot to check,” Zelli reminded us.
Rowan stood. “Thank you for remembering.”
The dragon cocked her head to one side. “’Twasn’t a matter of forgetting. I dinna appreciate the extent of our problems, but I do now.”
“I didn’t, either,” Quade said, followed by, “Hop on. We’ll fly to Inverlochy.”
“Good idea. It will tell us if this”—I spread my arms to encompass the destruction—“is widespread.” I was relieved the mini-spat between Ro and Zelli had played itself out. Combat has a way of highlighting what’s important—and what isn’t.
Rowan tried to detach the cat, but Mort mewled as if he’d lost his best friend. “Mind if I bring him?” she asked Zelli.
Laughter burbled from the dragon, along with clouds of steam. “Better to ask him if he minds riding a dragon.”
“So long as he’s with me, he won’t even notice.” Rowan vaulted to Zelli’s back.
I mounted Quade, and we took to the air. The vista beneath his wings was reassuring, but disconcerting too. Clearly, the attack had been focused on the witches’ lair because the surrounding countryside, while barren, lacked the fissures, cracks, and holes that had formed around the base of Ben Nevis.
Whatever was behind the attack probably knew about Rowan and her long tenure living among the witches. “Do you think we should move the Inverlochy bunch back under Ben Nevis?” I asked Quade.
“Let’s wait to see what we find there, shall we?”
The dragon’s words were both wise and troubling. Inverlochy might be shrouded in illusion, but it was far more vulnerable than the spot we’d just left.
Chapter Thirteen, Rowan
Mort clawed his way up my body until he was draped around my neck. Flying didn’t appear to bother him at all. Maybe I’d been right about him not even noticing since the sum total of his kitty-consciousness was fixed on me. Turning Tansy over to Bjorn’s care had been gut-wrenching. Not because I didn’t trust him. I did.
He’s a far better healer than me, but that statement could be said about almost anyone. Even the witch healers are better at manipulating that type of energy than I am.
One of the byproducts of working by myself all these years has been it’s spared me from today’s kind of decisions. There’s only one of me. I can only do so much, so I pick the fire that’s burning brightest and go after it. Depending on what happens and if I have any magic left, I’ll tackle the next one.
Nobody was more surprised than me when the touch of my power kindled the spell Bjorn had set in motion over Loren, the first witch we treated. It had looked to me as if the casting was on the verge of igniting, but when I tapped it with my probe, it burst into action. I hadn’t encouraged it. Hadn’t fed any particular power into it at all. Proximity seemed to be sufficient.
Something about the way my ability braided with Bjorn’s was essential for that spell to work. When he told me I had to remain with the dragons to heal the eight witches spread in a circle like spokes in a fragile wheel, I understood.
I didn’t like it, but if I’d stuck with Tansy, the other witches wouldn’t have pulled through. Working with the dragons was different from marrying my power to Bjorn’s, but they were efficient and thorough. They did their part, set up the enchantment and stood aside, making space for me to kick their spell into action.
Because we did everyone together, it required a whole lot more magic to pull things off. Mostly, it affected me. The dragons could have done this all day, but I needed a break so my magic could recover.
Or I thought I did.
Maybe what I needed was an attitude adjustment. Half my blood was their blood. Had I babied myself unnecessarily all these years? With a dragon father and Ceridwen riding shotgun on the other side, I should be plenty strong to power through almost anything.
Mort purred louder and licked my neck with his rough tongue. I tightened my grip on the side of his body. He might be comfy a hundred meters in the air, but I worried he’d try to climb down or do something else ill-advised. I could catch him with magic, but he hated when I used my power on him.
It would be full dark soon. I could still see well enough to ascertain the destruction around the caves only extended half a kilometer or so. I wasn’t keen on what that meant. The witches were in danger. Because of me. And in a much more direct way than I’d assumed when I’d kicked Inverlochy Castle open for them to borrow.
Then the worst threat was a Celt with a stick up his ass. I hadn’t questioned any of the witches in various stages of recovery back at the caves. Probably should have. While the bat-like things had been the most serious adversary, I’d seen body parts suggesting at least a few dwarves and sprites had shown up. And there’d been one impressive snake carved into pieces.
Pride for my witch family ran deep. They’d been cornered, and they’d fought hard to save their home and themselves. Had any of the enemy pierced the caves? I didn’t think so. Tansy would have told me. She’d said they’d dealt with rockfall within, but that Loren had gone outside to investigate. If dwarves or sprites or the snake had entered the caves, the witches would have remained within fighting them.
Something about the ancient Celtic stronghold still repelled evil.
Zelli had been quiet. I owed her an apology. “Sorry about earlier,” I said. “I’m bad about jumping to conclusions. And down people’s throats.”
“Och, my throat is long enough to absorb most anything.”
I patted her scaled neck. “Thank you for making light of it. I was pretty awful.”
“Doona wallow in guilt. Larger issues are looming. Quade and I discussed a few things earlier. He had thought it prudent to select an off-world location for Bjorn to develop more familiarity with his magic.”
“Sounds as if you’ve changed your minds,” I said.
“Aye. Trouble is close. So near, we canna afford to be gone for as much as a fortnight.”
I didn’t realize how worried I’d been about being gone until she said we didn’t have to leave. I had so much to do, I felt as if I were drowning. I’d barely made a dent in the lore books about being a Dragon Heir. Bjorn had those damned blades on a back burner. I’d walked out on Odin—and the Celts. There’d be a price for my arrogance, but I had no idea how or when the hammer would crash down on my head.
Bjorn had left too, but Odin and Nidhogg would like as not offer him more latitude, being closely related to them and all.
There was the Breaking spot to keep an eye on. And the place the bats had been. And the witches. And the growing crops. Just because treachery was staring us in the face was no reason to jettison the work we’d done on the garden so far. Another month, and we should be able to harvest the quicker-growing items. Like spinach and lettuce and kale.
“All those reasons,” Zelli went on, proving she lived in my mind when she wanted. “And others as well. Nidhogg has summoned every dragon to a meeting in Fire Mountain. Odin will be gathering his forces as well. Yggdrasil must sign on for this effort. It willna be simple to get the One Tree’s attention. Its consciousness is…”
“Elusive?” I supplied. Not that I knew from personal experience, but I gathered as much from Bjorn’s accounts of his run-ins with the mighty ash tree.
“Aye, the tree is anci
ent and canny. It has its own priorities, and they rarely mesh with anyone else’s. Another problem will be convincing those who live on the eight other worlds that they must help.”
“Beyond the witches, I have no idea if anyone on Earth will lift a finger,” I told her. “Mortals have gone into hiding since the Breaking. Where before they didn’t believe in magic, now they’re scared out of their wits by it. They don’t trust anyone or anything with power, and they have less than zero interest in changing their outlook or listening to reason.” I stopped to take a breath before adding, “Rather like throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”
Zelli snorted laughter. “Interesting choice of words. Baby dragons do not take baths. Not until after their first molt.”
The river Lochy flowed below us. I peered downward, doing my damnedest to split the illusion that hid the castle from view. I couldn’t see a thing. “When are you and Quade going to this all-dragon meeting in Fire Mountain?” I asked.
Zelli circled to land. I cast magic in a wide net but didn’t sense anything bigger than a rat beneath us. “What makes ye think ye’re not coming along?” she asked in as neutral a tone as I’d ever heard from any dragon.
Air caught in my throat; I choked on saliva that headed down my windpipe. “Why would we?” I blurted. “We’re not dragons. Not like you, anyway.”
“The other Dragon Heirs will be there.”
“Didn’t you say they live in Fire Mountain? Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”
The dragon thumped onto the ground amid a cloud of dust. I waited for it to clear before I jumped down with Mort still wound around my neck. My conversation with Zelli would have to wait. I skipped the crypt entrance and teleported into the castle. My Celtic blood allowed me entry, whereas the witches had to sneak in through an underground tunnel system.
My first stop was the courtyards. The seedlings were doing well. They’d grown a lot since I’d last seen them and had leafed out. I sent seeking magic arcing outward about the same time Bjorn materialized. He sent a questioning look zipping my way.
“They’re one floor up,” I said. “It’s suppertime.”
“All present and accounted for?”
“Yeah. Also, the land around the illusion hasn’t been disturbed.”
He nodded. “I noticed the same thing. Made me hopeful all was well here.”
I closed my teeth over my lower lip. “Well” was a relative term. Just because this group of witches had escaped today didn’t mean someone wasn’t watching them closely. Waiting for an opportunity to strike.
I hustled up the stairs with Bjorn next to me. The witches had sensed our approach because Patrick met us in the corridor, a broad smile on his careworn face. “What a lovely surprise,” he said. “Please. Have a bite to eat with us.”
“If you’re sure you have enough,” Bjorn said.
“We do. Remember, we found all those bins of food here.”
It felt like a small piece of the world came back into focus as we sat and shared the witches’ evening meal. Conversation flowed freely, and I skirted as close as I have lately to believing Earth wouldn’t really implode.
Once we’d eaten, Hilda looked from Bjorn to me. “Tell us why you’re really here, and congratulations.”
“I was wondering about that, but I didn’t want to come out and ask. In case I was wrong.” Patrick jumped up and offered a hand first to me and then to Bjorn.
“Och, sure and ye’re mated,” Leif said, his dark eyes shining with happiness for us.
For the next few minutes, the witches toasted us and made plans for a formal handfasting once everyone was back in the caves. Surely by then, the last bit of my resistance not so much to Bjorn, but to tethering myself to anyone for eternity, would have faded. Or at least, I would have made peace with it.
I hoped.
The mention of the caves for a handfasting ceremony was as good a lead-in as I was likely to get. “About the caves,” I began, “everyone is fine, but they had a rough go.”
Smiles faded, and everyone focused on Bjorn and me as we relayed what had happened.
“Thank Danu you two were there.” Hilda lowered the hand she’d placed over her heart.
“Why in the bloody fucking hell was Loren stupid enough to go outside?” Patrick snarled.
“They were lured out,” I said pointblank. “But they won’t fall for that trick again. Not after today.”
“I hope not,” Patrick’s tone had softened. “Those caves provide innate protection from evil. Earlier today proved that. The witches who remained within were unharmed.”
“Maybe unharmed physically,” Bjorn said, “but if I know aught of your kind they’re eaten up with guilt because they didn’t offer their assistance.”
“We must go to them. Reassure them—” Leif began.
“Nay. Our task is finishing what we’ve begun,” Patrick cut in. “The seedlings require our presence. We’ve employed sufficient magic to urge them to grow a wee bit faster, but not so much as to harm their nutrients.”
“Do you believe splitting our forces will be our undoing?” Hilda asked me. It wasn’t the first time the question had come up.
“Not if I can help it.” I slapped my hands on the table in front of me. “Me being available was the only favor you asked when you were deciding to send witches here. I haven’t been nearly as present as I’d have liked.”
“We will do better,” Bjorn said. “Between Rowan and me, we’ll not let more than a day elapse without checking on you.”
I turned to him. “Did Quade tell you about some dragon gathering in Fire Mountain?”
Bjorn furled his brows my way. “What gathering?”
“Mmph. So the answer is no. There’s some kind of all-dragon mandatory meeting in Fire Mountain sometime soon. When I told Zelli I didn’t see why I had to attend, she sidestepped me, and then we arrived here. I was in a rush to get inside the castle, and I figured we’d talk more about it later.”
“I understand why they’d want you,” Patrick said, “but why Bjorn? Is it on account of him being your mate?” Color splotched his weathered cheeks. “No offense meant,” he added hastily.
“There have been a few new developments,” Bjorn said and sketched out the revelations from Odin’s halls.
“So that’s why you look different,” Hilda murmured.
“Aye,” Leif said. “Here I thought perhaps ’twas a trick of the light within this castle. It’s a magical place even more so than the caves are. I run up against its enchantment at every turn.”
“If we’re backed into a corner and have to attend this dragon summit, I don’t plan to remain long,” Bjorn said. “I’ve been to Fire Mountain, and it’s deucedly unpleasant.”
“Hush! Don’t let the dragons hear you,” I cautioned him. “They see it as a sacred place.”
“Because they were forged in fire,” Bjorn said. “We weren’t.”
“Meanwhile,” I addressed my next words to the witches, “do you have a pressing need for anything in particular? I believe you’re safe so long as you remain within Inverlochy’s illusion. But you can’t leave. No trips into what’s left of Fort William for supplies.”
“We have what we need. After I ran into trouble with my last jaunt into town, we’ve grown cautious,” Hilda said.
“Soul sickness is nothing to fool around with,” Bjorn told her. He was sensitive enough not to remind her she’d nearly died from it.
Mort meowed and jumped down, making his way around the table and licking up bits of food remaining on the plates.
“Time for us to get going.” I pushed back from the table and stood. Mort sent a startled look winging my way and leapt across the table and into my arms.
“We need to take him back to the caves,” Bjorn reminded me.
“I’ll do that right now. So long as I’m about it, I’ll take a couple more bins of the food stocks from here. Tell the dragons I’ll meet all of you outside in a few minutes.”
Hil
da ran to me and hugged me with the cat squished between us. Patrick shook Bjorn’s hand, and then he hugged me too. “Bye,” I told them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Leif handed me two containers. “Lentils and cornmeal,” he said, identifying their contents.
A bevy of farewells followed us as we trooped down the stairs. Once we reached the courtyard, I summoned a teleport spell. Mort yowled. He’s never cared for magic touching his body, but I held on firmly, balancing him and the food bins. He’d like teleporting even less. No help for it.
“I’m going to find out what I can about this all-dragon gathering,” Bjorn said.
“Good idea. Back in a flash.”
The garden shimmered to nothingness, replaced by the entry cavern to Ben Nevis’s cave system. I’d tried for a specific destination, and this time, I’d hit it spot on. I wasn’t certain if anything else evil was lurking without, and I didn’t want to have to fight my way out of something.
Mort was frantic to escape my grasp by the time my travel spell spit us out. After blasting me with a bevy of outraged yowls, he took off like a shot down the long corridor that ran the length of the caverns.
Cat delivered. Check. So far, so good. I headed for the common room to see what I could find out before I rejoined Bjorn and the dragons. As I’d expected, everyone was scattered through the generous room sipping what smelled like mint and anise tea. I set the containers on the first table I came to.
Cheers rang out when I scooted into the room. I raised my hands in front of me and shook my head. “No time, but I have a couple of questions.”
“Anything,” rose from multiple throats.
Tansy hustled toward me and pressed a steaming mug into my hands. I drank deep, grateful for the fragrant brew. “First, did anything bad get inside the caves.”
“No,” Loren told me. His black hair had been brushed back from his high forehead. Tall. Rangy. Thin. He’d changed into a clean pair of patched pants and a stretchy black top.