by Ann Gimpel
“We were just talking,” another witch said. “Those of us who were slow to react, we were trapped inside. We tried to go out and help, but the cave entrance wouldn’t budge.”
I narrowed my eyes. An interesting bit of information, indeed. “Next question. What did you fight besides bats?”
“Not much,” Tansy replied. “I saw a couple of dwarves and a sprite. A snake tried to get through, but we chopped it in enough pieces it barely got out of the ground.”
“Do you have any idea what clopped you in the back of the head?” I asked her. Dwarves were small. Too short to reach that high.
She shook her head. “I wondered the same. I felt something bearing down on me. It made me nauseous and lightheaded. But when I tried to turn around to see what it was, I couldn’t. I started to run, but then I knew I’d been hit. Pain took over and I blacked out.”
“Did any of the rest of you see anything that hasn’t been mentioned?” I glanced from one witch to the next. Everyone was shaking their heads.
“Why couldn’t we get out of the cave?” someone asked.
I considered the question. “My best guess is this cave has always held strong magic. It’s why the Celts picked it for a stronghold long ago. Between their magic, and the power already here, the cave was sentient enough to seal itself off from the threat that stood at its gates.”
“So we truly are safe here?” Tansy asked.
I drained the rest of my tea. “I believe so.”
“How are Hilda and the others?” Loren asked.
“They’re fine. Nothing has bothered them.”
“Thank the goddess for that,” Tansy murmured. “Does Inverlochy offer the same protections as here?”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea. My first presumption would be no, but my kin are a crafty lot. They knew enough to disguise Inverlochy. Perhaps that shield extends to magical beings too. You couldn’t sense the castle until I touched it and made it visible.”
Mort scuttled to me and wove around my legs. Apparently, he’d forgiven me. I bent to scratch his ears. “I have to leave again,” I told him. “I’m sorry. I wish it were different.”
Cats are wise. I knew not to make promises I couldn’t keep. Like one where I told him I’d soon be back in the caves and we’d return to our old lives. Those days were gone. And I had no idea what the replacement would look like.
I straightened. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll return as soon as I can.” I pointed at the containers. “I brought more food from Inverlochy. Meanwhile—”
“Don’t worry,” Loren cut in. “None of us are leaving here. No matter what we hear outside.”
“Aye,” someone called from the back of the room. “Those kinds of shenanigans only work once.”
My throat thickened. “I love you guys.”
Before they could shower me with affection that would surely bring me to tears, I hustled out of the room. I called a travel spell and engaged it. I wanted to spend time in my cozy chamber, but it was an indulgence.
Celtic energy dragged at me, herded me. I’d have ignored it, but it was sabotaging my efforts to leave. Rather than fighting it, I followed a path shot with silvery light right to the shaft where I’d tossed my amulet, ring, and golden circlet. Clearly, they were sick of being buried and useless.
When I let my hand hover over the fissure, the wooden box rose until I could curve my fingers around it. Power pulsed warmly, but it no longer felt like Mother. Was it because she’d been banished and was no longer part of the Nine Worlds?
I opened the box and slipped the onyx amulet around my neck, the ring on my finger, and the delicate gold circle around my brow. They were different. Rather than draping me in Ceridwen’s magic, they wove with my own. I looked at the box. It had done its job. No longer magical, it was still lovely, and I laid it on the packed earthen floor. Someone would find it and make good use of it.
This time when I launched a teleport spell, I shot from the cave as if someone had lit a cannon under me. The deserted lands around Inverlochy formed immediately, and I tumbled to a stop next to Bjorn and the dragons.
He draped an arm around my shoulders and snugged me against him. “I was just getting ready to leave and look for you.”
Zelli puffed steam; Quade blanketed us too. In a backhanded way, I felt like I’d found a new home.
“We were preparing to fly to Ben Nevis,” Quade corrected Bjorn.
“Well now you don’t have to,” I said. “Apologies, but I stopped long enough to talk with the witches. Catch me up on what I missed.”
“Appears ye’re reclaiming more than your dragon blood,” Quade observed.
I touched the onyx amulet. “Once it was a gift from Mother, but now the necklace, ring, and circlet are mine.”
“Aye, and a perfect match for your energy. Ye’ll have to tell us what the witches had to say,” Zelli spoke up, “but later. We should be leaving.”
“Aye, we doona want to be late,” Quade agreed.
I battled a sinking feeling. “Leaving for?”
“Fire Mountain. Where else?” Zelli sounded delighted. “Ye’ll love it there. All dragons do. ’Tis our home.”
Bjorn kissed me once, quick and hard, before letting go. We’d talk later, assuming we ever had time to ourselves again. “I’ll need teleport coordinates,” I began.
“Hop on,” Zelli invited. “Dragons have our own ways of traveling. Fire Mountain is barred to all but us.”
“Explains why I was able to go there,” Bjorn muttered before vaulting onto Quade’s back.
“How’d Mother get in?” I asked. Having her out of the way was such a relief, I almost didn’t care how it had been finessed.
“Och, that’s different. Ysien escorted her and parted the barrier,” Quade replied.
I mounted Zelli. “If it’s not too much trouble,” I said once I was settled, “could you tell me about how Fire Mountain came to be?”
A shrill whistling trumpet told me she’d like nothing better. The baked clay smells of dragon power thickened around us, and Earth dropped away. Rather than the darkness I was used to between worlds, Zelli’s casting had heat and light.
And air.
Blessed air. I relaxed and leaned against her neck, listening to the story of dragons and Fire Mountain.
Chapter Fourteen, Zelli
The legend of the beginning of Fire Mountain has always been one of my favorites. When the Dragon Heir—my Dragon Heir—asked to hear the tale, I was pleased to oblige. ’Tisn’t lengthy as legends go. I shall finish it afore we reach Fire Mountain.
“Long, long ago, there were no worlds at all,” I began. “Everything was blackness. A void. The gods were naught but spirit, and they existed as energy without physical form.
“No one knows why, but a sphere shaped itself from nothingness and rioted through the void. Every place it bounced off of marked it, added to its power. Eventually, it caught fire and began to spin. It spun and burned. Mountains formed.
“The mountains became volcanoes that erupted, adding more heat and light to the spinning ball. Finally, it came to a stop. ’Twas still the only world in an endless void, but it was finding its way. The mountains formed a ring, still spewing magma. Caves hollowed out beneath the mountains. Water flowed from deep reserves within the newly quiescent sphere and molded pools within the caves. Fish swam in the pools.
“’Twas never a place for trees or bushes. Too hot and too dry. But the gods heard about the first world to have solid ground to walk upon. They visited and liked it enough to begin building other worlds. The Nine Worlds had their beginning on the flanks of Fire Mountain when ’twas verra young, but that is a different tale.”
I blew out a fire-tinged breath. So far, Rowan had listened intently with her head leaned against my neck. “Go on,” she urged.
“The gods’ forms altered from spirit to bodies once they had a world to walk upon. Stories differ on this next part, but one day the god who ruled the winds found an egg d
eep beneath the ground. He was hunting for a spring because he was thirsty, and when he came out, he cradled the egg between his hands.
“He sensed life within the shell and took it upon himself to nurture the egg, keeping it at a stable temperature until it began to rock. Cracks ran through the shell, and the first dragon was born.”
“Was it Nidhogg?” Rowan asked.
Her question made me smile. Why do people always assume men came first? Reminded me of the bogus Adam and Eve story. “Nay,” I replied. “’Twas Dewi. She flourished on Fire Mountain. It provided exactly what she needed. Heat. Light. Fish and small creatures to eat.”
“How’d they get there?” Rowan spoke up.
“’Tis a magical world, and it has been sentient from its earliest days. Food sufficient to sustain dragons showed up in much the same way as dragon eggs did. Who knows? The world must have welcomed and accepted its destiny as a home for dragons because it created a place perfectly suited to our needs. Eventually, herds of wildebeests took up residence, but not for many hundreds of years.
“More eggs showed up in roughly the same place,” I went on, “but ’twas Dewi who ensured they survived through to hatching.
“More worlds, lots of them, followed on the heels of Fire Mountain. Fully corporeal, the gods had other places to roam. Hundreds of dragons had hatched by then, enough the ones who were grown decided we didn’t require more. Not when we live forever.
“We sealed our world off from everyone but dragons after the doomsday prophecy predicting chaos if a dragon took a Celt to bed. Some of us disagreed with such an isolationist approach, but they were overruled. Meanwhile, dragons had sallied forth millennia earlier. Many remained in the Nine Worlds. Some took up residence on distant borderworlds. All of us return to Fire Mountain from time to time. It nurtures us, heals us, makes us whole.”
I fell silent. I’d reached the end of the most important parts.
“Thank you,” Rowan murmured.
“’Twas my pleasure. ’Tis I who am indebted because ye asked to hear of Fire Mountain’s beginnings.”
“Why do you suppose Nidhogg summoned everyone?” Rowan asked.
“I have no idea. ’Tisn’t something he has done often. And not in a verra long time. We shall discover his intent soon, though. We are nearly home.”
Chapter Fifteen, Bjorn
Quade and I didn’t talk much on the journey to Fire Mountain. I’d expected something like when I teleported to borderworlds. In other words, an airless abyss to suffer through. But whatever channels Quade tapped into had warmth and light and air. It loosely reminded me of the airliners mortals used to ride before the world broke. I was moving through space, not burning my own magic, and not struggling to breathe.
Several plusses.
I was glad Quade wasn’t in a chatty mood. My last jaunt to the dragon’s world wasn’t one of my better memories. Someone—anyone—could have ripped the lid off the secrets of my birth. Nidhogg had claimed no one knew, but I’m not so sure about that. They all knew about Rowan, so it stood to reason they also harbored solid suspicions about me.
No one had said a word.
Instead, they’d let me stand in full sunlight, with both suns beating down on my head as sweat poured off me. It had been so long ago, I didn’t remember exactly what I’d been doing there. Odin had sent me. For something that hadn’t worked out very well.
The dragons hadn’t given me whatever it was I’d requested. When I returned to Valhalla emptyhanded, Odin had berated me. I swear, that man has the worst temper. Time hasn’t improved it. After Ro and I walked out on him, I kept expecting one of his minions to show up, bind us with magic, and drag us back.
Not that it would have worked very well. I couldn’t think of anyone in Odin’s employ strong enough to hang onto Rowan and me if we didn’t want to accompany them. Even Thor would have had a rough go of it. He’s all bluster and brawn, but he doesn’t have a tenth of Odin’s power.
Loki is another story. He has a mean streak a mile wide. And a memory like a steel trap. You might win today’s battle, but he’ll never forget and, eventually, you’ll pay for crossing him. In ways that make you wish you’d never been stupid enough to tangle with him in the first place.
“We’ll be there soon.” Quade broke his silence.
“What happens then?” I asked.
“We shall enter the caves in a particular spot, walk past the most sacred of the pools, and thence into the council chamber.”
Excellent. I wouldn’t have to stand outside under the relentless suns.
“Do you have any idea what Nidhogg has in mind?”
“I do,” Quade said, “but such is not mine to reveal.”
My cheerful thoughts about not baking beneath the blistering skies of Fire Mountain evaporated. “Why am I suddenly starting to feel like a lamb being led to the chopping block?”
“I have no idea.” Quade’s reply was bland. Impossible to read anything beneath it. When I probed the dragon’s mind, it was closed to me.
We bounced through a few air pockets and blitzed from the subtle glow of where we’d been into the glare of klieg lights bombarding us with heat and light. Except they weren’t lights at all but the twin suns belonging to Fire Mountain. The air smelled hot and dry and burned. The ring of volcanoes still spewed smoke and fire. I’d always assumed the largest of them was Fire Mountain, namesake for this world.
The heat hit me like a wall, but it didn’t seem quite as horrible as I remembered. Quade settled heavily on cracked red dirt with rocks scattered about as if the place had been a giant’s bowling alley. I jumped down and asked, “Which way?”
“Dead ahead, but let’s wait for Zelli and Rowan. That way we can enter together.”
I tilted my head and looked up at Quade. “I’m guessing Ro and I will be the only non-dragons there.”
‘Ye’re not exactly non-dragons.” Scales clattered as he shrugged. “Odin may show up, given your relationship to Hel.”
“Oh? And are we inviting Ceridwen as well? Did she receive a ‘get out of jail free card’ just for today?”
“I doona think so.” Quade’s eyes spun faster.
I felt like a jerk. “Sorry. This isn’t a comfortable place for me.”
“Why not?”
It was a fair question. I took stock. Fire Mountain hadn’t changed. The twin suns were still up there. Parched dirt spread in every direction. Where before it had struck me as trashed, barren, my perspective had shifted. The clean, spare lines of the land held a macabre beauty all their own.
In the spirit of honesty, I met Quade’s gaze. “It’s not as bad as I remembered.”
He nodded wisely. “Ye’ve changed. Hel’s glamour kept many things from you.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, but I wasn’t eager to stuff foot number two into my mouth, either. Zelli’s copper scales caught the suns’ reflection as she winged toward us.
Even before the dragon landed, Rowan somersaulted off her back and floated down next to me. “Zelli told me the story of Fire Mountain. It was fascinating.”
“It is,” I agreed. “Dragons were the first creatures in all the universes.”
“So you know the legend?” She raised a brow.
“I do, indeed.”
Rowan narrowed her eyes. “Mother’s in my head. She must have sensed me as soon as we crossed from the travel space into Fire Mountain.”
I didn’t care for the sound of that. “What’s she saying?”
“Gawk. What isn’t she saying? She’s weeping and carrying on as if they’re murdering her and laying her out for crows to pluck at her liver.”
“We shall put an end to that,” Zelli said. “Follow us within.”
I’d been about to join with Ro and help erect shielding around her mind, but if the dragons had a fix, it was probably better. More permanent. We crossed about fifty meters of dirt to a gash in nearby cliffs. It was deceptive from a distance. Once we were close, I saw that it was easi
ly big enough for a dragon to enter. The temperature dropped a good ten degrees as soon as we stepped within, and the air held moisture.
Both dragons took on a glowing aspect that lit our surroundings. We stood in a rounded cavern that might have been twenty meters across. Its ceiling extended far above us, and the circular chamber was lined with thousands of crystals that reflected the dragons’ illumination.
Rowan tugged on my arm and jerked her chin at the dragons’ retreating forms. Even though they’d moved through an archway at the far side of the cavern, the crystals still glowed warmly. They must have a way to concentrate and hold onto magic.
We hurried after Zelli and Quade down a gradually sloping corridor. I called a mage light because the lighting system in the entry cave didn’t extend beyond it. The dragons were still glowing, but they’d pulled quite a way ahead.
“Leave me alone,” Rowan muttered.
I wrapped a hand around her forearm. “Ceridwen?”
“Who else. Damn that woman. I liked her better when she was swimming in pride and paying me the slightest bit of attention annoyed the fuck out of her.”
The tunnel zigged first right and then left. The dragons had stopped in a generous side cave. I assumed we were supposed to stop too since I had no idea where we were going. The underground warren of paths was starting to feel like a labyrinth.
“Oooh,” Rowan sighed. “That’s so pretty.”
After scooting around Quade’s bulk, I saw a turquoise pool. Fed by a waterfall and lined with shimmering white stones, it shone invitingly. Fish of all sizes flitted about in its waters. About the size of a small loch in the Highlands, it extended perhaps forty meters on a side.
“This is the first pool discovered on Fire Mountain,” Zelli said. “As such, we pay it homage. Without water, dragons would not have flourished here.”
“Was this near where the god of the winds found Dewi’s egg?” Ro asked.
“’Twas.” Zelli sounded pleased. “The egg was balanced on that rock outcropping.” She pointed with an extended talon.