Dragon’s Blood: A Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  It was probably rude of me since Zelli had said she’d take care of Ceridwen, but I asked anyway. “How long before Ceridwen leaves off her incessant nattering?”

  “Och. Can ye hear her too?” Zelli blew a plume of smoke upward.

  “No. Thank all the gods, but—”

  “Hey! She’s gone,” Rowan said. “Whatever you did. Thank you.”

  “I alerted Dewi. She addressed her kinswoman. It willna be permanent,” Quade cautioned. “Perhaps placing her with the Morrigan was a mistake. Both of them hold vast power.”

  “Enough to escape?” I asked pointblank.

  “Probably not,” Zelli said.

  I stumbled over the probably. I’d wanted her to reassure Ro and me that the two exiled Celts hadn’t a prayer of subverting whatever magic bound them.

  “We need to hurry.” Quade hustled back into the main corridor. We followed him with Zelli behind us. Our configuration had changed. Was it accidental, or were the dragons concerned we’d double back? Make a run for it?

  My lack of trust hit me between the eyes. Had I always been so wary? Or was it a recent development? One that had shown up after Nidhogg forced the spying dragonstone upon me?

  I still couldn’t bring myself to call him Father. Or anything remotely associated with such an intimate connection. I’d had an amazing father. He was dead, and I wasn’t interested in finding a replacement.

  We continued for perhaps another kilometer, past myriad branching side pathways. The occasional hub was lined with the same glowing chips that had been in the entry hall. This cave system was enormous. Did dragons live down here? It made sense they’d have crafted a retreat from the surface and its heat. If the lore was to be believed, this was but one of many caves.

  For the first time, I wondered how many dragons existed. Since they were immortal, at least in principle every one who’d ever hatched was still somewhere. We picked our way down a steep grade. It flattened abruptly and flared into a huge chamber. Torches were spaced at intervals along the walls, crackling with the scent of dragonfire.

  A raised dais at the front of the room held several dragons. Nidhogg stood in the middle, watching as dragons milled about. On either side of him were two smaller golden dragons with milky eyes. These must be the twin blind seers referred to in legend. Dewi’s red-scaled head was bent as she conversed with one of the seers. Ysien scanned the room. He reminded me of a busybody, always taking notes, casting blame, and looking for problems, but Nidhogg appeared to rely on him.

  The rush torches whooshed brighter and formed a burning circle all around the vast enclosure. It had to be some kind of sign the meeting was about to begin because everyone formed rough rows and quit talking among themselves.

  I didn’t bother counting, but there were a lot of dragons here. In every dragon color. Red, blue, green, copper, gold, black, and a few in-between shadings mostly in the copper-gold spectrum.

  The torches retreated to their original configuration. Nidhogg lumbered a few steps nearer the assemblage. “The reason we are here today is—”

  A blue glare punctuated with lightning bolts burst outward, showering the dais with streamers. Odin stepped from the gateway. “Damn it. Ye’ve already begun.” He snapped his fingers, and the portal swooshed shut behind him.

  I beat back a grin. Leave it to Odin not to apologize for being late. Nidhogg hadn’t exactly thanked the dragons for jumping to his command and showing up, either. Maybe manners were a purely human convention.

  “As I was saying,” Nidhogg continued, “the reason we are here is to discuss the impact of two unprecedented developments.”

  I wondered what they were. Surely, the Breaking. Perhaps the other was Midgard’s failing health.

  “The sooner we rid ourselves of the Celtic sluts, the better,” a black dragon called from near the front of the room.”

  “I dinna give ye leave to speak,” Nidhogg thundered.

  “Apologies, sire.” The dragon bowed his head but not for long.

  Fascinating. The Breaking wasn’t even a blip on the dragons’ radar, but babysitting the Celts loomed large. I didn’t blame them. I’d do everything I could to avoid Ceridwen’s company. From everything I’d heard, the Morrigan was far worse—

  “Bjorn!” Rowan elbowed me.

  “What?” I kept my voice low.

  “Come on. Nidhogg wants us front and center.” She grabbed my arm and began towing me toward the head of the room.

  I shook free and walked by her side. What had I missed? And why had she and I been singled out. Surely we couldn’t be the unprecedented developments. We were supremely unimportant balanced against all the other complications the Nine Worlds faced.

  The chamber was even larger than I thought. It took at least three minutes to cross to where Nidhogg stood. Odin had moved back a pace or two to a spot between the assembled dragons and the dais. I’ve never been able to read his expressions, and today was no exception. He looked like he always did, grumpy and annoyed with the world.

  Dewi intercepted us and puffed steam.

  “None of that,” Nidhogg growled. “Ye’ve apologized for your oversights when the Dragon Heir was young.”

  “Ye doona rule me,” she growled back. “They’re mated. The Dragon Heir and, for want of a better title, the Dragon Mage.”

  “Of course they are,” one of the twin seers piped in a surprisingly high voice for such a large creature. “Such was foretold.”

  The anger I thought I’d moved past developed new life. What a bunch of bastards. They’d known about me, just as I figured. No one had given me leave to speak, but that had never stopped me before. I tried for a deferential tone and said, “I can see where you’d withhold prophecies from non-dragons, but were you ever planning to reveal anything to me?”

  “They couldna see you,” Odin said. “Not whilst Hel’s glamour protected what ye were from prying eyes.”

  “You knew about me.”

  “Aye. As did Nidhogg.” Odin stopped there.

  Words crowded against the back of my throat, wanting out. Of course Nidhogg had known. He’d sired me, albeit unwillingly. Fine. So the Fire Mountain dragons hadn’t known about me. Until right now.

  “All of you”—Rowan spread her arms wide—“knew about me. Except maybe Dewi, the one dragon who might have made a difference.”

  “Why did none of you tell me?” Dewi pushed to her full height. Such things may have mattered to other dragons, but they were all so much taller than me, it didn’t make her any more imposing.

  Nidhogg twisted until his gaze fell on her. “Because I instructed them not to. What would ye have done with the knowledge?”

  “Why, I’d have—” She broke off abruptly.

  “Exactly.” Nidhogg nodded. “Ye’d have banished the father. We already took care of it. Naught ye could have done about Ceridwen. Dragon-linked children are impossible to destroy. Had ye called her on her treachery, ye’d have created a deep divide amongst the Celts. She would have ripped the pantheon apart. At least this way, by the time the truth surfaced, the other Celts were more than ready to divest themselves of Ceridwen—and her cauldron.

  “We assumed she’d gift her spawn with the truth. She never did.” Nidhogg exhaled a fire-laden breath. “Meanwhile, our seers kept coming up with new wrinkles in their future telling.”

  “Start at the beginning,” someone yelled.

  “There are two beginnings,” Nidhogg replied. “Hel tricked me long ago. Using skills from Loki, her da, she stole my seed and created him.” He extended a talon my way.

  “I claim kinship bonds to him,” Odin boomed. “Just so there is no misunderstanding.”

  I’d have growled at him, told him how warm and fuzzy his words made me feel, but I wouldn’t have gotten through. He was convinced he’d done me a great honor, and I was smart enough not to throw it in his face.

  “The second beginning is more complex,” Nidhogg went on. “Ceridwen seduced one of our dragons. She worked long and ha
rd to lull him into believing they could subvert the prohibition against such a pairing. Rowan was the result. I was on the verge of revealing her heritage when Ceridwen cast a spell that had disastrous consequences to Midgard. Hundreds of millions of mortals died, and the energy balance of the Nine Worlds became seriously skewed.

  “A vast understatement,” Odin muttered.

  Nidhogg cast a pointed look his way, but I was certain it wouldn’t deter Odin. If he had something to say, he’d say it no matter what the dragon thought.

  “Once again,” Nidhogg continued, “I cast about for an optimal time to toss the veils about Rowan aside and allow her to claim her rightful title as a Dragon Heir. There has never been a Celtic Dragon Heir afore, so none of us ken the extent of her abilities.”

  “We foresaw the two dragon hybrids mating,” one of the seers interrupted. “It is an important pairing because of how strong their magic is.”

  “Why is that?” I asked. So long as we were here, and the dragons were gawking at us like circus attractions, I may as well get as much information as I could.

  The seer nodded. His milk-white eyes spun slowly. “Between you, ye command the full spectrum of power. All four elements. All four seasons. All the strength of both the Norse and Celtic pantheons. With dragon magic to season the mix.”

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t expected him to answer me, but his reply was enlightening.

  Beside me, Rowan said, “Wow. What a lot to live up to.”

  “Ye’ll have plenty of opportunity—” the seer began, but Nidhogg silenced him with a wave of his foreleg.

  I straightened my shoulders to make myself as impressive as possible, but it was a joke in a room full of dragons. “If there is something specific that pertains to Rowan and me, I want to know what it is.”

  “Ye sat in the Celts’ council chamber and listened to Ceridwen,” Nidhogg reminded me.

  “So I did, but she lies.”

  “And tells the truth too,” Odin said. “In this instance, what she said about most prophecies never seeing the light of day is true. We would do you a disservice were we to lay out all the possible roads spread before you.”

  “What roads?” Rowan’s tone was shriller than usual. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “I gathered the dragons for two reasons,” Nidhogg said. “The first was so they would recognize you and provide any assistance you request of them. Zelli is bonded to you. Quade shall work with Bjorn, but beyond those two, every dragon here will not hesitate to help. Do I make myself clear?”

  Scales clanked as heads nodded.

  I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the second reason, and I girded myself for bad news. For Nidhogg to offer up every dragon meant what he had in store for us was far worse than what I figured was already riding in the wind.

  To my surprise, Nidhogg motioned Odin next to him. “The second reason”—Odin picked up the banner—“is we have partially identified one of the problems keeping Midgard from healing her broken places.”

  I gripped Rowan’s forearm. This related to us. I was certain of it. Judging by the tension in her muscles, she knew it too.

  “What does this have to do with dragonkind?” someone asked.

  “Aye,” another voice cut in. “We doona concern ourselves with other worlds. Other races.”

  “In this instance, we do,” Nidhogg said.

  “Why?” the same voice persisted.

  Both seers lumbered around the dais. I couldn’t tell them apart. The one on the right said, “’Tisn’t the nature of dragons to be apart from our own.”

  The other said, “Rowan’s father has done much damage. He planted the idea for the breaking spell in Ceridwen’s mind.”

  “What?” Rowan shrieked. “They’re still talking to each other. What the fuck?” She clapped a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  “Your first task,” Odin told her—and I guess me, “is to locate the banished dragon. He slipped beyond our scope long ago.”

  “Wouldn’t a dragon be better suited to hunting their own?” I asked.

  “Ye’re both dragons,” Nidhogg replied. “Start acting as befits your blood.”

  I planted myself in front of him and Odin. “Nay. I’m the master sorcerer for the Nine Worlds. If there’s a ‘way to act,’ it’s predicated on my long tenure compounding potions and dispensing magic.”

  “Yes, and I’ve spent years passing as a witch,” Rowan reminded everyone. “Once we find my dastardly father—assuming it’s even possible—what do we do with him?” She licked at dry, chapped lips. “I’m a little slow on the uptake, but you tapped me because he and I share blood, and blood-bound spells are powerful.”

  “Smart wench.” Odin beamed at her. I could have punched him.

  Rowan’s “what do we do once we locate him” question was important. We couldn’t kill him. I waited, assuming someone would answer her.

  “Ye’ll figure it out,” Odin said.

  “Not good enough,” I growled.

  He focused his one eye on me. “Cast a spell. Find something to immobilize him. Ye canna kill him, but—”

  “If you’re not going to be more help than that, be quiet,” Rowan told him.

  Odin whipped a hand back, ready to slap her for impertinence, but I stepped between them. “She is my mate. Mine. You will not touch her.”

  Odin burst out laughing and dropped his hand to his side. “Well, well, Son. Ye’re finally coming into your own.”

  He sounded surprised, and it didn’t endear him to me. If he’d assumed I’d always be a third-rate sorcerer, why encourage Hel to come clean?

  Side conversations had picked up again, and the room hummed with chatter. Rowan and I would be hot topics for many a month, if I knew anything about dragons. Besides, no one had asked them to do anything. Except aid us if we happened to cross their paths and needed them.

  Quade trudged the length of the room with Zelli next to him. Both inclined their heads to Nidhogg. “Our assignment is locating Cadir and defanging him?” Quade raised a scaled brow.

  “Mmph. Seems my absentee father has a name.” Sarcasm blazed a path through Rowan’s words. “What does it mean?”

  “Destroyer of Life,” I told her as a chill marched up my spine.

  “Correct,” Nidhogg replied.

  “I would accompany them as they seek Cadir,” Dewi said.

  Nidhogg looked surprised. “If ye wish it, I canna stop you.”

  Fire flashed from her upturned jaws. “Part of this is my fault. Had Ceridwen not blinded me to truth, I might have been able to intervene afore the widespread destruction that ruined Earth.”

  “We would welcome your presence,” Quade told her.

  “Shall we leave?” Zelli asked. It felt as if she was inquiring if we’d been dismissed, but I wasn’t in a hair-splitting mood.

  “Anytime ye wish,” Nidhogg replied.

  Rowan winced. “Mother is at it again. If you’re not careful, she’ll warn Cad—whatever the rest of his name is, and our job will turn from difficult to impossible.”

  “Strengthen the warding around her,” Nidhogg ordered. “And separate her from the Morrigan.” Several dragons jumped to comply.

  “Get on,” Quade told me.

  Odin held up a hand. “Afore ye leave, know that I will make whatever resources ye require available.”

  It was an incredibly generous offer coming from him, the ruler who squatted like a vengeful crow over spoils from the Wild Hunt. I thanked him before vaulting onto Quade. Rowan was astride Zelli, and magic bubbled around us as the dragons prepared to teleport away from Fire Mountain.

  “Where are we going?” I asked Quade.

  “Where do ye wish to go?”

  “Back to Vanaheim. I have blades to collect, and Rowan will want to look in on the witches before we begin hunting Cadir.” Something about his name left a sour taste on my tongue.

  The walls of the dragons’ hall fell away. We’d talk about Rowan’s dragon fa
ther, but not before we returned home and I could build strong wards around us. I might be wrong, but if the incursion into Midgard was any bellwether, he’d developed a network of spies and allies that spanned the universe.

  Chapter Sixteen, Rowan

  I wanted to talk with Bjorn, but it would have to wait until the dragons’ travel spell spit us out. I didn’t trust employing telepathy where others could listen in. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I could reach him. I’d never traveled through anything like the channels the dragons used to teleport. Was this something special where the destination was always Fire Mountain? Or were all their teleport spells like this?

  The onyx amulet thrummed warmly against my chest. The stone in the ring glowed. I’d been right to claim the jewelry pieces. They concentrated my power.

  I thought about the dragon father I’d never even suspected existed until quite recently. I could easily see him growing embittered by enforced isolation from his kinsmen. And angry at Ceridwen since her life didn’t change at all after she suckered him into her bed.

  If the seer dragons spoke true, and he’d been behind the Breaking, it explained a lot. He couldn’t get to either Ceridwen or me directly, but splitting the world asunder was a great backdoor. It had placed Ceridwen in a compromising position and forced the Celts to move to a borderworld. I’d already taken up with the witches, but the Breaking narrowed our existence to bare necessities.

  Had he known?

  That part didn’t matter. My guess was he’d gone mad. Ceridwen always was attracted to men who lived on the ragged edge. The cavalcade of lovers, human and otherwise, she’d taken into her bed would have shocked me if I’d been old enough to know better. By the time it occurred to me something might be amiss with her choices, I was on my way out of the Celtic stronghold, anyway.

  Even the other Celts looked askance when she took up with a vampire. She told everyone he’d reformed, but it didn’t look like that to me. He always smelled of blood and rot. I didn’t see how she could stand him next to her. He was gorgeous, with long silvery hair and emerald eyes. But he stank, and his eyes had this fey aspect lurking in their depths. I’d caught him looking at me as if I were an appetizer at time or two.