by Ann Gimpel
“And his protests about how subpar his magic was,” I hissed. “Anyone who could break his way past the outer borderworlds is far from weak.”
Dewi puffed a cloud of steam toward Rowan and me. Ro might not be in my arms, but I’d threaded my fingers with hers. The steady beat of her presence was the most important thing in my life. It wasn’t practical, but I vowed we would never be separated again.
“Aye,” Dewi said. “That was my second clue.”
“Would have been nice if someone had clued me in,” Rowan said in a clear, ringing voice.
“How?” Zelli asked. “If we’d told you, even in deeply shielded mind speech, we ran the risk of Cadir picking up on our deception. He’d have snapped you up and been gone. At least the way things happened, ye were in the center of an entity we had control over.”
Something Dewi had said earlier circled to the forefront of my mind. “You knew where Cadir was going, right?” Scales clinked and clanked as she nodded. I went on. “We have to follow him. It’s near enough to the outer borderworlds, I bet he built himself a stronghold there. A place to retreat to and plan his next attack.”
“The same occurred to me,” Dewi said.
Andraste surged to her feet, blonde hair flowing around her. “A battle! We shall all go.”
“Most of us,” Arawn corrected her. “I have repairs to attend to.”
She rounded on him, green eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Why? Everyone who dwelt beyond your Ninth Gate is long gone. Ye’ll just have to round them up. Come play with us first. It will be like the olden times.”
I thought Andraste was laying it on thick, but she swept her hands to the sides. “Celts and dragons used to fight side by side. I miss those days. Och, the blood and the shrieks as our enemies fell by the wayside only to be caught up in dragonfire.”
“We’re still going to cut out his heart, right?” Rowan looked at Dewi. “And feed it to Fire Mountain?”
“Aye, child.” Dewi’s jaws lolled into a grin. “My, ye’ve turned into quite the savage.”
“A Celt to her bones,” Andraste declared, followed by, “Fascinating. I had no idea dragons had a fatal defect.”
“That secret shall remain within these walls,” Dewi boomed.
“Aye. We will honor your confidence.” Gwydion nodded briskly and addressed his next words to Andraste. “Of course, Rowan is a Celt. What else would she be?”
“Not how they felt about me when I was growing up,” Rowan muttered in telepathy that probably everyone could hear.
“Can you still get to Fire Mountain?” I asked the dragons.
“Of course. The destruction to our travel paths was temporary. And localized. I’m certain it’s mostly repaired itself by now,” Quade answered me.
Odin’s head snapped up. Norse magic rose around him, thick with the scents of the sea and wet greenery. “Ye willna have to go far to locate the errant dragon.” He jerked his chin toward a bank of windows. “Cadir stands just outside the illusion.”
“For the love of the gods, why is he here?” Ash streamed from Dewi’s open mouth.
“Because his need for his own kind superseded his need to be a bastard,” Quade rumbled.
“Pah. He’s been alone since we banished him,” Zelli said. “Why should it suddenly bother him now?”
Dewi cocked her head to one side. “Even if ’twas a lie, we offered him Fire Mountain. ’Tis everything a dragon could want. And more.”
“Yeah, but he threw it in our faces and tried to kidnap me,” Rowan said.
“He wasn’t thinking clearly,” Quade said.
“Long association with Loki tends to addle the mind.” Odin looked as if he’d bitten into something rotten.
Distant bugling reached my ears. I have no idea what got into me, but I slipped a broadsword from its sheath and brought it down on the marble floor amid a shower of sparks. “Has blood been spilled in these halls before?”
“Not in my memory,” Rowan said.
“First time for everything.” Adraste sounded positively cheerful. She drew her blade from its sheath riding across her back and gazed at it as if it were a holy relic.
Dewi shot fire skyward. “I will invite him inside.” On the heels of her words, Cadir’s black-scaled form slithered through a portal. The dragon dropped heavily onto the floor at the far end of the large room.
He got his hind legs under him and looked around the chamber. “Excellent, I dinna lose track of you after all.” His spinning eyes settled on Rowan. “Daughter. Come to me.”
“I think not. Last time I did that, you fucked me pretty good. I’m not in the mood for a repeat. Or for losing more hair.” She patted the raw place on her head.
“Watch your language, child.” Cadir raised a foreleg, one talon extended.
I offered him points for sounding genuinely outraged. Somewhere along the line, he must have gone to acting school. Or maybe watching Loki had been enough.
“Watch yours,” Rowan countered. “We may share blood, but I am scarcely your child.”
“How can ye say that?” he went on. “I was bringing you home. A special place I made for Ceridwen and you. She knows about it. Ask her. Why, she…” He scanned the room. “Where is she? Where is my love? She belongs here with the rest of you.”
Before anyone could come up with an answer, Cadir roared, “What have ye done with her?”
Fire shot from Quade, Zelli, and Dewi, blanketing Cadir in smoke and ash. The air in the vast room thickened with burning debris that made me cough.
“Not your affair.” Dewi moved until she stood nose to nose with Cadir. “As First Born of Dragons and part of our council of Elders, I claim the right to accuse you of crimes against dragonkind.”
“I have done nothing wrong.”
“Ye will remain silent, or I shall cut out your tongue.” Dewi leaned closer until Cadir took a step back.
“Ye bedded a Celt, an act that was expressly forbidden. Once your transgression was discovered, ye were banished for your sins. Ye broke free from your bonds and took up with Loki. Regardless of whose idea it was, ye were instrumental in breaking Midgard.”
Dewi hesitated for long moments before she asked, “How do ye plead?”
“There were extenuating circumstances. That Celtic slut pursued me. She wouldna let me alone. Loki too. He—”
“How do ye plead?” Quade thundered.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Andraste circle around behind Cadir, her blade glistening with magic.
“Not guilty.” Cadir tossed his head back. “’Tis my right to be heard and tried by a jury of my peers. In Fire Mountain.”
“We offered you Fire Mountain. Ye threw it in our faces.” Zelli sounded furious. Smoke puffed from her mouth and nostrils.
“So, ye will allow us to shackle you?” Dewi inquired archly. “Haul you to Fire Mountain in chains?”
“Nay. All dragons are innocent until the Elder Council has pronounced judgment.”
“They already did,” Dewi reminded him. “And excommunicated you.”
Something shifted in the craziness spilling from Cadir. I braced myself for what might happen next. The Celts must have felt it too because they surged to their feet and formed a circle around the dragon, blades and magic at the ready.
Rowan yanked her hand from mine and marched until she stood next to Dewi, facing off against her father. “What? You’re not satisfied? I can see wheels turning in that great, thick head of yours. You think perhaps you’ll fight your way out of the heart of a Celtic stronghold with half a dozen Celts, Odin, and three dragons arrayed against you?”
“Ye’ll fight by my side,” he insinuated slyly.
“Like fuck I will. I don’t blame you for bedding Ceridwen, but I do blame you for the Breaking. You left your mark, all right. Hundreds of millions of deaths.”
I guess Odin couldn’t resist joining in because he materialized on Dewi’s other side with his battle axe, Jarnbjorn, drawn. He drew his lips back from his teet
h and gritted out, “Meddling bastard.”
Rowan rolled her shoulders back. “You’ve heard the charges against you and stated you are not guilty. We find that you are lying.”
“Go ahead. Daughter.” He spread his forelegs invitingly, almost as if Rowan was his lover. I wanted to punch his snout until blood ran from beneath the scales.
Rowan made a grab to link with my power. I threw myself wide open and ran lightly to her side. Whatever she had in mind, I was all in. Red bands of power shot from Dewi, but Rowan said, “Hold. He is mine. I claim kinship rights.”
Cadir’s cagey expression shaded to relief. “Ye’ve come to your senses, Daughter. I promise—”
“Shut up,” Rowan screeched. “You deserve worse than what I can dish out, but I don’t have the stomach for torture.”
She gripped her amulet and extended an arm. White light shot from her extended fingers, forming a magical blade. I understood her intent, and it was both bold and brilliant. She was leveraging their shared blood to force his scales to cede to her power. Staring beneath his chin, she sliced neatly through his scales to gut level.
Entrails spilled into a gleaming pile.
Cadir seemed to have moved past shock. Fire shot from his mouth, and he ran it around the room in a broad swath. Damn lucky nothing flammable was in the chamber. Marble doesn’t burn. Neither do crystals or rocks.
“Your turn,” Rowan told Dewi and moved aside.
The First Born Dragon walked through Cadir’s firestorm and cut out his heart. Crimson blood spewed from severed vessels, painting everything in their path a brilliant red. The coppery bite of salt and blood filled my nostrils. In a flurry of heat and magic, Dewi was gone.
If anyone could ferry Cadir’s heart to Fire Mountain, it was her. She was ashamed any dragon could do what Cadir had, and wiping him out had turned into a personal vendetta.
Cadir bellowed outrage, but the blood was slowing. My eyes widened. I’d assumed he could grow another heart, but I’d had no idea it would happen this fast. The gash Rowan had opened down his midline was knitting shut.
“I donna think so,” Odin cried. He cleaved Jarnbjorn along the same path, opening the wound a second time.
Andraste and Gwydion had their own ideas. The goddess of war sliced her blade through whatever was nearest, cleaving off talons, a foreleg, and a wing. Everything Gwydion touched with his magic-imbued staff turned black with rot and sloughed off. Cadir bellowed and writhed. Fire and smoke blasted from his mouth. Crazy with pain, he wasn’t even bothering to aim.
The fountain of blood had stopped. Losing body parts wasn’t much more than an inconvenience for dragons, but if his heart grew back, Dewi’s mission would fail. I didn’t aim to start over. While I wanted Cadir deader than dead, I didn’t relish brutalizing him, either. A clean death wasn’t possible, but anything we could do to hasten his would be a plus. He was plenty strong enough to keep fire flowing. His aim sucked. I wasn’t about to wait for it to improve. The floor was slick with gore and entrails. He’d probably regrown them too, but they weren’t my objective.
I didn’t consider which blade to use. Somehow I just knew and dropped the long blade in favor of one of my knives. With its slender, serrated blade, it was perfect for my requirements. I don’t know when Rowan joined me, but she was by my side, slipping and sliding in her father’s organs.
She repeated her earlier action and sliced through the closing gash over Cadir’s heart. Damn, but that dragon’s regenerative capabilities were far better than I’d expected. I surged forward and carved the new heart from his chest cavity. I had to borrow heavily from magic since he stood so much taller than me.
Gwydion snatched the still beating heart from my hands, tossed it into the slime heap beneath us and brought his staff down dead in the center. Like everything else the staff touched today, Cadir’s heart turned to a shriveled black blob.
Blood shot from the opening in the dragon’s rib cage. I blinked it out of my eyes. Fuck, but I hoped we wouldn’t have to do this too many more times. Rowan dragged me back out of the way of gallons of blood sheeting from the wreck of her father. At least, he’d stopped spewing fire. I picked up my discarded long blade and sheathed it along with my knife.
The other Celts had piled on Cadir, carving away at various parts of his body and shouting encouragement back and forth in Gaelic. Odin excised an eye and ate it. Shades of the Wild Hunt.
“I hope someone cuts off his dick,” Rowan said, but she sounded tired.
The air shimmered across the room. Red wings came into view. “It is done,” Dewi announced and flew close to the dragon who’d turned into a dead man walking.
“Geez, that was fast,” Rowan whispered in my ear.
I thought the same, but Dewi had been motivated. The longer she was gone, the more ways this whole undertaking could have slid off the rails.
“Get off him. All of you,” Dewi shouted. When no one moved, she changed from words to lightning bolts.
“Killjoy,” Andraste yelled back.
Dewi hissed at her.
The goddess of war hissed back.
Cadir was still on his feet, but the light had left his one remaining eye. Dewi began a chant. Zelli and Quade, who hadn’t taken part in the carnage, picked up the refrain.
Flames, hot clean and bright, formed around Cadir, burning with a vengeance. I moved back from the blast furnace that had formed in our midst. Sweat coated my forehead and dripped into my eyes. The fire dissipated as quickly as it had formed, leaving an empty place where Rowan’s father had stood. The blood and organs were gone as well.
Zelli and Quade joined Dewi next to where the flames had ignited, and they completed their incantation. “We sent him to his rest,” Dewi said.
“May he make better choices when he is reborn from the bowels of Fire Mountain,” Quade intoned.
“The fire will purify him, cleanse his mind of madness,” Zelli murmured.
When I looked at Rowan, she was crying. Though her mouth was contorted with grief, she wasn’t making a sound. Tears welled and fell as brilliant gems, reflecting light from the council chamber’s many crystal surfaces.
I put my arms around her. “Where do you want to go?”
“Home,” she snuffled.
“Aye, but which one?”
“Mine.”
The Celts and Odin were glad-handing each other. Bottles of mead appeared from somewhere. Victory toasts rang out. The dragons stood off to one side, heads bowed. I felt certain what they’d done was unprecedented, and they were finding a way through it. The Elder Council would absolve them, but they had to clear a path to forgiving themselves.
They’d raised their talons against one of their own, an act that was forbidden. Whoever had written their laws hadn’t foreseen every eventuality, though. I felt certain that long ago scribe wouldn’t hold today’s events against Dewi, Quade, or Zelli.
No one was paying any attention to us, so I summoned magic and took Rowan and me to her chamber beneath Ben Nevis. Cadir might be dead, but his passing hadn’t nullified the Breaking. The Nine Worlds still teetered on the brink of annihilation.
A deep weariness dug its hooks into me. We’d done what we had to, but I took no joy in it. Maybe my dragon half was mourning the loss of a fellow, no matter how corrupt he’d become.
I hung on until the walls of Rowan’s room formed around us, and then fumbled with the buckles on my various sword belts. They made thumping noises as they hit the floor. Rowan crawled onto her bed, and I curved my body around hers. The last thing I remember before blackness hit me like Thor’s hammer was Mort landing across our bodies and purring like there was no tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty, Rowan
I don’t ever recall being quite this tapped out. Bjorn brought us home, but that’s about all I remember for the next twelve hours or so. When I finally opened my eyes, he lay next to me, an arm curved protectively around my body. He was still asleep. Dark circles etched beneath his eyes, and new lines crosse
d his forehead.
Mort was draped across both of us, making certain we weren’t going anywhere. It was the only quiet time I was likely to get, so I used it to think about Cadir. Hopefully, for the last time, although I didn’t believe I’d be that lucky.
My father.
Why in the godless hell had I been upset enough to cry? It wasn’t as if he’d meant anything to me, as if we’d even known one another. A few things he’d said had passed my “truth test,” though. He had built a special nest for Mother and me. And he was besotted by Ceridwen. Not that it earned him points in my book, but that he was able to love anyone—no matter how ill-advised—spoke well for him.
“You’re awake.” Bjorn’s voice sounded rusty, kind of like I felt.
“Barely.” I snuggled deeper into his arms.
He smoothed a thumb over my cheekbone. “How are you doing?”
I shrugged. “Not sure. I don’t get it. We did what we set out to do. I should be ecstatic. First step in the battle is over. We won. Instead, I wish we could have done something less permanent.”
“No place to contain him,” Bjorn reminded me, “but this cuts deeper than that.”
I nodded. “It does. I was just doing my damnedest to come to terms with…everything. Not knowing who my father was held its own set of problems, but meeting him and seeing up close what a self-absorbed bastard he was…” I stopped to arrange my thoughts. “The whole experience was a million times worse than I imagined.”
Bjorn kissed my forehead, giving me space to keep on talking if I wanted.
I laughed, but it came out shaky and shrill. “I suppose the proper term for what I’m feeling is mourning. I’m grieving for the family I never had, for the father who cared even less about me than Ceridwen did, if that’s even possible.”
“Nay. Ye’re wrong.” He switched to Old Norse. “Cadir was crazy. I suspect he always flirted with the edges of madness, but he adored your mother, and he wanted to love you. When ye told him off in the Celts’ hall, ye hurt his feelings.” Bjorn took a measured breath. “He was banished afore ye were born, or he’d have moved worlds to lay eyes on his daughter. He loved you enough to select a name for you. Dragons have verra few offspring. ’Tis doubly true since the dragon council decreed enough of them walked the various worlds.”