by Ann Gimpel
“I noticed. Where were you?”
“My dragon has returned as well.” Johan beamed, clearly delighted to be reunited with his beast.
“Did he say where they went?”
“I will tell you,” my dragon said. “You didn’t give me a chance. We were in the dragons’ world. Konstantin’s dragon had something he wanted to accomplish.”
“It’s all right,” I said to Johan. “My beast just told me.”
“Mine too,” he said between bites.
I reached inward, happy to have my dragon nearby. She puffed steam through my mouth, so she was glad to be reunited too. “You’ve been practicing fighting,” she said, followed by, “We must practice together.”
I pushed myself to move beyond how unnerving it was that she knew everything I’d done. Hell, she probably knew what had wandered through my mind too, which meant my discussion about Konstantin wouldn’t pass unnoticed. Not much I could do about it.
“My beast thinks we should practice fighting in her form,” I said, adding, “It’s a good idea.”
“Mine suggested the same thing,” Johan said. “Do you want to go outside? Or back to the practice arena?”
“What do you think?” I asked my bondmate.
She preened, clearly appreciating I’d asked her opinion, but she’d had centuries in her dragon body and it still felt awkward to me. “Outside. More space.”
Johan must have heard her too because he said, “You know we cannot go so far as the surface, but great untapped vistas extend beyond the first lake.” He angled his head, clearly listening. “My dragon votes for outside as well.”
We finished what was left on the table and trooped up the stairs. Being naked didn’t bother me anymore, and it certainly made shifting more convenient. No clothes to remove and fold and remember where I’d left them. A few dinosaurs dotted the space between the house and the lake. I wasn’t sure where the other types of shifters were. Kon had offered them rooms—or maybe assigned them—scattered throughout the dragons’ former home.
Once more than fifty dragons had lived here, but now it was just Kon and Katya.
I held an image of my brilliant-red dragon in my mind and felt the now familiar stretching and tearing sensation. Thank god shifting had become doable. After my initial near-death experience, I’d been skittish as a colt about changing forms.
We stretched our newly formed wings and waited as fingers and toes ceded to talons. Next to me, Johan’s green dragon took shape. He was gorgeous shades, with scales ranging from forest green to emerald. Soon we were both airborne. Flying as a dragon is such a treat, it’s impossible to find words to describe how wonderful it is.
Our body is bulky and ungainly on land, but a thing of grace and beauty in the air. I still remember when I doubted we’d be able to fly. Brother, was I ever wrong. We winged our way past several lakes. Shifters clustered around the first three, but after that, we had the place to ourselves.
Remembering why we were here, I bugled and said, “Looks like a good place to practice. No one to hit below.”
Fire blatted from my mouth, painting distant cliffs. I got the idea and flew at the cliffs from different angles, seeing if I could hit a defined area. Johan was doing the same thing about a quarter mile farther on.
“Build a ward,” my dragon instructed.
I diverted magic and shaped a sloppy shroud around us. It took a few minutes before I had all of my dragon body covered. When I reached for power to blast the cliff again, there wasn’t enough.
“There’s a trick to this, eh?” I mumbled.
Dragon laughter trumpeted through our mouth. No wonder my bondmate had told me to ward our shared form. She must have known it required a balancing act.
Flying complicated things. It wasn’t second nature, and splitting my attention three ways—remaining airborne, warding myself, and fighting—wasn’t possible.
Not yet.
I landed, intent on mastering two out of three. Unlike Kon, my beast didn’t intervene. She let me futz with various combinations of magic until I discovered one that allowed a passable ward with enough power left over to fight. Once I mastered it, we took to the air once more.
We didn’t remain long, only until I convinced myself what I’d done would work. I’d blown through scads of magic experimenting. If we were called to fight right away, I’d be going into battle in a serious one down position.
“We’re heading back,” I bugled at Johan.
He was on the ground, a spot where I’d spent plenty of time as I worked through some of the finer points of titrating magic, so I’d have enough to stretch across simultaneous tasks.
“We shall leave soon as well,” he told me.
I started to ask if I could help but remembered how put out I’d been by Kon’s helicopter-parent routine. Johan was an adult. If he needed assistance, he’d ask for it without prodding from me.
We’d no sooner started back when telepathy reverberated through my mind. The practice session had been timely, indeed. We were being summoned to the lake near Kon and Katya’s grotto.
A frisson rattled my scales. Part fear, part excitement, it filled me with anticipation. After all our talk about taking on the sea-serpents, we were about to engage them in our first major undertaking. Different from when Kon and I had lured two into their human forms and killed them, this would involve all of us and as many serpents as showed up.
“The basic principles are the same,” my bondmate reminded me.
“Do you suppose they’re still mortal as humans?” I had no idea what the fuck we’d do if they weren’t. Not many options when you battled immortals, although the serpents had done a fine job of immobilizing dragons in ice on a borderworld.
“I do not know. We will fight what is in front of us. When we finish with one enemy, we shall move to the next. Until there are no more.”
My dragon sounded supremely confident. I wondered if she harbored doubts, or if they weren’t part of being a dragon. Regardless, I’d do well to copy her attitude. Focusing on the present had moved my brawling skills to a whole new level.
We cruised in and landed. Most of the shifters were human, so I reached for my other form despite grumbling from my bondmate. I scanned the assemblage and saw Katya but not Konstantin.
Where was he?
“He is our mate,” my dragon said, sure of herself as always.
“What makes you think so?”
“I know these things, and I adore his dragon. I must approve your mating, and I heartily favor him.”
I blinked back surprise. For a second, my beast had sounded like a besotted schoolgirl. I smothered a bevy of thoughts, most of them disagreeable. I’d be damned if I’d be railroaded into marrying anyone just because my permanent dragon bondmate liked his dragon.
Of all the reasons not to marry—or mate, or whatever their nomenclature was—my dragon liking his dragon was highly placed on the list. I’d tell Kon yes when I was good and ready and not a second sooner.
And I hoped to god I’d see my way clear to either a yes or a no soon. It wasn’t fair to either of us to leave his offer hanging.
“Come close!” the dinosaur shifter with oodles of tiny braids covering his head invited. “We have a battle to plan.”
The same sense of edgy anticipation I’d felt earlier rolled through me. If I’d still been human, I’d have happily sat out anything that smacked of war, but I’d made my choices.
I’d be the best goddamned dragon shifter I could. I’d make my beast proud of me. And Konstantin too, if he was in a generous mood. Blistering insight slapped me hard. One of my biggest reservations was no matter what I did, he picked it to shreds.
Maybe he was always critical—of everything and everyone—but if he and I were to be a couple, he’d have to suspend that side of himself where I was concerned.
“Tell him,” my beast piped up, proving she was always listening, and I’d never again have a private thought.
“Not right now,�
� I said in as firm a tone as I could muster. “And not until we get a break in the fighting. He is our commander. He has far more to concern him than me hashing out the fine points of our mating.”
Smoke and ash billowed from my mouth, and I added, “You will not tell his dragon, either.”
I felt her unrest as she rolled within me, but she didn’t reply. Probably for the best. Now wasn’t a time to get into an argument. We had to be of one mind to get through the next few hours. I was sorry I’d squandered so much magic, yet it had been necessary.
Otherwise, I’d have been stuck either warding myself or fighting, but unable to do both at the same time.
Konstantin
Konstantin had been crouched on the headlands between two boulders for a long time. His entreaties to the land weren’t working, and his patience was growing thin. Normally, Antarctica’s stark beauty was stimulating, with its tones of silver and gray and the restless Southern Ocean, but today he could have been anywhere. Because his magic was spread in a wide net, he felt the passengers’ pervasive horror as the serpents broke through the ice and slithered up and over deck railings and onto their ship.
He’d never spent much time worrying about humans. How they felt. What they thought. None of it had ever mattered—until now. He’d watched human wars come and go, but those had been their own doing. This time, they were victims of magic that should never have been turned against them.
Magical creatures were governed by a covenant. Part of it was to leave humans strictly alone. It was why Katya had been so angry with him for revealing himself to three Russian seamen. Of course, he’d killed two, but then he’d made damn good and sure the last one’s crewmates saw him.
It had been foolish, but he didn’t want the memory of dragons to die out. Whatever would replace them could never be as inspiring. He couldn’t actually hear the people aboard the doomed ship screaming, but he didn’t have to. Their emotions pounded through him until his dragon was so furious talons poked out as the beast tried to force a shift.
Fire shot from his mouth. “We must do something,” his dragon shrieked, nearly deafening him as it commandeered his vocal chords.
“Quiet! We have no idea where all the serpents are.”
“The hell we don’t,” the dragon sputtered. At least he was back to using mind speech. “They’re eating those poor, helpless people.”
Konstantin ground his teeth in frustration. It was precisely what was happening, but one dragon had no chance against an entire phalanx of serpents. He reached into the land beneath his haunches one more time and took off the gloves. Before, he’d tried for diplomacy, and it had gotten him nowhere.
“You are dying because you’ve given up. It doesn’t have to be that way.”
Nothing. Emptiness reverberated back at him as if he’d tossed his entreaty into a vacuum.
“Punish those who have misused you,” he went on. “Take back the glory that is rightfully yours. It isn’t too late. Unless you do nothing.”
Maybe he was expecting too much too soon. He searched for a calm center and made a grab for it. Mu had taken months—perhaps annums—before she’d spoken with him. The problem was he didn’t have that kind of time to spare. Mu had been an experiment, one he hadn’t believed would pan out.
Earth could be a long-term project too, but not with the sea-serpents intent on overrunning it. He rebuked himself for not starting sooner. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been here for a long time, but wooing the land and convincing her to trust him had never been a priority.
Until now.
“We have to do something,” his beast insisted. “Call the others. The serpents are out in plain view. We can immobilize some of them. Like we did with the renegade dragons on the ninth world.”
Konstantin wasn’t at all certain their ninth-world strategy would work for a boat stranded in ice. Before, the dinosaurs had borrowed magic from a cooperative planet and buried three traitorous dragons in layers of dirt and ensorcellment.
Dinosaurs drew their power from the land. Whether their brand of magic would be as effective on the ocean was an unknown. Additionally, they’d lived on the Fleisher system of borderworlds forever. The land knew, and presumably trusted, them. Earth wasn’t proving nearly as cooperative.
“Do something!” His bondmate was done waiting. And done with telepathy. Smoke and ash punctuated his words.
“Give it five more minutes, and then I shall summon the others.”
Smoke, fire, and ash told him more clearly than words that his dragon disagreed. For every second they delayed, lives were lost.
Kon spread his hands across a boulder in front of him. “Last chance to help us.” He sent his message as deep into the earth as he could. His threat had no teeth. Assuming the land was listening, she’d know full well that last chances came and went.
As he waited, he thought about Erin. He loved her, desired her, but didn’t understand her. She’d made a decent point about never learning a new skill if he kept doing things for her, but she could have been nicer about it. He was almost certain she’d wanted him to leave, and it cleaved him to his soul.
They were almost mates. How could she not want him by her side? All of the time. Through good times and difficulties.
His nostrils flared in frustration. The almost mates part was a sticky wicket. Maybe the possessiveness beating a path through him would become more manageable once she was well and truly his. The overprotective instincts driving him to shield her were pushing her away. But how could he not hover? He loved her. Leaving her on her own ran counter to his better judgment in a serious way. Mates defended one another.
An idea formed. He hadn’t given Erin any chance at all to go to bat for him because he always took the lead. If he sought her opinion, allowed her to follow her instincts—but made certain to be close enough to pick up the pieces—she might feel less put-upon.
“You do approve of my mating, do you not?” he asked his beast. He thought his bondmate liked Erin, but they’d never had an actual discussion about it. The dragon’s blessing was a lynchpin, one he needed to make certain of.
Fire and ash turned to steam. “Of course. Her dragon and I are in full agreement it is a beneficial mating. For us all.”
Relief streamed through him. If the dragons were on board, all would be well. They could sabotage matings. A corner of his mouth twisted downward. Three out of four pieces were in place. All Erin had to do was get over her ridiculous fear of commitment, and they’d be golden.
Mated just like Katya and Johan.
Why in the hell had it been so much easier for Johan? He’d dithered about a bit, but when the moment of truth came, he’d signed on the dotted line. Had Katya caught him in a moment of weakness? Say, for example, when they were in the throes of passion? He’d tried that method with Erin, but she’d mastered a veritable treasure trove of sex tricks that didn’t include consummating the mating bond.
He sent one more entreaty deep into the land. With the same result.
Konstantin removed his palms from the boulder. He’d waited long enough. For the earth to respond and for Erin to embrace the inevitable. Not much he could do about the former. It was clear he wasn’t going to establish a link with the land.
Not this land, and not today.
He raised his mind voice, intent on reaching Ylon, leader of the dinosaurs. “Trouble up here. Have Katya fill you in. Meet me on the headland with a troop of shifters who are capable of flight.”
He didn’t have to wait long before Ylon answered. “Right away.”
“Finally,” his bondmate muttered, still annoyed. Dragons didn’t wait well. It surprised Kon he’d had the patience to woo Mu into acknowledging his presence. Maybe a similar strategy was needed with Erin too, except he wanted her with a singlemindedness that made putting their mating off painful.
Magic zinged through the air as shifters tumbled out all around him. He waited until the flood slowed. A quick glance showed around fifty shifters. All of the d
ragons except Erin and Johan. Fifteen dinosaurs, and the remainder a variety of birds.
Katya hustled to his side. “I told them about the ship. Are we going to free it? There’s plenty of firepower here.”
He scanned the crowd. Where were Johan and Erin? He bet they were probably together. Jealousy would have pricked deep, but Johan was Katya’s mate. He and Erin were friends, though.
Another missing link. Humans valued friendship. There were many things he hadn’t fully appreciated, but he’d prioritize a few of them. If he ever got clear of his duty to lead this shifter band against the serpents.
Johan and Erin were indeed together. They shimmered into being a few meters away. “Sorry we are late.” Johan waved a hand. “Katya offered her assistance, but I insisted we could do this without her guidance.”
“Turns out we could, but everything takes us longer,” Erin said. “Apologies from me as well.” Puffs of steam followed her words.
Answering steam billowed from his mouth. “Stop that,” he told his beast. Not a time to get mushy over the woman who neatly sidestepped his every move. Focusing on the assemblage, he said, “We will shift and fly to the stranded ship. Our job is to kill sea-serpents. Failing that, to immobilize them.”
“More dinosaurs will be here soon,” Ylon said. “We will build the same type of trap we constructed on the ninth world, but we must do it here. We cannot create such a thing in the sea.”
Konstantin understood. “Assuming we cannot kill them, our task will be to chivvy the serpents here and drop them into your spell.” He had no idea how they’d accomplish such a thing. The serpents would be intent on chowing through as many humans as they could. They’d never leave willingly, and flying with them for many kilometers held its own set of difficulties.
Ylon nodded tersely. “I cannot get the land to answer me. Perhaps you could encourage her to assist with our immobilization casting.”
“She’s not responding to me, either,” Konstantin said.
“She will,” Katya cut in. “She just needs more time. Remember on Mu—”