by Ann Gimpel
Konstantin
A Short While Earlier
Konstantin retreated to a distant corner of the headlands, determined to make one more bid to encourage Earth to communicate with him. If he could get the land on board, it would make such a difference. He’d left Ylon and Nikolai in charge of crafting a roadmap for their first actual skirmish. He wasn’t certain just how much of a jump backward in time his little sleight-of-hand maneuver had bought them.
Probably not much, given the location of the ship and the large chunks of brash ice floating in the ocean. He hoped he’d been successful trapping a fair number of serpents in the time warp. It would remove them as threats for a few days. Maybe.
He crouched on a spot of open ground between two large rocks and splayed his hands on the dirt in front of him. It was fortunate he had something to occupy himself, otherwise he’d be mired in worry about Erin.
He never should have let her go off by herself.
Konstantin slapped one hand against the ground and told himself to stop it. He’d had good and sufficient reasons not to order his not-quite-yet mate to stick by his side like glue. If he did too much of that, she never would be his. Katya was with her, and she’d let him know if anything went wrong.
It wasn’t quite as effective as being there, but almost. He could teleport to damn near anywhere on Earth in a heartbeat. As settled as he was likely to get, he made an effort to clear everything but the living, breathing land from his mind.
“I know you’re there,” he told Earth. “We could help one another.”
He pushed a gentle flow of magic through his fingertips and deep into the rich, loamy ground.
And waited.
Time dribbled past just like with his other attempts to coax the land to recognize him. He chided himself for all the wasted years when he hadn’t bothered. If he’d begun this process when he first selected Earth, the land might have been far more trusting.
The longer he thought about it, the more certain he was that he’d stumbled onto something critical. The past hundred annums had been very hard on this world. Damage from mankind had snowballed, become irreversible. The incursion of sea-serpents had probably been a death knell. The land was fighting back, but it seemed the heart had gone out of its efforts.
Given the similarities in their roots, sea-serpents probably felt a whole lot like dragons to the land. She might be laboring under the illusion his flight of dragons were simply precursors to the serpents.
An idea formed. Earth had an extensive subterranean network of channels. In addition to the underground lakes, mountain ranges soared, far higher than anything on the world’s surface.
“I’m not leaving.” He kept his voice soothing, reassuring. “I’m moving closer to the heart of you, so we can talk more easily.”
Konstantin stood and walked quickly to the thick knot of shifters with Ylon and Nikolai in the middle. His bondmate was still kicking up a fuss about Erin. The dragon thought they should go after her first. Once their almost-mate was back by their side, Kon could do whatever he wanted.
“She’ll return once she’s done,” he told his beast, and then added, “Katya is with her. If you’re worried, check in with Katya’s dragon.”
Smoke and ash rained from his mouth, evidence the dragon didn’t agree with his assessment. Erin was theirs. She needed them by her side.
The circle parted to let him through. He scented the air, intent on checking for sea-serpents and not finding any. “Whatever you’re about,” he said, “keep it going. I’m not having any luck up here, so I’m going to travel closer to the heart of this world. If I guessed right, she will have a much harder time ignoring me.”
“And if you guessed wrong?” Ylon angled a pointed glance his way.
Konstantin snorted. “Then I’ll be back damned fast.”
“Have you heard from Katya?” Nikolai asked.
“No. I just suggested that my beast get a full report from hers, though.”
“Good.” Yle scrunched his forehead into thoughtful lines. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I had a bad feeling about that research base.”
Heat built in Kon’s chest. He opened his mouth to let fire escape. Once it cleared, he said, “I’m sure everything is fine.” He wished Yle had kept his doubts to himself, but that cat was out of the bag. All it had done was get his beast even more ramped up than he already was.
“Probably is,” Nikolai chimed in. In his human form, rust-colored hair fell in tangles to the middle of his back. He was tall, but not quite as gaunt as he’d been when Konstantin ran across him on a borderworld. “After what happened on the third world,” Nikolai continued, “where I almost lost six of my flight to dark sorcery, it’s hard not to worry.”
Konstantin clapped him across the back. “Like I said, I’m certain all is well. Katya would raise me with telepathy if it weren’t.”
“Once you’re mated,” Yle spoke up, “you’ll sense what’s afoot through the mating bond.”
More fire, smoke, and ash rolled from his mouth.
“We should have bedded her before we let her leave,” his dragon ranted, clearly incensed.
“We did not let her leave,” Konstantin corrected his beast. “She is an independent person. I have no jurisdiction over her decisions.”
“She owes allegiance to you,” the dragon blustered.
“Allegiance is one thing, mating quite another,” he informed his bondmate.
“Regardless of what happens below ground, I shall return before one turn of the glass,” Konstantin told everyone. Visualizing a spot not far from his lair, he teleported to it.
And then, he addressed his bondmate. “Erin was human until a very short time ago. You cannot expect her to eschew every single value she’s ever held dear overnight.”
He stopped to take a breath, but his beast wasn’t talking over him. He took it as a promising sign. “We have to meet her at least halfway,” he went on. “If I start ordering her about, it will be a death knell. She will never be ours.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Then I’m wrong,” he retorted. “Clopping her over the side of the head and raping her isn’t going to endear me to her. It may force a mating bond, but she’d be miserable. And make our life hell.”
“She’d get over it.” The dragon sounded certain.
“No. She wouldn’t. Besides, she has to want me for me, not because I forced her to do something she was deeply ambivalent about.”
Konstantin waited, but the dragon didn’t say anything further. “Can we move on?” he asked his bondmate.
Sulky ash spewed from him, but at least it wasn’t tinged with fire.
Walking quickly, he covered the distance to the third lake from the one nearest his lair. A shaft off to one side led deep into the Earth. He’d been down there once. Narrow and steep, it was adorned with rich veins of ore that appealed to his dragon’s soul.
He stemmed his body into the nearly vertical shaft, leaning his back against one side and his knees against the other as he slithered downward. A mage light glittered into being below him to light the way. It reflected off crystals embedded in the walls, creating a multihued display that flickered and sparkled.
Soon, he reached the bottom, and he took a moment to revel in the beauty of a cavern banded with silver, gold, copper, and chromium. Chunks of minerals littered the floor. It took willpower not to snap them up and teleport them straight to his hoard.
He followed a path he’d discovered a long while back. It ran out of the cavern and along a curved tunnel with a gently downward cant. One side of the passage dropped away. He brightened his light, and it reflected off jagged mountains. A long row of them rose from unseen depths and towered far above his head. Rather like a world within a world, the rocky crags beckoned to him, but they weren’t why he was here.
Konstantin walked until he located a flat ledge. Perching on it, he said, “I have come a long way to meet you where you live. I can travel lower still. It wo
uld be new territory for me, but if I hunt for a route, I’m certain I can locate a path to the bottom of this trough.”
He dropped his barriers, made himself as accessible as he could. Nothing happened.
“Try my form,” his beast suggested.
It was a decent idea, but first Konstantin said, “Other worlds have trusted me. Mu warned me when her destruction was imminent. In return, dragons eased her way through her ending. The Fleisher group of borderworlds put their faith in me.”
He blew out a fire-tinged breath before going on. “In the dim reaches of the past, the sea-serpents were cousin to dragons. No more. Our god, Y Ddraigh Goch, severed that tie and penalized the serpents by removing their wings—and their fire. They can no longer fly. Dragons and serpents might have the same feel to you, but we are nothing alike. Serpents are our enemies as well. It is why I am here as a supplicant. Working together, we can rid Earth of the serpents.”
“Dragons are as faithless as sea-serpents.”
The words reverberated off the walls and created a circular repetitive echo. Konstantin was ecstatic. The land had broken her silence.
“It is partially true,” he replied. “Some dragons have become corrupt. Our god is doing his best to destroy them.”
Moments dripped by. A lot of them before the rich, low voice said, “Why should I believe you? Men lie.”
“I am not a man, but a dragon shifter.” Before the land replied, he opened a path to his beast. The dragon formed quickly and spread his wings. The ledge that had accommodated him before was suddenly much too small. A few flaps and they were dipping and climbing in and around the craggy mountains. They were lovely and isolated. He might be the only one who’d ever laid eyes on them.
Spying a particularly rich vein of gold, he flew toward it, wanting a closer view. He extended a taloned foreleg to break off a quartz crystal studded with gold that was sticking out but changed his mind.
Stealing from the land was the wrong approach. He located a broader area a few meters lower and landed on it, waiting to see what would happen next.
Maybe nothing, but he’d gotten so much farther today than with his other attempts, he felt encouraged.
“You want something. What is it?” The voice was back. No longer rich and honeyed, it sounded suspicious and tired.
He folded his wings and directed his whirling gaze toward where the voice had come from. “I want us to be allies.” He used the dragons’ tongue, but the land was old. She should understand.
“Allies presumes we do things for one another.” The weary aspect edged up a few notches. “What, precisely, are you expecting me to do for you? Before you answer,” the land went on, “know that I am dying. Mankind has stripped me of every conceivable commodity to make themselves wealthy. They have been neither kind nor careful.”
“I am sorry.”
“Pfft. Pretty words. How sorry are you? You and your kinsmen have been here for a long time. You arrived when I was still robust, yet you did nothing to aid me as I weakened. Surely, you recognized I was in danger.”
If he’d been human, he would have winced. How to explain the complex covenant that governed those like him without sounding petty. As if upholding the precept that dragons did not reveal themselves to humans was more important than a dying world.
Besides, he’d been quick enough to break that rule when he decided humans should never forget magic was real.
“What happened, Dragon? Did you run out of pretty words?”
His beast wanted to bugle and shoot fire. Konstantin kept their mouth firmly shut while he summoned shift magic. This transformation was neither quick nor simple because his beast fought him every step of the way.
Finally, he stood in his human body, feeling like a two-faced bastard. He spread his hands in front of him. “What can I do except apologize? Yes, we understood men with their digging and drilling and industry were damaging you. Shy of leveraging magic and killing bunches of them, I’m not certain what we could have done.”
“Talk with them? Men love to talk.”
“When money is concerned,” he pointed out, “they become conveniently deaf.” He pushed his shoulders straighter amid cracking vertebrae. “I assumed this world would warm and oceans would rise. Once that happened, many men would die off. Fewer humans would have meant less impact on your resources.”
“You were planning on leaving long before any of those things occurred.”
His eyes widened. Only one way the land could have known that. “You’ve listened to Katya and me.”
“Perhaps a time or two. Not much else to occupy myself with. If you’re expecting an apology—”
“I’m not. You have a right to know everything that occurs on your world,” he hastened to reassure her.
“Thank you for that. I am old. And weak. If I were honest—which I frequently am not—I don’t believe I could be much help with your serpent problem.”
“It’s yours too,” he told the land. “If they win, the wickedness that’s plagued you will seem like nothing compared with the ruin they’ll create.”
“You said you aided Mu at the end…”
Konstantin understood the rest of her unstated request.
“We would help you as well. Set a truth spell to test my words.” He bowed his head and waited. The jab of unfamiliar magic augured into him from all sides.
After a lengthy pause, the land murmured, “I must think on what you’ve said.” Unlike before, her voice was faint, distant.
“Please, don’t go yet.” But when he reached out with a thread of seeking magic, the land was gone.
“What do you think?” he asked his beast.
“She spoke with us. It’s a beginning.” Steam puffed past his jaws.
Konstantin reversed his steps, climbing toward the ledge where he’d begun. From there, he’d walk to the steep shaft before teleporting. He could have traveled from where he stood, but he needed time to think.
It had damn near killed him—and broken his heart—to hasten Mu’s destruction. A promise was a promise, though, and he’d offered it freely. Mu had warned him to vacate her world in plenty of time to accomplish the task. It was only when dragonkind were almost gone that she’d begged for assistance.
She’d said much the same thing Earth had. That she was weary to her core and had lost the will to go on. If he’d refused her, his lack of generosity would have haunted him for the rest of his days.
A long time, given his immortality.
He’d had no idea how hard it would be. Mu’s tortured screams as her core blew apart had pierced his soul. He was the only one who’d heard her because he was the one with the link to the land. The other dragons he’d rounded up to help him were spared the sound of her agony as magma blew outward. Coaxed by dragon magic, the process had happened fast.
He’d always wondered if it would have hurt less if they’d used a different incantation. Mu had asked for a quick and merciful end, though.
Her demise had been quick but far from merciful.
He’d reached the bottom of the nearly vertical shaft. His mage light had shaded to gray, mirroring his bleak thoughts.
He’d have to talk with Earth, let her know dragon aid came with consequences.
“Mu’s end was…difficult,” his beast said, sounding sad. Not a typical emotion for a dragon.
Konstantin held off summoning a teleport spell. His bondmate rarely admitted to any feelings beyond anger and entitlement.
“Mu was much like our world,” the dragon went on.
Interest kindled. For all his years bonded to a dragon, he knew less than nothing about the dragons’ world.
“So it was like destroying the mother land where dragons were born.”
“Did the other dragons who helped feel the same?”
Ash rained from his mouth in a wordless affirmation.
“But we were the only ones who heard Mu’s screams.”
“Sometimes one does not have to hear to feel reflected ag
ony,” his bondmate said.
Konstantin dug deeper. “You’re telling me this because you believe we’ll have a difficult time persuading other dragons to help Earth find a way out of her misery.”
Fire and smoke joined the flood of ash. “None of the dragons who took part in Mu’s end would willingly do that again.”
“Would you?” Konstantin waited. Without his bondmate, his promise to ease this land beyond her suffering hadn’t been much more than the pretty words she’d accused him of.
“I am your dragon. We shall do what is necessary.”
It wasn’t exactly an answer, but it was as good as he was going to get. He’d lived with his bondmate long enough to recognize probing for more would be fruitless.
He set a teleport spell in motion, aiming for his grotto. He wasn’t totally settled on what would come next, and commanders who went into battle without a clear plan were at a disadvantage. The breadth and depth of the sea-serpents’ strategies were disturbing.
They’d clearly been planning a coup for many months, perhaps years. Hence the breeding farms on nearby borderworlds. Had Earth always been their target? The more he thought about it, the surer he was he was right. Centrally located, Earth provided a convenient jumping off place for other spots. It was large enough and diverse enough to provide a defensible home for his erstwhile kinsmen.
The breeding farms he’d destroyed on the ninth world in the Fleisher system had been arranged in pods, suggesting possible intent to move the operation at some point in time.
His beast had been quiet after stating the obvious, that he was a dragon, and dragons didn’t back away from distasteful tasks. Kon walked through a gateway and stood gazing at the still surface of the lake nearest his lair. He and Katya had remained here far longer than was prudent. Hidden away from other dragons and all other worlds, they’d missed early signs that might have alerted them to the serpents’ plans.
“Can’t go back,” he muttered as his thoughts turned to Erin. Were she and Katya and Johan back yet? If so, had they convinced the ship to either alter its route—or abandon it altogether?