Dragon’s Heir: Dystopian Fantasy

by Ann Gimpel

  The entire corridor was filled with dragons and steam and bugles and congratulations. Everyone wanted to greet Geir and offer Rowan their best wishes. Their goodwill warmed me. Nothing like having all of dragonkind on our side.

  “You can all go in now,” I told them. “Rowan and Geir will cherish your greetings.”

  “Not too many at once,” Dewi cautioned. “Only a few, and then ye can trade off.”

  While we walked, I told Dewi what we’d found off-world and detailed our suspicions, filling her in about everything from Cadir’s cottage to the cadre of dead on the borderworld where she’d found us.

  She’s a good listener and waited until it was clear I’d run out of words before saying, “Odin needs to know his people have been slaughtered. We must determine who inhabits the outer borderworlds and how they’re organized.”

  “Why go to all that trouble?” I asked. “We could just obliterate the worlds and be done with them.”

  “Ye’re assuming everyone on those worlds is part of this.”

  I shrugged. “Does it even matter? Anyone who ended up there was evil to their bones. What difference does it make if we kill off a few who weren’t directly involved…” Reason stepped in. I was still running on a high from the birth of my son.

  Dewi turned down a side passageway, and we dropped lower into the cave system. When she finally stopped, she turned to me. “Ye figured it out, eh?”

  “I did. We can blow the borderworlds apart with lethal magic, but it will also finish obliterating the barrier between those worlds and everything else. A fair number of those banished to the outer worlds are probably immortal. Once they’re no longer trapped behind the barricade, they’ll teleport to the most convenient next stop.”

  The dragon handed me the placenta and cord. Then she sent a bright arc of magic at the ground beneath our feet. A hole formed and grew deeper. Once it was large enough, I reverently placed Geir’s birth material at the bottom. My magic jumped to the fore and pushed dirt back into place. Once I was done, I added a few swirls so the spot looked like the remainder of the cavern floor.

  “Nicely done,” Dewi said and turned to me. “As things stand, it appears there are holes in the barrier that keeps the outer worlds separate, but they’re not large enough for more than a few creatures to penetrate it at any given time. That would explain why when ye’ve fought, the enemy shows up in waves.”

  “Easier to shore up the barrier than to deal with what happens once it’s gone?” I furled my brows.

  “My take, but we must discuss this with everyone present.”

  “Does that mean dragons, Celts, and Norsemen?”

  The dragon nodded. “Loki will not remain imprisoned long. We have a brief opportunity, and we must move quickly.” Her jaws parted in a derisive smile. “Our tendency is to talk something up one side and down the other. We canna do that this time.”

  “Keep the meeting small,” I suggested. “Odin, Thor, Gwydion, Andraste, you, and Nidhogg.”

  “We must include the blind seers,” she said. “And Arawn. His realm got dragged into this.”

  “Surely, he’s repaired the gate by now.”

  “Even if he has,” she replied, “he has yet to corral those who made a run for it and are probably among the army of shades poised to wreak havoc in the Nine Worlds.”

  “Fine. When do we begin?” I started back the way we’d come with Dewi alongside me. Dragons take on a glowing aspect underground. Makes it simple to see, even in the dark.

  “We shall bide here for a fortnight,” she said. “It will offer Geir time to grow and become stronger—”

  “He’ll only be two weeks old,” I cut in. “He will not be part of any fighting. Rowan, either, if I have anything to say about it.”

  Dewi rocked back on her haunches. Laughter rolled from her along with steam. “Och, proud daddy that ye are, ye’ll be surprised how fast young dragons can grow. Especially younglings with as staunch a purpose as Geir’s. He made the decision to forego pleasant dreaming time within Rowan’s body. He will tell us what he wants, and we will listen to him.”

  I didn’t like it but wasn’t about to argue the point. What bothered me almost as much was the uneasy feeling we were running out of time. Did we even have two weeks to muck about while my son grew stronger?

  “I share your concerns.” Dewi had quit laughing. “And, aye, your thoughts are crystal clear to me. We shan’t be idle. By the time your child can accompany us, we will have plans firmly in place.”

  “Why does he have to come?” I persisted, feeling stubborn—and protective.

  She bent low enough to drop a taloned foreleg on my shoulder. “This is why he is here,” she told me. “Each of us has a life task. Some of us have many. His first is the coming war. It is why he was born.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Her whirling eyes gleamed in the gloomy murk of the passageway. “The same way I knew his name. Ask your son. He’ll tell you quick enough.”

  I thought back to my insight from earlier. The one about magical children coming through us but not needing parents. I’d accepted it then. What was different now?

  Dewi’s claws tightened across my shoulder blade. “The difference,” she said, “is the hatchling is here, and every protective bone in your body has been activated.”

  “I guess I’m underestimating him,” I muttered.

  “Nay. Ye’re underestimating yourself. Ye can let him spread his wings and be the dragon he was born to be.”

  “He has a human form. Will he use it?”

  Dewi’s scales clanked as she shrugged. “I have no idea. We must trust his innate wisdom.”

  And there it was. She’d tossed down a gauntlet. I’d either rise to the challenge or not. “Come on,” I said in a voice I scarcely recognized as mine. “I want to get back to my mate and my son.”

  If he was only going to remain a baby for a short time, I didn’t want to miss any more of it than I already had.

  Chapter Eleven, Rowan

  After what felt like a million dragons had trooped through the cavern with the pool, they’d offered us a lovely room with a raised bed and comfortable chairs. Once upon a time, they must have had those like Bjorn and me stay with them or they’d not have had a room like this ready for us.

  The birth high was fading, and my nether regions were sore. But the warm bundle of scales in my arms was worth everything and then some. He had teeth—plenty of them. But he was careful with my breasts, almost as if he understood biting his food source was bad form.

  I dozed off and on. So did Bjorn. I have no idea if Geir slept. Every time I opened my eyes, he was nursing. He’d figured out I had two breasts, and he moved to the other after he’d drained one.

  Hours passed. Perhaps as much as a couple of days. When I was awake, I ate and drank. Someone thoughtfully kept a teapot filled and biscuits and something sweet and creamy available. The next time I awoke, Bjorn wasn’t there, but I wasn’t worried. Geir nestled in my arms, perpetually attached to a breast.

  I couldn’t quit looking at him. Examining every tiny scale and his perfect little wings was more satisfying than having the finest piece of art to study. A lighter shade of gold than his scales, his wings had remained tucked against his back. Bjorn sallied through the door carrying a platter heaped with some kind of meat. It smelled divine, and my mouth started to water.

  I was done living on biscuits and jam.

  Geir unfolded himself from where he’d been curved against my body, gave a precious little yip, and spread his wings for the first time. They sparkled as he used them as an air foil to float to the ground.

  Bjorn laughed and set the platter down. Our baby leapt square atop the stack of meat and dug into it, chewing and swallowing so quickly I almost couldn’t see his jaws move. “Not so fast,” I said and swung my legs off the bed. I was still sore, but I’d focused magic to work on my stretched places.

  Geir didn’t even lift his head; Bjorn laughed louder. “So
mehow I’m not worried he’s going to choke.”

  I laughed too, at the absurdity of everything. The youngling didn’t need my motherly advice, and I felt certain we’d butt heads more than once. “Gosh, here I thought that was food for us,” I said.

  “So did I,” Bjorn retorted. “Nidhogg disabused me of that notion after he was done putting the plate together, but he said if I returned fast enough Geir might still be eating when I got back here with more of the same for us.”

  On my feet, I walked a few steps in both directions and fine-tuned my healing efforts. Someone had laid a fancy cream-colored robe over the bottom of the bed. I slipped into it, enjoying the fine weave of the fabric against my body. Bjorn wrapped his arms around me, and we stood leaning into each other and watching our baby decimate enough meat to feed a full-grown man. Or two.

  “Do they have kitchens here?” I asked.

  “Aye. Nothing like we’re used to. For one thing, they have no use for ovens. Why?”

  “Once our darling is done, I say we all go there. It might be the only way you and I get anything to eat.”

  “Yeeesssss!” Geir screeched into both our minds, followed by, “More!”

  “Dewi told me he’d grow fast,” Bjorn said. “At the time, I didn’t fully appreciate her statement. How are you feeling?”

  “Not as bad as I expected.” I rolled my eyes. “I got off light. I wasn’t pregnant very long, and the birth was relatively quick. It doesn’t appear we’ll have any of the usual downsides of being new parents.”

  “Like waking up every couple of hours and not being able to leave the baby alone?” He arched both blond brows.

  “Something like that, but it makes me a little bit sad too. I want to take care of him.”

  Bjorn curved a hand over my still partially swollen stomach. “Maybe the next one will need us more.”

  A small snort burbled past my lips. “Next one? Sheesh. We have a war to fight, worlds to salvage. There may never be time for another baby. Hell, it’s a good thing Geir is an independent little cuss.”

  He looked up from the meat platter, golden eyes whirling. “More food.”

  “You’re not quite done with what’s there,” Bjorn told him.

  “I will be, and then I want more.” Geir spoke out loud in a high, piping voice that sounded a lot like his telepathy. He angled his head to one side. “Take me hunting.”

  I squatted next to him and opened my arms. He jumped into them and started pulling my robe open, intent on more milk. “Hold up, little man.”

  He stopped yanking on the lapels of my robe and regarded me. I took it as a good sign he’d stopped what he was doing when I asked him to. “No hunting until you’re bigger, and then I’m certain your grandfather and Dewi would be delighted to take you.”

  “Want you. And Da.” Geir bent his head at an angle to look at Bjorn.

  “Maybe all of us can go,” Bjorn said, “but I’m with your mum. Eat and grow strong. Then we can hunt.” He bent and pried Geir out of my arms, a complex array of emotion washing over his face.

  I pushed upright. “Lead the way,” I said since I had no idea where the dragons prepared food. In truth, I was surprised they had anything as prosaic as a kitchen since I assumed dragons consumed everything raw—once they were grown. The meat Nidhogg had selected for his grandson had been cooked, probably courtesy of dragon fire.

  Gaggles of dragons lined the corridor. We stopped to chat with each one, and Geir experimented with short flights from Bjorn to several dragons and back again. He was clumsy in the air, but I was certain that phase would be short-lived.

  The intense interest other dragons had in my son both delighted and surprised me. Not that I’d spent any time among dragonkind, but I’d never viewed them as particularly compassionate or loving.

  “Was the corridor this crowded when you left last time?” I asked Bjorn.

  “Aye, but I’m not who they were interested in. Starting to feel like I missed out.”

  “You? At least you had parents who gave a crap—even if they weren’t dragons.”

  He laced his fingers in with mine. “I’m sorry. If there was anything I could do, a magic wand I could wave and make your early years better, I would.”

  A wave of love so profound it nearly flattened me stole both breath and words. Geir had been chattering up a storm to a red dragon, who cooed right back. Suddenly, he launched himself off her shoulder and made a beeline back to Bjorn. He grabbed Geir out of the air. “What’s up, buddy?”

  Geir hissed. When he opened his mouth, a tiny gout of fire emerged. The other dragons fell silent. Magic reeking of hot clay cut through the rounded passageway. If I’d had hackles, they’d have risen along my back. Something wasn’t right.

  “Let me through,” an imperious voice demanded.

  “Not a chance,” a black dragon bellowed. Smoke, ash, and fire filled the tunnel.

  “Fuck. Crap. Damn,” I muttered between coughs. “How’d she get loose?”

  “She?” Bjorn sounded confused.

  I nodded as annoyance soured my mood. “It’s Mother. Take us to the kitchens. Now, please. I would, but I don’t know where they are.”

  “I demand to see my grandson.” Ceridwen’s unmistakable strident tone battered me.

  “Bind her,” a dragon shouted.

  “How’d she get loose?” another asked, mirroring my thoughts exactly.

  “Got her,” another voice yelled, followed by an outraged howl and the stink of Celtic magic. Usually the mix of mint and vanilla and amber smells good, but not this time.

  I didn’t know how she’d freed herself, and I didn’t care. What mattered was my son who’d gone on full alert. More fire issued from his mouth, and he trumpeted a challenge.

  “Not smart,” I told him. “She’s bad news.”

  “Bad,” he agreed.

  “Show some respect,” Ceridwen bellowed from behind a wall of dragons.

  “Ha!” I yelled back. “You show some for once in your sorry immortal life.”

  A flurry of red scales announced Dewi’s arrival. The dragons parted to let her through. Potent magic boiled around her. When it cleared, both she and Ceridwen were gone, leaving fumes of baked clay and burned mint leaves.

  “I thought the dragons had her under control,” Bjorn muttered.

  “Control and Mother don’t belong in the same sentence. Bet she cooked something up with the Morrigan, or else she fucked her dragon jailer or something. She has plenty of magic. Enough to sense Geir’s birth.”

  “But she didn’t care about you. I don’t get it,” he persisted.

  Breath swooshed from me. I was still conflicted about Mother. My current struggle was not to feel sorry for her. All she’d requested was a look at her grandson. A grandson who clearly wanted nothing to do with her. I shook my head. I should borrow a page from Geir’s book. He was obviously wiser than I was and didn’t trust her at all. For all I knew, she had some nefarious magical plot close to hand, and the moment she got near Geir, she’d launch it.

  “Look, Mister Voice of Reason,” I told Bjorn, “she didn’t want me, but it doesn’t mean she didn’t view me as her personal property, and Geir in the same light—by extension.”

  “I’m not the enemy, Ro.” He tucked both arms around Geir, who seemed to be settling down.

  Our son opened his small mouth and piped, “Food. Now.”

  “Of course.” Bjorn kissed him and set off along the passageway with me trailing behind. What had Geir sensed? He’d been almost like an early warning device and had beat a path to Bjorn before any of the rest of us knew Ceridwen was nearby. Thank the goddess he had the sense to come to us for help. I could just as easily have seen him flying right into Ceridwen’s not-so-tender embrace shooting fire at her.

  Grandson or no, she’d have flattened him with magic. Mother has always been a temperamental bitch.

  I hustled to catch up with Bjorn and Geir, wincing when my sore tissues rubbed against each other. Geir puffed
steam. I wished I could puff some back. Instead, I stroked his head. “What did you notice?” I asked.

  “Notice?” More steam.

  “When you hurried to Daddy,” I clarified.

  “Wicked. Bad. Too close.”

  “You did the right thing,” I told him. “She is bad, and she would hurt you.”

  “Not what she said.” He trained his whirling eyes at me over Bjorn’s shoulder.

  Oh-oh. “She talked with you?” I tried for a gentle tone, no neat trick when outrage began in my feet and flashed through me like a tidal wave.

  “Grandma,” he said and reached for me with a small foreleg. I gripped it.

  “She is your grandmother,” I agreed, “but she…” I floundered, hunting for what to say that a child might understand.

  “Bad,” Geir repeated.

  “Yup. She puts herself first. I don’t trust her, and she’s my mother.”

  “Not trust. Never.” Geir nodded solemnly.

  “I wondered about that,” Bjorn spoke up. “How he sensed Ceridwen before the rest of us.”

  “Well, they do share blood,” I murmured. “Might make it easier.”

  “Nah. The slam dunk was she talked with him,” he replied, followed by, “Son, your first lesson will be constructing a ward to keep bad people out of your mind.”

  Geir cocked his head to one side. I was still holding onto his foreleg. Everything he did was so stinking cute, I was having a hard time thinking straight. Bjorn was definitely onto something, though. If Mother had been able to slice right through and engage my son in conversation while Bjorn and I—and the dragons—remained oblivious, we had a problem. A big one, and we had to nip it in the bud. Before something far more evil than Mother approached him.

  I let go of Geir’s talons and bent close, kissing the top of his head. He lurched over Bjorn’s shoulder and grabbed my amulet. “Whoa.” I pried his claws away.

  He let out a mournful little squawk. “Mine.”

  Dragons adored gemstones and precious metals. It was hardwired into them. “We’ll help you start your own hoard—” I began.

  “Bad Grandma told me. That is mine,” he howled.