Authors: Sara King
Alaskan Fury (59 page)
“When the Inquisition wants to
bring the war to us,” the dragon growled, “we will be ready for them. Until
then, it’s none of our business.”
“They will pick you off one at a
time,” Imelda insisted. “It won’t be a
war
. It will be an
attrition
.”
For the longest time, the dragon
only watched her. Then it grunted. “I will sponsor you to petition the
Council. But don’t be surprised if they turn you down.” He lifted his head
and glanced at the ridgeline. “You see that outcropping of rock, unicorn?
Take her up there. There’s a crack in the stone that turns into a very large
cavern. Make yourselves at home. You will be under my protection. I will
summon my fellow Council members.”
“Um,” the unicorn said, glancing
up at the rock jutting from the snow. “I don’t like caves.”
“Well, I need to go up there,”
Imelda said. “I guess I could
walk
, but then I wouldn’t have to be your
prisoner anymore.”
Quickly, the unicorn said, “I’ll
take you. You have to let me carry you wherever you want to go for three
years, remember? We’re
oathbound
.” And then the unicorn was trotting
up the hill, towards the rocks.
Imelda heard an amused rumble in
the back of her mind. “…
many
years in Hell, Inquisidora.”
“He’s down there!” ‘Aqrab cried,
pointing. Thunderbird was still in his avian form, flat on his stomach, his
electric feathers littering the sixty-foot groove that he had carved into the
forest floor. He wasn’t moving.
The dragon grunted and dove.
Above them, the Furies were yelling at each other and gesturing, their wings lighting
up the clouds above them, continuous lightning flashing in the near-black
hailstorm around them.
Savaxian flared in the newly-made
clearing and landed beside the unmoving demigod, giving the body a disdainful
sniff. He made no move to try and flip Thunderbird over, however, as the black
feathers were still crackling with electricity.
‘Aqrab slid off of the dragon’s
back and knelt beside raven-winged immortal. “Peace,” he called, sharing Savaxian’s
wariness of actually
touching
the Thunderbird as he slept. When he
received no response, he cleared his throat and said, louder, “My liege!”
Thunderbird remained motionless.
Wincing, remembering the smoldering wreckage of the helicopter, ‘Aqrab looked
around for a stick. Ripping a branch from a fallen tree, he came back and
tentatively poked Thunderbird in the feathered back. “Wake up.”
“Half my hoard says the prissy
fop is faking.”
‘Aqrab ignored the dragon. He
pushed the stick harder into the Thunderbird’s body, the ribs, this time. “My
liege! We need to get out of sight!”
No response. ‘Aqrab tossed his
stick aside in frustration and eyed the nine-foot beast. “How much do you
think he weighs?”
“I am
not
carrying that
pompous peahen on my back.”
“Come on!” ‘Aqrab cried. “We
can’t leave him.”
“I can,” the dragon muttered,
ruffling his scales and glancing up at the Furies.
Cursing the dragon’s heritage,
‘Aqrab turned back to his friend. Then, before he had a chance to think about
how much it was going to hurt, he squatted, grabbed Thunderbird’s sizzling wing,
and hefted it backwards as hard as he could.
Surprisingly, it only made his
hand tingle. In prying the demigod off of the ground, however, he saw just
enough of a gigantic, bloody gash through his chest to release a startled spasm
of heat before the weight of the creature’s wing overcame him and he had to
drop it again.
“He’s wounded,” ‘Aqrab said.
“It’s bad.” He dropped beside Thunderbird’s head—his beak was long and black,
like a raven’s, and partially burrowed into the frozen ground—and pressed his
fingers through the feathers of his friend’s neck, looking for a pulse.
It was there, but extremely weak.
“Oh Goddess,” ‘Aqrab whispered.
“We need to get him flipped over so I can heal him.”
The dragon rolled his eyes.
“What, he got a little bump on the head and now he’s going to take the rest of
the day off?”
“He took a Fury’s
sword
through the
chest
,” ‘Aqrab snapped. “Help me flip him over or I swear,
you’re about to discover a strange new pox on your balls.”
The dragon gave him an irritated
look, but then heaved a huge sigh and unconcernedly grabbed one of the beast’s
wings in his jaw and easily pulled the massive corpse over.
‘Aqrab’s breath caught at what he
saw. Even the dragon had the decency to wince.
“He’s toast.”
“I can’t heal that by myself,”
‘Aqrab whispered.
“Well, I guess that answers the
question,” Savaxian said. “The puffed-up peacock
is
full of shit.”
“That’s not funny.” ‘Aqrab knelt
beside Thunderbird’s neck again. “He’s still alive,” he said, biting his lip.
“But not for long.”
“Why’s it not healing?” the
dragon asked.
“It was a Fury’s
sword
,”
‘Aqrab said. “The energy negates their healing abilities. They’re
made
to kill other immortals.” He glanced at the sky, saw his magus engaging a
helicopter, cutting its nose and rotors free of the rest of it. If he had her
down here to help, he
might
be able to fuse some of Thunderbird’s
wounds, but he would be completely spent for the rest of the day.
“Give me a wish,” the dragon
muttered. “I’ll heal him.”
‘Aqrab swiveled to him,
frowning. “You don’t even like him.”
The dragon shrugged. “It’ll be
sweet to know I saved his stupid life.” Then, glancing at the pile of innards
on the ground beside the Thunderbird’s corpse, he said, “Besides, it’s not like
we’ve got a lot of options here, if you want him to survive the night.”
And that was the core of it.
‘Aqrab hesitated, biting his lip as Thunderbird’s heartbeats continued to
weaken, then said, “Fine, a wish. It is agreed.”
Immediately, the dragon’s muzzle
peeled back in an evil grin. “Now let’s see. I could wish him back as a
frog…”
“Dragon!” ‘Aqrab snarled,
swiveling on him. “He is about to
die
. I can’t bring someone back from
the
dead
.”
“…or I could wish him an ass for
a face,” the dragon continued, as if he hadn’t heard. “After all, it would be
more becoming than the beardless, girly disgrace he’s got now, when he goes to
meet the gods.”
“I am
not joking
,” ‘Aqrab
shouted. “A pox on your
balls
. You ever had a pox on your
balls
,
dragon?!”
“…or I could wish him
featherless,” the dragon said, his frost blue eyes thoughtful. “That would be
interesting.”
“That’s it,” ‘Aqrab snarled.
“May your balls shrivel and—”
“I wish the Thunderbird fully
recovered from the Fury’s attack,” the dragon said, sighing.
“
Thank
you!” ‘Aqrab
shouted, even as the breathtaking power of the Fourth Lands surged through him
again and demanded,
How would you fulf—
“…except that, in recovering, he
also unfortunately develops an extreme fear of heights from his nasty fall.”
—fill this wish?
Bearing his teeth at the dragon
in a promise of future retribution, ‘Aqrab told the Law,
Heal him fully, and
give him a mild fear of heights.
The Law hesitated.
We are
unsure whether a mild fear of heights falls within the realm of ‘unfortunate’
and ‘extreme’. You must explain or revise.
‘Aqrab realized that he did not
have time to argue the Law. Frustrated, he thought,
I revise. Heal him
fully, and give him an extreme fear of heights.
Granted.
The power rushed through him,
then, and he fell beside the Thunderbird and put his hands to his friend’s
chest. Immediately, violet energy began rushing through him in a powerful
tide, coloring the world around him in hues of purple. Underneath his hands,
Thunderbird groaned.
“You are in deep shit,” ‘Aqrab
growled over his shoulder at the dragon.
Savaxian shrugged. “It was only
fair. The very thought of returning to my cave makes me physically ill.”
And, ‘Aqrab supposed, the dragon
was right. “I will
not
be the centerpiece in a wish-war,” he growled.
“The two of you are going to work things out, together, or I’m going to
disappear and leave you both with the mess you’ve made. One more nasty wish
and I’m gone.” He scowled down at Thunderbird. “That goes for you, too.”
Thunderbird was blinking up at
him, then at the dragon. “He wished me
healed
?” He sounded utterly
shocked.
“Ah, yes,” ‘Aqrab began, “But he
also—”
But Thunderbird interrupted him.
Already shifting down into human form, he was getting to his feet and walking
forward to face the dragon. They stared each other, eye-to-eye, with the
dragon lifting his head stiffly, as if expecting a fight. For a long moment,
there was utter silence. Then Thunderbird inclined his head and said, “I was
wrong about you. I thought you were naught but a vain, selfish, and
small-minded child.” He bowed, deeply. “You have my gratitude, dragon. Your
lands, and your progeny’s lands, will receive good rains from now until the day
I no longer soar the skies of the Americas.”
That,
‘Aqrab thought,
cringing,
might be a lot sooner than you think.
Apparently, the dragon seemed to
have the same thought, because he winced and cleared his throat, sounded
embarrassed. “Ah, yes, well, um…”
Thunderbird bowed again, then
glanced at the bloody furrow he had carved into the dirt, then looked up at the
sky. Immediately, he looked away, swallowing. “A fall like that
certainly…brings things into perspective, doesn’t it?”
‘Aqrab opened his mouth to inform
Thunderbird that the fool dragon had wished his newfound phobia upon him, but
behind the demigod, the dragon was making cutting gestures with his paws,
shaking his head emphatically. ‘Aqrab sighed, supposing that the two could be
left to work out their own problems without his continued interference.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able
to take to wing again?” ‘Aqrab asked, flashing the dragon an irritated look.
“Of course I will.” Then
Thunderbird made an unhappy face and glanced again at the swirling black clouds
above. The two Furies were gone, the helicopters assumedly in pursuit. “But…
Perhaps you’re right. I mean, it is so
soon
after the fall… Maybe I
should just wait.”
Quickly, the dragon nodded,
saying, “You just take all the time you need. After all, it was a
brutal
fall, and not many people would have survived it. You could just stay here and
guard this
important
patch of forest while the djinni and I continue to
the Inquisition’s compound alone.”
Thunderbird glanced at the furrow
he’d made, then back at the sky. “I suppose I could do that.”
“After all, you wouldn’t want to
make it
worse
by falling
again
when you’re still so
uncoordinated
from your last fall,” the dragon went on.
“That
is
true,”
Thunderbird said, sounding nervous as he stared up at the broken treetops where
he’d plummeted through them, only minutes before.
Narrowing his eyes at Savaxian,
‘Aqrab said, “There might be a unicorn in the basement.”
Thunderbird, who had been in the
middle of fluffing out his robes and lowering himself to a fallen log, stood up
suddenly. “I’m headed south. Those who want my protection, follow.” Then he
was shifting again, his ebony feathers sliding from his skin. A moment later,
a crack of his wings and he was in the air.
Low
in the air, but in the
air.
The dragon untangled himself from
where he’d been knocked over by the Thunderbird’s wingbeats. “Why’d you
do
that?! He was going to stay here while we scoured out the compound. We
wouldn’t have had to put up with his narcissistic bullshit!”
A crack of lightning up ahead
heralded the whining hum of a helicopter, followed by the roar of twisting
metal as something slammed into the ground.
“Because I’d rather have
that
watching our backs when we do it,” ‘Aqrab said.
The dragon made a face. “Fine.
But I get whatever’s in the basement.”
“I highly doubt there’s a
unicorn,” ‘Aqrab said. “I was just saying that for his benefit. They’re just
too rare.”
“If there
is
a unicorn,
the pigeon will have to fight me for it. Now get
on
. Before he gets
there first.”
‘Aqrab rolled his eyes, but
climbed onto the dragon’s glass-smooth back. “Whatever’s in the basement, we’re
going to be
freeing
them, not enslaving them for our own means.”
“
You
aren’t.”
Then they were aloft, with the
dragon struggling to keep up with the slow, lazy flaps of Thunderbird.
