Dragon (12 page)

I don’t need to hear any more. Ram is barely able to keep the yagi at bay, I can’t see Ozzie in the darkness, and Ion’s pawing hands have shifted the balance, spurring me into motion in spite of the yagi’s freezing wails. I spin free, the dagger in my right hand extended toward Ion’s heart as I step back and pull out one sword with my left hand.

Just as quickly, Ion has a sword in his hand.

Blimey.

I leap backward, into the fray. I’d rather fight yagi with Ram than try to match swords with Ion.

For a few moments, all is chaos, the yagi pressing so close I can’t see what I’m doing. I whip my left arm—the only one with a sword—in the butterfly maneuver, not even bothering to aim, while I slash and jab with the dagger in my right hand. I don’t expect to kill the yagi with the stunted blade. I’m just hoping to keep them from poisoning me with their barbed appendages, spearing me with their horns, or slashing me with their talons.

We’re fighting in tight range, nearly overwhelmed. I’m not even sure where Ram is until I feel something bump my back. At the same instant, I hear his voice.

“Keep your back against mine.” It’s Ram. He has a strategy. I feel a surge of hope. With his swords slashing behind me, I don’t have to spin myself dizzy just to keep yagi from sneaking up and spearing me in the back.

I’m swiping with the sword in my left hand, the way he taught me. Now that he’s at my back, I have a chance to slip the dagger back into the sheath on my thigh, and pull out my other long sword, the metal singing as it should.

The hybrid henchmen fall back half a step. It’s progress. I decapitate three yagi before Ion intercedes.

“Ilsa, come with me,” he says, blocking my sword strokes with his blades.

I try to push his blades away, but he’s too strong for me. I lift my swords higher and try to twist, to swing, block, something, but this is beyond my skill level, and even as he forces my movement to a standstill, the wailing yagi freeze my frame.

And Ion knows it. He does some sort of fancy flicking thing with his sword, and disarms my right hand, flinging the blade away into the yagi-filled darkness.

He clamps his hand around my other hand, the one still holding a sword. He angles the blade away from himself, almost behind me, as though to stab Ram if he gets too close.

I’m panting, knackered already. And, yeah, also completely terrified. Focusing all my strength on moving one body part against the paralyzing sound waves, I slip my empty hand to my hip and wrap my fingers around the hilt of my saber, unsure of my next move, or if I’ll even be able to move. Ram has his hands full with yagi and I still haven’t seen Ozzie. I hope she’s okay. If the yagi got to her again…

“Come with me, Ilsa. You can be human.”

“What good would I be to you human?” Unless I completely misunderstood his earlier implications, Ion wants me to bear his dragon babies—something I might have actually considered if he hadn’t proven himself to be a narcissistic bugger who wants to kill me.

Ion laughs. “More use than dead.”

As he’s speaking, one of the yagi lunges toward me, horns down to skewer me, and with a jolt of terror that’s enough to free my hand from its frozen state, I pull the saber from my hip, catching the yagi under the chin (not that they really have chins), and slicing its head half off its body before kicking the carcass over.

Ion still has my left hand tight in his, and now he lunges to grab my right hand as well, but instead of pulling my hand away, I whip the saber around toward him. Movement begets movement—it seems to be the key to overcoming the paralyzing wails. My sword sings as it whips through the air.

This is the move that sliced so many round steaks this summer, that freed so many flank steaks from the loin. And it very nearly severs Ion’s ribs, too.

He releases my hand and leaps back as the tip of the saber grazes his shirt.

I’d love to feel triumphant at this moment, and it’s great to have the use of my left hand again, but the look on Ion’s face erases any thrill of victory I might feel.

He is no longer trying to woo me, or even toying with thoughts of letting me live. Cold fury radiates from his face, through his body, and down his blade as he swings it toward me.

I leap out of the way just in time, half stumbling over a yagi twitching on the ground. There are two more yagi behind me and I swing my blades butterfly style, never mind that one sword is a saber. Their heads roll and I step past them, kicking their bodies toward Ion.

He leaps over them, through the air toward me, sword raised. I’m still drawing back from kicking the yagi. He’s faster and his blade is coming down toward me. I lean back but his sword is long, far longer than the distance I can lean.

But at the same moment, I hear a snapping growl behind me and Ozzie leaps over my head, into Ion, into his blade.

I stumble away over fallen yagi, decapitate two more, spin around to see what’s become of Ion. He’s only got one sword now, as far as I can see.

Another yagi lunges toward me. I sever its head, my attention mostly on Ion and Ram and Ozzie.

What happened to Ozzie? The ground is a mass of twitching yagi in the darkness, and I don’t dare look any closer. Ion bounds toward me and I whip my saber back as I dart behind a tree.

Ion swings his sword.

I duck behind the tree.

He sidesteps the tree and swings again.

I dive behind another tree, but we’re getting closer to the lake, and trees are fewer here. Soon I won’t have anywhere left to hide.

Ion’s hungry grin says he knows it, too.

I scramble backward, unwilling to turn my back on Ion, though I can’t move as quickly as he can when he can see where he’s going and I have no idea what I might bump into behind me. The unearthly wail of yagi has died down, at least. I think we’ve killed most of them.

Ion sidesteps another tree. He swings his sword at my neck. I sprint for the lake, splashing into the shallows in my stocking feet. Ion follows me, laughing, swelling, growing.

He’s going to turn into a dragon, isn’t he?

Ram charges toward us, breathing fire at Ion as I wade deeper into the lake to escape the flames. As I watch, Ram leaps forward, morphing into a dragon as he lunges through the air, still breathing fire, extending his talons toward Ion as though to shred him on impact.

But just as quickly, Ion changes, too. Talons meet talons with the sound of a score of swordsmen, blade on blade, piercing the night as fire billows from their mouths.

I’m rib-deep in the lake now and duck to avoid the flames. When I come up for air a moment later, the two dragons are in the sky, screaming and clashing and tearing at one another. Ram slashes at Ion, who brings his spiked tail around like a club to block the blow. But just as quickly, Ram pivots in the air, coming up under Ion headfirst, aiming the two pointed horns on his head at Ion’s belly.

Ion doesn’t have time to move out of the way.

Ram’s horns make contact and rip through Ion’s underbelly.

Blood drips from the monster as Ion turns his back on Ram and flies away through the night, clutching his injuries with both hands.

Ram slashes after him only briefly before swooping around, lowering himself down from the sky with his mighty wings even as he returns to human form, his wings the last to go. He lands in the shallows facing me, wearing a pair of boxer shorts and his swords. He’s panting.

I wade through the water toward him. “Where’s Ozzie? Is she okay?” I’m about to step past him when he stretches his arm out, catches me, and pulls me against his shoulder.

I instinctively tense—this is too similar to the way Ion caught me, held me, and threatened me mere moments ago. But Ram’s hold is not tight.

“Don’t look.” His words are heavy, almost choking.

The moonlight reflects off the water and I can see more clearly here than I have all night. I look into Ram’s face. More than sweat is dripping down his face.

Is he crying?

I can see clearly that he is. I just can’t quite accept that it’s true. Ram doesn’t strike me as the crying type. Invincible guys don’t cry, do they?

“She wanted it this way. She wanted to go down fighting, not wasting away.”

“No.” I shake my head and stumble past Ram, splashing in the shallows. “No!”

I reach the campsite. The twitching yagi have nearly stilled, a vaporous mist rising from their bodies, stinging my eyes. I can see Ozzie’s still form among them, completely motionless, Ion’s sword jutting up through her chest.

I start to pick my way past the yagi toward her.

“There’s nothing you can do for her. She’s dead.” Ram’s hand falls on my shoulder.

Torn between struggling forward to Ozzie and turning away, I stop still, stare a moment longer, and then let Ram pull me backward, away from the fallen yagi and the stinging vapor that’s rising from their dissipating bodies.

“No,” I whisper, even though I know it’s true, even though I know she’s gone, there’s nothing I can do, and she probably wasn’t going to make it home, anyway. “She was protecting me. That sword was meant for me. I’m alive because—” grief chokes off my words and I can only point feebly toward the dog who was a friend to me when I had no other friends.

“She wanted it this way,” Ram whispers.

I look him full in the face, wanting to protest, to insist that a guy who can transform into a dragon should have been able to save my dog, but I know that’s not true. Theoretically, I can transform into a dragon, too, but that didn’t help Ozzie.

So instead of saying anything I just stare at Ram that much longer, watching the tears overflow his eyes until I don’t think I can stand any longer and I reach my hand toward him to steady myself.

Ram’s hand is still on my shoulder. As I lean in toward him, he wraps his arm around me and settles my head against his chest. I can feel the grief choking inside him helplessly, and I bawl alongside him, ugly sobs that wrack my body with lurching spasms of hurt.

I’m crying harder than I ever cried into Ozzie’s shoulder, and on top of loss I feel guilt, that Ozzie died to protect me, that Ram lost his dog because of me, that Ram gave me his dog and I got her killed.

On the tail of my guilt comes resentment that I am a hunted thing. I didn’t ask to be a dragon. I don’t want to be a dragon. For so long I wanted to know who I am, but now that I know, I almost wish I could un-know it. Or better yet, be something else.

But didn’t Ion offer me that already?

Temptation and grief war inside me, fueled by guilt that somehow I did this, that if I was other than what I am, Ozzie would still be alive.

I place my hands against Ram’s collarbones and peel my face away from his chest. I can see his eyes again. They’re lovely, glowing like starlight, twinkling like sapphires. But Ion’s eyes are lovely, too.

“Ion said they could make me human.”

Ram freezes, his stare suddenly turned to ice.

“Just human,” I continue. “Not a dragon anymore.”

Ram shakes his head slowly. “No. It doesn’t work like that.”

“How do you know? Maybe it can. Ion said it can.”

Ram narrows his eyes slightly—not angry, but just like he’s trying to understand. “Is that what you really want?”

The answer is so obvious, I almost choke on it. “Ozzie is dead because I’m a dragon.”

“Ozzie is dead because of Ion.”

“Because I’m a dragon.” I don’t want to fight with him. “Ion understood. I didn’t even have to tell him how I felt. He knew. He came to me and offered that they could make me human—only human.”

Ram’s jaw clenches so tight I can see it under his eyes, in spite of his beard. “Do you know how he knew?”

“Because he understands me.”

“No. No.” Ram draws a deep breath, shaking his head slowly, and once again, apology fills his eyes. I am so sick of seeing apology in his eyes. He sucks in another breath, kind of ragged this time, like he’s fighting to tell me something he desperately doesn’t want to say.

“What?” I prompt him.

“That’s how your mother died.”

Chapter Thirteen

“What?” I choke on the question.

“Eudora told your mother she could make her only human. After her victory making the yagi, people believed her. Your mother went to her. Until that moment, no one realized your mother was a dragon, or that there even was another female dragon besides Eudora.”

“I thought your mother—”

“My mother had died by then.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Ram dips his head in acknowledgement. His beard twitches and he finds his words. “Your mother’s name was Faye. Faye Goodwin. She went to Eudora, but it was a trap. Faye realized it too late and tried to get away. But your father had someone working near Eudora, keeping an eye on her—”

“A spy?”

“Yes. Your father had a spy watching Eudora. He got word of what was happening and flew to your mother’s rescue. That’s how they met—when he arrived to free her. Unfortunately, she was gravely injured by this time. He took her as far as he could and tried to nurse her back to health. In the process they fell in love.

“The yagi tracked them down and attacked. Your father tried to defend her, but Eudora fought him. The yagi killed your mother.”

It’s a long time before either of us speak. Somehow, even though I’ve always known my mother was dead, hearing how she died makes it more real. And terrible. “Didn’t you say before that you were there—that you helped my father escape?”

Ram hangs his head as though ashamed. “I did what I could. Your mother was badly injured already, and we were vastly outnumbered. To be honest, my biggest concern was getting the egg to safety without anyone knowing it ever existed, before the yagi destroyed it, too.”

“The egg?”

“Your egg. You.” Ram’s eyes twinkle for the first time since he landed in the lake and saw I was okay.

“She died before I was born.” I repeat the words I’d heard before but never understood.

“Technically, before you were hatched. Your father took the egg back to Azerbaijan and hid you in the village—we were, at least, successful in keeping the egg hidden, and keeping your existence a secret for several years. I don’t know how or when Eudora learned about you. I’m sure she has spies. Ion is one of them.”