Dragon Fire (Dragons of Perralt Book 1) (8 page)

And what of Drake? she wondered. He was wounded. She had seen that gash on his shoulders. How could he fly? What if there were more dragons? What if the Gray was leading him into a trap?

She wanted to follow. Every instinct she had cried for her to follow. But that was ridiculous. They were miles from here. How could she ever find him?

Her measly abilities sent a shaft of shame through her. Oh, how he must have laughed at her. Every time he saw her stumble on the trail. Her difficulty with the fire. He must have found it so funny.

The man could have sneezed and started a fire. Why did he need her to do it?

The thought depressed her. She felt a blue funk settle over her as a tear slowly dripped down her cheek. Here she was, still sore from her night with a dragon, and now he had abandoned her alone, in the Forbidden Forest.

The man was a bastard. Pure and simple. A dragon bastard.

Drake fought to continue. The Gray was gone and wouldn’t be coming back. A protective need coursed through him. He must return. Elsbeth must not be left alone. Especially, now.

Besides, he was going to need her help. His shoulder continued to drip blood with each beat of his wing. It would continue to do so as long as he flew. It needed to be immobilized in a sling, but slings were not conducive to flying.

He beat his wings again as he scanned the forest beneath him. It formed a green carpet, stretching as far as the eye could see. His home, his to protect.

Sending out his senses he searched for any other beasts.

No, he was alone. He was sure of it. The Gray had fled. It was either that or die. Drake’s teeth had come so close to reaching the vital jugular. But the Gray had broken free before he could finish him off.

Heaving a heavy dragon sigh, he continued to make his way back to Elsbeth.

Why had the Gray appeared? Why now? Did it know of the medallion? Had it sensed it and come seeking the precious item? No, surely not.

He reworked the fight in his mind. Something about the Gray was familiar. Something pulled at his memory. Maybe, it wasn’t about the medallion. Maybe, the attack was because of something from his own past.

Some long forgotten enemy.

He continued to ponder and question as he struggled to return to her. He could feel himself losing energy with each drop of blood. His strength sapping away. Could feel himself sinking lower. Closer to the tree tops. If he fell now, he might never find Elsbeth, again. She would wander off. Get lost. Or worse.

There were too many dangers in the forest. Things she would never know about. Now, there were other dragons to fear. If the Gray had attacked. Others might as well.

No, he thought, as he fought to rise higher in the sky. His shoulder screaming with agony. He had received a dozen other cuts. But, nothing as severe as the bite into his shoulder.

Every beat of his wing caused something to grind against something within the joint.

It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. He must return to Elsbeth.

The thought of the woman left behind sent a cold shiver down his long spine to the tip of his tail. She was going to be upset. He well remembered the look of shock and anger on her face when he had turned.

This was not the kind of thing the princess was used to dealing with.

Shaking off the fear that rumbled deep inside of him, he searched for the clearing.

At last, there to the right.

Dipping a wing, he banked and began the descent.

The beast in him rebelled. Fighting the need to return to human form. The beast preferred the freedom of this form. Looking down at the world. Everything and everyone cringing in fear at the mere sight of him.

The beast rejoiced in the fight. Wallowed in the pool of adrenaline. He had defeated his enemy. There was no greater achievement.

Yet, he must return. His duty was to protect. But, it was also to care for those who were special to him. She deserved no less.

Flaring his wings, he came to rest at the edge of the clearing. Elsbeth stood at the far side. Staring at him hard, as if he had ruined her life. Her hands on her hips, her head at a haughty angle. She looked down at him even though he towered over her.

Her eyes no longer held the loving adoration he had come to cherish. They now held an indignant anger.

Swallowing hard, he made himself ready for the transformation back.

This was not going to go well. The look on her face told him it would be smarter to stay in his dragon form.

.o0o.

Elsbeth’s insides relaxed a little when she saw the shape appear in the distant sky. It was Drake, she was positive. It had to be. No other answer was acceptable.

Holding her breath, she watched the dark, distant spot grow. Slowly coming closer and closer. Yes, it was Drake, that deep green. It was him.

He looked massive, his armor glistened in the morning sun. His grace and pure power did something to her insides. Called to something deep down.

Shaking her head, she pushed her emotions aside. He had lied to her. Or at least, failed to tell her the truth. He had used her. She wouldn’t have laid with him if she had known, obviously.

He seemed to hover in the air, then gently touched down, folding his wings.

She didn’t move, couldn’t move. Instead, she watched and waited. Would he stay a dragon, or would he return to being a man? Her heart pounded in her chest. The answer was rather important.

At last, a burst of fire and smoke surrounded the dragon. Elsbeth gasped. Would she ever get used to it? she wondered.

The smoke twirled, then seemed to disappear into a hole in the sky as Drake the man walked out from beneath it.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was fully dressed, his sword at his side. It was as if he had walked off to get a rabbit, not chased a dragon through the sky.

He was walking slower than normal, she thought. The vital urge to hurry to Sinstra seemed to have been forgotten. About time.

Elsbeth examined him as he approached. His shoulder glistened, his jacket torn. His white cotton shirt underneath appeared pink for some reason. His face had a gray chalky appearance.

A hand went to her mouth to hide her shock.

He was injured. Badly. Dragon wounds transferred to the human form. How was that possible? How was any of this possible, Elsbeth? She thought to herself. The man just turned into a dragon, and flew through the sky. The normal rules don’t apply.

Lifting the hem of her dress, she hurried across the field towards him.

She was still angry with him, she reminded herself. But, he was injured. Besides. He was her only way to Julian. She needed this man, this dragon, this Dragon-Man, if she was ever to obtain her Crown.

As she ran towards him, he glanced up and caught her stare. A look of regret passed behind his eyes before they rolled up into the back of his head as he collapsed to the ground.

“Drake,” she screamed.

He smiled weakly at her. “I seem to have tripped,” he said with a confused look before he passed out.

She rushed to his side. The metallic smell of blood permeated the air. Pushing the bile that rose up in her throat, she gently began to examine the wound.

A large piece of flesh had been ripped from him. Exposing raw meat and white bone. Even now, blood continued to seep out. She swallowed hard and forced herself to gently turn him over so she could examine his back.

It was the same.

How had he flown with such an injury? How had he even lived?

She looked back, their packs were all the way across the meadow. She didn’t have time and feared leaving his side. Reaching under her dress, she quickly removed her petty coat and began tearing it into strips.

Taking a deep breath, she packed both wounds, front and back, with the fabric, and tied a crude bandage around him. It seemed that only seconds later the white cloth began to turn red with his blood.

There was too much blood. He had lost too much. He should have landed quicker. He should have taken better care of himself. Why had he chased the other dragon?

A million thoughts rambled through her brain as she tried to figure out what to do next.

He needed shade, he needed water, he needed a healer. The realization of all that he needed and how little she could provide hit her like a club to the stomach. This man might very well live or die depending upon what she did.

Looking around, she assessed the situation and made a decision. She glanced once more at Drake. Had his face grown paler? Her heart skipped a beat.

Setting her teeth, she raced across the field to regain their packs. Maybe he had something in his that could help. The thing weighed a ton. She could barely lift it from the ground. How had he carried this all day without ever seeming to tire?

He’s a dragon, she reminded herself with a shake of her head.

Her heart pounding a dozen times with each step as                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            she dragged the pack back to Drake, leaving a long trail of bent grass in her path.

When she reached him, she used the water bag to trickle a little water into his mouth. Once that was done, she ran to the trees to find what she needed. Returning, she used several sticks and her spare dress to create an awning for some shade.

Still, he looked terrible. Her heart continued to race as her stomach clenched up into a ball.

Maybe his pack? she thought as she tore into it. Removing clothes, food, and the rice pot. At the bottom, she found a small leather pouch containing a herb mixture.

She brought it to her nose. The familiar scent of Willow, St John’s wort, and other medicinal herbs greeted her.

Yes, this was what she needed.

Her hands shook as she quickly built a fire and set to making a tea. It surprised her a few minute later to realize, she had made a fire and thought nothing of it.

Turning back, she inspected Drake, again. She found several slight cuts and abrasions, nothing serious. It was the shoulder wound that threatened his life.

What should she do? Where could she go for help? Her mind searched for an answer. There was no one. He was alone. Fear washed over her.

For the remainder of the day she cared for him. Holding his head on her lap, she would give him tea and force him to swallow. She covered him in blankets and kept the fire going.

But, mostly, she waited.

Her heart skittered, her mind darted in a dozen different directions every minute. But, she waited.

The afternoon sun was slowly replaced by the night stars, and she waited.

A lone wolf called in the distance, her shoulders shivered with fear, but, she waited.

He occasionally stirred, an arm here, a leg there, a deep, painful moan. Her hopes would soar, only to be torn asunder when he didn’t wake.

And still, she waited.

The moon rose into the night sky. The night wind became cool. The day’s events finally caught up with her. She could stay awake no longer.

Pulling a blanket aside, she lay next to Drake. She told herself that it was to help keep him warm. But deep inside, she knew it was because she needed his strength against the fear that bubbled just below the surface.

She was furious at this man, but still, something inside of her wouldn’t stop caring.

An owl at the tree line hooted, but Elsbeth didn’t hear. Sleep had taken her.

A soft chuckle woke Elsbeth from a dream about dragons shooting fire, and armored scales tickling her nose.

Her eyes sprang open. Drake.

His good arm squeezed her. Letting her know that he was awake, also.

She sat up and stared at him. He smiled weakly and shifted on the hard ground.

“You’re awake?” she said, unable to believe that he lived. Color had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes were clear.

He nodded and tried to rise.

“No!” she demanded as she held a hand against his good shoulder.

He looked down at her hand, then up into her eyes, silently asking her if she really thought she could stop him from rising.

Her hand dropped away. “You need to rest,” she said.

He chuckled again and shook his head. “I need to go to the trees for a minute. It’s either that or embarrass myself. You gave me enough tea to float a castle stone.”

Her cheeks flushed as she realized what he was talking about. Really, Elsbeth, she said to herself. This is not the time, nor place, to worry about propriety. The man needs help.

She gently guided him to his feet, then held his good arm as he slowly shuffled to the trees. Once there, he looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

Getting his message, she hurriedly backed away. When he was done, he turned, and she was once more by his side.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Her heart refused to beat while she waited for an answer.

“I’ve been better,” he said with a smirk. “But, you can bet, the Gray is doing worse.”

The mention of the other dragon reminded her of what he had done. Of his dishonesty. With a crash, it all came rushing back. The pain, the sense of betrayal, the shame at what he must have thought of her. Now that it appeared Drake would recover, she could let loose the emotions flowing into her.

“Are you sure you are going to be all right?” she asked once more. Her voice holding a tenderness that obviously surprised him.

“Yes, eventually,” he said as he scrunched his neck to look at her nursing skills with the bandage.

“Good,” she said as she slapped him on the good shoulder. “You jerk. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her hand barked with pain. It was like hitting a stone wall and just as effective.

All of the emotions she had felt, every fear and terror. The betrayal and disappointment in him. Everything surfaced at that moment.

Her eyes burned into him. “You are a … a ….”

“A dragon?” he asked.

“No, a jerk, a first class bastard. A mean, and despicable man.”

With that, she hurried to her pack and started stuffing her things into it. She couldn’t get away from this man fast enough. How dare he put her through this? And to think, she had used her last petty coat as a bandage for the man.

He had brought her to new and wonderous heights. Only to pull the ground from beneath her and send her tumbling into despair. The idiot was insufferable and a lout.

Throwing her pack over her shoulder, she started to march across the meadow.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

She didn’t answer. She wasn’t going to give him her attention. He didn’t deserve her attention.

“If you’re going to Sinstra, that’s the wrong way.”

She halted and studied the trees in front of her. She twisted and turned, but could not identify the trail. How did he know where to go?

Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. She couldn’t even stomp off with any sense of dignity. The man controlled everything. He provided the food, knew the way, and protected her from dragons. Without him, she wouldn’t last a day in the forest.

Her people needed a queen, she reminded herself. She must reach Julian. Too many lives depended upon it.

The thought sent a shock of shame through her.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned to look back at him.

He didn’t laugh, he didn’t smirk. In fact, his eyes looked concerned. He was worried about her.

If he had been truly worried about her feelings, he would have told her the truth earlier instead of springing the surprise of all surprises on her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded.

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes downcast, as if he was actually ashamed.

“Because I wanted you too much,” he said. “If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t have understood. To you, I would have been a monster. A creature from your nightmares. I couldn’t stand the idea of you looking at me with fear.”

“But, my look of disappointment and hate, is acceptable?” she asked.

He winced and shook his head as he made his way to his pack. Her stomach clenched into a ball. Her words had hurt him.

She noticed how he kept his injured arm close to his side and grimaced when he bent to refill his pack.

“Let me do that,” Elsbeth said, as she hurried to finish what he started. Her heart silently broke. She had desperately hoped that he would have a good reason. Some magical excuse that wouldn’t allow him to reveal the truth.

Instead, he had used her.

“Here,” she said as she tried to hand him his pack.

He winced as he slipped it over his good shoulder.

She shook her head. “You’ll never make it to Sinstra. The wound will become infected. You’ll grow weak, and leave me abandoned somewhere deep in the forest.”

He smiled. Obviously amused by her being more concerned about her goal and not the fact that he’d be dead at the side of the trail.

“You’re right,” he said. “We need to get help.”

“Help?” she asked. “Where?”

He paused for a moment, as if afraid of what he was about to say.

“My mother’s,” he replied with a heavy sigh.

.o0o.

Drake swallowed his fear as he gingerly stepped over the log. His mother was not going to be pleased. Even now, he could well imagine the raised eyebrow when he showed up at her door.

This was not what was supposed to happen. But, his mother had to be informed. She had to know about the Gray.

Sighing, he adjusted his injured shoulder.

Elsbeth had fashioned a sling for him. He remembered how her tender fingers had brushed his neck while she adjusted it. Her eyes had locked onto his for a moment. For an instant, that familiar spark of passion had been there. Only to be replaced quickly with that hurt, disappointed look of hers. The one that tore at his very soul.

What did she expect? For him to tell her all his secrets? To expose himself. No. He had been hired to escort her to Sinstra. Their joining had been but a side benefit. He hadn’t forced her. She’d wanted it as much as he. Had enjoyed it as much as he had.

Why was she mad?

She’d spent the day shifting between helping him and shooting him daggers of death with her eyes.

He wondered what she would think of his mother. And, what would his mother think of her? He shuddered. He would have done anything to avoid this. The mixing of his worlds could not end well.

Reaching the edge of the forest, he pulled aside the brambles and watched Elsbeth. He wanted to see her expression when she saw the lair.

Elsbeth glanced up at him for a moment, then stepped through the greenery.

She gasped and looked back at him in wonder. He could tell she had a thousand questions, but the woman refused to talk. She had developed the silent treatment to a fine art. Unless it dealt with his health, she refused to acknowledge his existence.

.o0o.

Elsbeth fought to control her shock. She didn’t know this place even existed. No one knew it existed.

The forest had ended to expose a flat, gray granite cliff face. Carved into the cliff were two large fluted columns. Wider than her outstretched arms, both of them rising up so high, she couldn’t see the top.

A trail had been cut into the rock. Weaving back and forth up the cliff face. Stone steps.

She turned to look back at Drake. Did he really mean for them to climb this staircase to the sky?

He can fly, she reminded herself. Heights wouldn’t be a concern.

Of course, she didn’t have the same ability. Heights had always been a worry. She remembered the fear she felt every time she had walked the castle walls at home. The sick, worrying feeling that would creep through her when she looked over the edge.

She had felt the eyes of her people watching her. Always judging her. Measuring her, waiting for her to fail. But it had taken every bit of her strength. It had taken every bit of energy to hide her fear.

Now, the bastard next to her wanted her to climb into the clouds. Why wasn’t she surprised?

He smiled at her and turned to start climbing. His color is better, she thought. Was that due to exertion or had he a fever? Her stomach turned over. What would she do if the wound became infected?

His mother may be able to help, she thought.

The thought of meeting his mother made her cringe. What was she like? What kind of woman could give birth to such a man? Elsbeth looked down at her dress, and ran a hand over her hair. She must look a fright. Three days on the trail. She was in no condition to meet Drake’s mother.

But what choice did she have? The man was already making his way up the stone steps. He wobbled for a moment and reached out to touch the cliff face for support.

She hurried up after him, touching his lower back to let him know she was there if he needed her.

They continued up. Every forty steps, the carved stone would switch back the other direction. Forty steps later, the stairway would shift again. Then again, and again. It seemed as if they would climb forever.

Up they climbed. She felt her breath begin to falter. Her legs grew numb. How is he doing it? she wondered. It must be shear will power.

At last, the stone steps crested onto a long landing that stretched across the face of the cliff. Cutting through one of the carved columns and ending at a very large, very dark opening.

Her heart jumped as she tried to catch her breath.

Drake watched her for a moment, then said, “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Elsbeth shivered, his fear and worry were catching. As she turned to follow him, a woman stepped out onto the landing.

She appeared older, very stately. A stiff back and erect carriage. Elsbeth immediately thought of her Aunt Josephine. The woman was as forgiving as a tree stump and just as exciting.

The woman’s soft gray hair was up and neatly pinned behind her head. She wore a dark red dress made of the finest velvet. Two gold studs for earrings were her only jewelry.

Her hands clasped in front of her, the woman scanned them as they approached. Elsbeth’s stomach clenched in fear. She well knew that look. It was the look her governess would give her when she failed at doing what was expected.

The woman’s stare raked over Elsbeth, making her feel less than acceptable. Then, the woman turned to stare at Drake, quietly shaking her head. Her eyes gleamed with secret amusement, but her lips remained firm and set.

Drake halted before the woman and dipped his head, then turned to pull Elsbeth closer.

“Mother,” he said, “may I present Princess Elsbeth Beaumont of Lushcany?”

The woman’s eyes opened in surprise at the mention of princess, then, quickly ran those eyes over her gown.

“Elsbeth,” he continued, “may I present my mother? Queen Matilda of Perralt, and sovereign of the Forbidden Forest.”

A queen? Elsbeth thought. Another damn secret. Why hadn’t he told her? Elsbeth’s insides stiffened in shock. That bastard. He should have warned her. He should …

Twenty years of training kicked in. She must remember her manners. Dropping into a deep curtsy, she dipped her head with respect.

“Your Highness,” Elsbeth said.

The woman continued to remain quiet, leaving Elsbeth uncertain how to continue. Should she rise? Should she wait for some sign? What were the rules in Drake’s world?

If Drake was a dragon, was this woman a dragon, also? She definitely had the eyes for it. They looked like they could crucify a person at fifty paces.

Drake’s mother was even more imposing than Elsbeth had feared. But to learn she was a queen in her own right. It was enough to make Elsbeth regret ever deciding to leave home.

“Rise, my child,” the queen said.

Elsbeth swallowed hard and rose to look the woman directly in the eye. Best that she learn that Elsbeth was a princess in her own right, as well. The rightful queen to the land of Lushcany.

The two woman studied each other for a moment. At last, the Queen seemed to come to some kind of acceptance and slightly nodded her head. Almost admitting a little respect.

She turned to her son. “This is a surprise, Drake, I thought we agreed to two full years.”

Drake’s cheeks actually flushed. “As I remember it, it was more a royal decree than an agreement.”

A spark jumped into the Queen’s eyes at Drake’s comments. Elsbeth felt for sure this was not the first time these two had clashed.