Dragon Maid (16 page)

“If I’m recalling correctly, there is more than one stone circle in these islands,” Britta said.

“Good call.” Mary Elma clapped her hands together. “We need a place that concentrates power. One the gods can’t eschew if we call them.”

“Sounds like the Callanish Stones would be our best bet.” Jonathan’s nostrils flared. They’re on Lewis Island in the Outer Hebrides.” He turned to Britta. “Where exactly are we now?”

“I may not have modern names for you. But we are on the western shore of what was once called South Uist Island.”

“It’s the same,” Mauvreen noted.

“Och, and I know Callanish well,” Lachlan said. “See you at the Stones.” The air shimmered around him and Maggie.

“Hold.” Britta ran to him. “’Twould be safer if we formed a power circle and traveled as a group. I doona wish to lose any more of us betwixt here and there.”

He clamped his jaws together. “It pains me to admit it, but ye’re likely right.” The arm he’d slung around Maggie tightened.

Britta gestured to everyone. “Who’s seen Callanish most recently?”

“Probably me.” Jonathan stepped to her side. “I spent a holiday on Lewis Island just last year.”

“We’ll lend the power, ye can guide the spell.”

•●•

The amount of power thrumming through him was shocking. Jonathan had no idea how to command so much magic, but he felt intoxicated by the possibilities. If this was how it felt to straddle the continuum between man and god, he wanted more of it.

The Callanish Stones rose around him; their uneven obelisk shapes amplified the blend of magics so the very air turned color—greens, blues, violet, rose—and hummed with a craving to shape spells. He’d been impressed by the Stones when he’d visited them, had understood why ancient magic wielders sought out power spots such as this one. In this moment, surrounded by dragon shifters and two strong witches, he understood he’d barely tapped the beginning of the Stones’ potential.

Humans strolled past, oblivious to their group. “What should we do about them?” Jonathan gestured.

“Nothing,” Mary Elma said. “They won’t remember a thing.”

“In fact,” Mauvreen flicked her fingers at two different groups, who turned toward the parking lot, “they’re just leaving.”

“What if others arrive?” Maggie asked.

“I’ll manage them,” Mauvreen said tersely. “Let’s just get on with this.”

“Good idea. Before Arianrhod decides to flee to another time—or world—to escape her shame,” Britta added.

Jonathan placed himself between two stones and laid a hand on each. He still felt the others’ magic surging through him. The stones amplified it until it crashed from side-to-side in his soul. “Arianrhod.” He called her several times. Magic built to a crescendo; he felt as if he’d laid hands on a raw power source, one which could injure him badly if he didn’t stay on top of things.

“Try Mother.”
Britta spoke into his mind.

Knowing he’d have to let go of the magic soon, before it chewed him up and spit him out, Jonathan cried, “Mother,” over and over again.

“For the love of the goddess, shut up.” A strikingly tall woman with silvery hair that reached the ground formed out of the mists between the stones and stared across at him with her odd-colored eyes, one gold, one silver. Arianrhod wore hunting leathers that fit her lithe form like a glove. A bow was slung over one shoulder, and knee-high leather boots were laced about her lower legs.

Jonathan blinked stupidly. He hadn’t expected their ploy to work. Not really. Lachlan and Britta were quick to bow. Jonathan, still feeling dazed from channeling so much magic, was slower on the uptake. He grappled for words, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

“Well?” Arianrhod glanced from one to the other of them. “You summoned me. What the hell do you want?”

Jonathan’s throat tightened. He fought anger burning a path up from his belly. This was his mother? She didn’t have the maternal instinct of a sand fly. He opened his mouth to tell her she’d been a piss-poor parent, but she stalked in front of him. Lithe as a large jungle cat, she glared at him with about as much warmth as a predator might have for cornered prey.

“Doona bother debating what to give voice to. I can read your thoughts.” She brayed laughter. “Even if I couldna do that, they’re written plain as a scroll on your face. What would ye have me say? Your da was a very compelling man. He wooed me in the
Dreaming
, visited me there. In a weak moment, I followed him to Earth, and ’twas my undoing.” She jabbed a long-nailed finger into his chest. “I birthed you. I nursed you. Once ye dinna need me anymore, I delivered you to your da to raise.”

Jonathan found his voice. “How could a two- or three-year-old child not need its mother any longer?”

She shrugged. “’Twasn’t my problem. I figured your da would come up with a human woman to replace me.”

He thought about telling her that hadn’t happened but swallowed the words. The emotional poverty scarring his childhood wasn’t at issue here. It wasn’t why they’d summoned the goddess. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming. We need your help.”

Arianrhod narrowed her eyes. “Aye, and I thought it must be something like that.”

Lachlan and Britta stepped forward. After a brief exchange of glances, Lachlan spoke for them. “Goddess. We, too, are grateful you are here. Britta and I are dragon shifters—”

The goddess rolled her eyes. “I am not stupid. I can see. I also doona sense the dragons, so I’m guessing ’tis why you have need of me. What’s happened to them? Did they get angry with you and retreat to Fire Mountain?”

Britta shook her head. “The bond doesna work that way—”

Arianrhod interrupted. “The bond I know about doesna allow ye to be separate from your dragon. Ye are in one form or the other.”

“There is an older, more powerful bond…” Lachlan explained it, sketching the differences in just a few words.

“Och, so you were separate from your beasts and someone—or something—made off with them.”

Jonathan nodded. “Lachlan and Britta believe they’re somewhere else in time.”

“Seems simple enough.” The goddess spread her hands in front of her. “Why are you all still here? Why havena you begun to search?”

Lachlan blew out an impatient-sounding breath, as if he were trying to be polite. “Only dragons and Celts hold the secrets of time travel. We canna go after them on our own.”

“Ah, I see.” Arianrhod moved next to Jonathan and laid a hand on either side of his head. He tried to guard himself, but a shock rattled through him. The goddess looked up, a pleased expression etched on her ageless face. “My…son has the power.”

He gasped, struggling to catch his breath. “M-maybe I do,” he stammered, “but I am untaught.”

“Taught by witches, ye mean.” Arianrhod sneered. “It comes down to the same thing.”

“I resent that.” Mary Elma started toward the goddess, but Mauvreen lunged for her arm and grabbed it.

“Wise witch,” Arianrhod muttered. She added, “Mayhap I made a mistake by not claiming my son, yet I canna undo it now,” under her breath.

“How quickly could my mate learn to bend the strands of time?” Britta asked in a clear, ringing voice.

“Your mate, eh?” Arianrhod’s gaze swept appraisingly over Britta. “Can’t fault him for his taste. I assume your dragon likes him too.”

“Aye. Tarika adores him.”

“Ye’re mated to that one?” Arianrhod’s eyebrows rose. “She’s one of the First Born. I had a dragon lover, er associate long ago. ’Twas a relative of hers.” She cleared her throat, looking mildly chagrined by her slip. “Which other dragon is missing?”

“Kheladin,” Lachlan said.

“Mmph. I havena heard of him.”

“Likely ye wouldna have,” Lachlan concurred. “He is a youngling by dragon standards. With all due respect, my lady, we need a way to track those who—”

“Do ye have any idea who or why?”

Jonathan glanced sidelong at his mother. She seemed to have no patience for allowing anyone else to finish their sentences. Lachlan answered evenly. “Aye. We believe the Morrigan is behind this. She would maintain chaos and war on Earth until there is naught left.”

“Pah! What a nuisance she has become. Yet she doesna work alone.”

“How do you know?” Jonathan asked, curiosity burning deep. Had Arianrhod been in their minds, or did she know something new?

“The battle crow has never worked alone. She co-opts others to do her bidding, discards them once she’s burned them up, and finds new allies.”

“In this instance, ’tis two other dragon shifters—bonded the more traditional way,” Britta said. “Unfortunately, one of the dragons, Malik, was an egg-mate of Tarika’s.”

“Mayhap an egg-mate,” Arianrhod clasped her hands before her and eyed the group, “but not one of the First Born, which means he is expendable.”

“Will ye help us?” Lachlan held his hands out in a gesture of supplication. Jonathan guessed it cost him dearly. From what he’d seen of Lachlan, the dragon shifter was a proud man. He probably hadn’t asked for assistance very often over the years of his life.

Arianrhod creased her high, patrician forehead in thought. “Ye already asked for aid from us to clip the Morrigan’s wings, did you not?” At Lachlan’s nod, she went on. “We have a non-interference policy into human affairs.”

“Aye.” Britta stepped closer. “We know.”

A corner of Arianrhod’s mouth twisted into a shrewd smile. “I have a suggestion. I havena been much of a mother.” Jonathan opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. “Doona bother contradicting me. I see the truth of your heart in your eyes. I shall take advantage of this opportunity to, um, train my son. If we find dragons along the way, so much the better.”

Smiles lit Lachlan’s and Britta’s faces. “Thank you,” they said with one voice.

“Yes.” Jonathan inclined his head toward his mother. “Thank you very much. How shall we begin?”

The goddess scanned the group. “There are too many. I will take three, the two dragon mages and my son.”

“I want to stay with Lachlan,” Maggie countered. “I’m his mate.”

“Your magic is green. Ye’d be nothing but an impediment.”

“Mine isn’t.” Mary Elma straightened her spine. “Take me in her stead.”

Arianrhod was silent for long moments. Finally, she shook her head. “Nay. Ye’d argue with me at every turn. I doona need turmoil. My first offer is my last. Three go with me, or I leave you to figure how to find the dragons without me.”

“We accept,” Lachlan said.

“What?” Fury rode beneath Maggie’s words. “I love Kheladin too. I’ve ridden him.”

“Lass,” Lachlan sounded torn, “we can sort this out once Kheladin and I have returned. Ye canna bargain with the gods once they have made up their minds.”

“You can’t just leave me here.” Maggie took a step toward him; angry color stained her cheeks. “We’re stronger together. What about the prophecy—?”

Mary Elma and Mauvreen closed on Maggie, flanking her. “We shall discuss this later, child,” Mary Elma growled.

“If we doona leave soon,” Arianrhod said, “I may change my mind and depart without any of you.” She opened her arms. Magic crackled through the air. “Get closer,” she hissed. “Doona make me squander power.” She skewered Jonathan with eyes that looked suddenly alien. “Pay attention…son. This may well be the only lesson ye ever get from me.”

Arianrhod pursed her lips; her gold and silver gaze shifted to Maggie. “Ye say ye rode the dragon, lass?”

Maggie’s head snapped up. Hope blazed from her blue eyes. “Yes.”

“Get over here. I will bring you with us.”

Arianrhod watched her son through hooded eyes. He’d grown into a comely man.
Mayhap ’twas wrong of me to do as I did.
Her thoughts turned to her magically conceived sons, Dylan and Lleu, neither of whom had comported themselves particularly well. Dylan was dead by his uncle’s hand, and Lleu had sunk to near obscurity…

She held their traveling magic close, prepared to loose it once she had a destination in mind. “Should we try the past first or the future?”

“If Rhukon is mixed up in this, I would vote for the past,” Lachlan said. “’Tis where he sent me when he tried to separate me from Maggie.”

“Why would he have wanted to do that?” Arianrhod demanded.

“On account of the prophecy,” Maggie murmured.

“Aye, ye mentioned it a little bit ago. If I knew about a
prophecy
, I wouldna have asked,” the goddess said, her tone terse. “Answer me quickly afore I must recast our traveling spell.”

“Maggie and I are Earth’s only hedge against the Morrigan’s wholesale destruction,” Lachlan said. “She’s tried many strategies to keep us apart so she can continue to sow chaos and poison the planet.”

“With the help of Rhukon, Connor, and their dragons, she’s damn near succeeded.” Maggie muttered.

Arianrhod pursed her lips. “Hold. Is this the prophecy where the dragon shifter and his mate, who comes to her power so late ’tis a blooming miracle she finds it at all, drive the battle crow into Fire Mountain where the dragons imprison her?”

“Likely,” Britta said. “We hadna heard that last, but it helps to have a goal mapped out. Thanks.”

“It also explains why they targeted our dragons.” Lachlan made a rude-sounding grunt. “Without them, there’s no access to Fire Mountain.”

“Oh yes, there is.” Britta squared her shoulders. “I went alone as a maid when I had but seventeen summers—”

“The dragons would have killed you and spit you out had Tarika, or one of the others, not wished to bond with you,” Lachlan said.

“Och aye, and I wasna aware.” Britta sounded cowed.

Since there was little advantage in discussing Britta’s stupidity as a youth, Arianrhod refocused them. “Returning to the current problem, ’tisn’t likely those at Fire Mountain would welcome a prisoner they had to ride herd on until the dawn of the next age—unless a dragon escort brought her and insisted.

“I know enough. We shall leave. We will begin our search in the past. Pay close attention to this spell, son. Come into my mind and watch its making and deployment.”

•●•

Jonathan gripped Britta’s hand. Arianrhod seemed to be warming to him, but he didn’t trust her. How could he? She was the same woman who’d abandoned him as a toddler. He wondered how long she’d lived. Surely the short span of his life was trivial when balanced against her thousands of years of existence.
Which means she hasn’t changed at all, and I need to guard myself.