A Shade of Dragon 3 (4 page)

A
gain
, as before, I slowly lost all concept of time. There were no windows in the dungeon. The best measurement of time that I had was my own physical pangs. I hadn’t peed on myself yet, but I had to go to the bathroom pretty badly. I hadn’t lost consciousness yet, but I was very tired. It must have been hours… and my eyelids were leaden. The floor spun beneath my feet, but I kept my grip. I didn’t know how much longer I could do it, and Altair had lapsed off to sleep after Lethe departed. Without anything to distract me, it was only a matter of time.

It felt like the early hours of the morning, though I could not be sure.

A shadow moved over the stone stairwell, lit by the yellow, fluctuating torchlight. I dared hope that it was Lethe, approaching to free me from the manacles. Maybe he had changed his mind after sleeping on it. But two more shadows came behind it. Guards taking shifts, perhaps? But one of the shadows was too small—

Michelle Ballinger swept around the corner, no longer sparkling in the strangely pointed gown she had worn to visit me the night before. She was now draped in layer upon layer of gossamer silk, all in cream and pearl and ivory. She was annoyingly gorgeous, as usual. Her makeup was soft, almost natural, and her hair fell in straight locks down her shoulders. I could only imagine that she must have awoken early to be tended by some poor group of maids and slaves.

Behind her stood two guards wearing masks of dyed fabric: one red, one blue.

“Morning, darling,” she purred, sauntering to my side. “How can I help you? What can I do for you?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I croaked.

“I just want you to get in the habit of hearing that every morning. Though it will be coming out of your mouth… not mine.” She winked. “Boys? Let’s unfasten this Missy’s chains.”

“It’s Mrs. now,” I corrected her blandly.

Michelle didn’t say anything, but her countenance shifted into an even colder expression. The two guards stepped forward, one seizing each manacle, opening them and letting my arms fall down. They both snatched one arm up in their hands and guided me forward. My legs were about to fail.

“Is Lethe okay with this?” I asked. The two guards led me up the stairs behind Michelle.

“He’ll be all right,” Michelle said.

“That means no,” I grumbled. The door to the dungeon opened and, for the first time in about twenty-four hours, natural light spilled over the floor. In spite of my fate, I was relieved that it was an escape hatch from the prison downstairs.

Michelle turned on me and smiled. “Just be relieved that you’re able to use the facilities upstairs now.”

“My, my,” I muttered. “Haven’t we gotten comfortable in the palace.”

Michelle smirked. “You’re not one to judge, Mrs. Aena. Guards? Can you take her to get cleaned up? I have high standards for my servants. I wish to see them as a… lesser reflection of my own grandeur. And this…” Her nose crinkled and her mouth soured as she surveyed me. “This simply won’t do. Go with them, Nell. Get yourself cleaned up.”

T
he harpy moved
with such speed to escape me, she faltered in the sky and went end over end into the waves, nothing but a spray of sea foam and a tumble of feathers. The sky behind us was turning shades of dusty pink and molten purple with the dawning sun. I flew over her, pinning both wings down easily with my talons—she might have been massive for a bird of Earth, but was obvious prey to any dragon. It was lucky for her that the camps remained slumbering in the distance. “Was your trade with my mate, the very same mate you attacked on the shoreline of Beggar’s Hole?” I demanded.

“It was her offer, not my request,” the harpy spat. “Like with the ice dragons.”

I knew it!
If only I had realized that the ice dragons were a threat when the harpies had first attacked me, and later attacked Nell, I would have realized then what had happened. But their people had been a quiet—albeit surly—battlefront for my entire lifetime.

“What did you barter with the ice people?” I asked, dragging her body across the wet sand. Her wings flailed and her eyes rolled as she thrashed against my grip, and her shriveled arms swung toward me.

The harpy narrowed her beady black eyes at me. “The prince came to us,” she sneered. “He had seen you in his talisman: the shard of magical mirror procured from your castle’s floor. The deal he wished to strike was simple. We were to watch you, and, if we had the opportunity, we were to attack you, to distract you, but to never incite you to return to The Hearthlands. Or shall I say… Everwinter?” Her bird mouth grinned. “We saw you ascend the balcony of your mate’s home, and began to watch her, too… your mate, who offered up her young to me.”

“Perhaps she tricked you, harpy; don’t be coy and pretend that you are unfamiliar with treachery. Even if she did not trick you… I can assure you that, no matter what her promise, you will both need to fight me in order to take my firstborn into your nest.” I breathed out a plume of smoke into her face and she cawed. ”What was your end of the bargain with the ice prince… or did you agree for free, for the sheer delight of murdering a man?”

“My people—we are called ‘the snatchers,’” she reminded me acidly. “We strip clean, spoil, and torment. It is a joy to us. In spite of this, we have our own small pleasures. Great altitude. Rocky terrain. Heavy snowfall. For this reason, we chose Thundercliff as the settlement of our nest. We have seldom traversed this portal, for its winged creatures are large and often unkind. The ice dragons made a pact that this would no longer be so. They would respect us, and grant us usage of the great mountains which lie to the north of your country—or what used to be your country.”

“And you believed him, did you? Perhaps your people should not be titled ‘the snatchers,’ but ‘the tragically gullible.’ Do you know nothing of the ice dragons? Their words are meaningless. A pact with an ice dragon is as good as a pact with the devil.”

“You lie!” Parnassia hissed.

“Yet you admitted to me that the ice dragons have not returned to your territory since the deal was struck. In spite of the obvious benefits a relationship with the harpies of Beggar’s Hole could have provided them.”

The harpy wriggled out from under me, and I relaxed my claws, allowing her to thrash and flail to a stand. Though her eyes were heavy with bitterness, it was obvious that she was no threat, and might become a temporary ally. After all—she knew where Nell was. She had been the last creature to interact with my wife. Perhaps it would behoove me to show the harpy some kindness. This was the difference between an ice and a fire dragon, elements aside. I would not threaten her. It was one of the reasons that the fire kingdom had endured so long; we were capable of maintaining relations with the neighboring countries.

“Are you being sarcastic?” Parnassia sneered, fluffing her wings to dry them in the breeze coming off the ocean.

“Of course not,” I replied. “Do the ice dragons not know the worth of the portal in Beggar’s Lake?”

Parnassia narrowed her eyes. “They must,” she hissed. “It is the wonder of our world. There is no other portal in existence which mirrors it.”

“The ice dragons, you may find, are not the most studious or attentive of breeds,” I said. “To be honest, I am surprised that they were aware you inhabited the zone they call Maine.”

I stared at her contemplatively as the sun rose behind us, illuminating the distant horizon, blue with ocean, white with the snow of Everwinter. The unique portal which rested in the vortex of Beggar’s Lake—some distance away from the rocky islet portal that led to The Hearthlands— was a mystery and a marvel to the people of our world as it was a mystery and a marvel to the people of Earth. Where they saw that the whirlpool ingested boats, and swimmers, and anything which drifted too close to the undertow, we saw the mystical gate into which such things were pulled… and from whence they could never return.

It was a portal the likes of which we had never before seen. A portal which only opened from one direction. A portal to a dimension with no exits.

And I considered for the first time since discovering the insurgence of the ice dragons that perhaps my arrival in Beggar’s Hole had been fate after all, and the oracle, Pythia, had been right.

Perhaps my arrival in Beggar’s Hole had had nothing to do with Penelope O’Hara.

A
s a show of good faith
, I shifted from dragon to man in front of Parnassia, and even bowed my head to her, becoming the most vulnerable I could possibly be without getting on my knees. She could never kill me—even in human form, it would be a fair fight between us, considering my strength—but I did not want her to be intimidated. Much like the birds of Earth, harpies were defensive and skittish. I wanted to gain her trust.

“My fair Parnassia,” I began, “might I consort with you, as the ice dragons and my own wife have now done?”

I glanced up to gauge her reaction. She raised her chin and eyed me with shrewdness.

“These deals have not repaid me in kind, Theon,” Parnassia sneered. “They are poor examples for you to choose. You have led me to doubt the authenticity of the ice prince, as well as the authenticity of your human mate.”

“I apologize for their shadiness,” I said. “In all fairness, I believe it would have been sharp of you to see your end of the bargain before agreeing to it. After all, there were no nests prepared for you on the mountains of Everwinter. There was no child awaiting you in the womb of my beloved—at least, none of which you have any evidence. It was all promises. But I can give you something which is solid. You can see it right now. You can touch it right now.”

The harpy glowered at me. “Oh?”

“Come to where I have set up camp; in my satchel, I have some items both useful and fantastic from which you may choose. For one of these items, Parnassia, I’d like a favor in return: help me to infiltrate the Everwinter palace one more time. The prince—who has been made king now—will remember and welcome you through the gates. Harbor me in secret, stowed away, and I will give you treasures. Treasures of my people. Treasures from the oracle, Pythia.”

It was the mention of Pythia’s name which brought Parnassia’s wandering eyes to swivel and snap back onto me. “Pythia? The oracle of Thundercliff?”

I supposed it was ignorant of me to assume that the harpies would not be acquainted with the oracle who inhabited their mountain. I had heard her call, even from the Pacific island.

“Yes,” I answered, uncertain of how exactly to proceed. I gestured Parnassia forward, and we picked our way across the camp, filled with slumbering fire dragons. They would rise soon to greet the dawn, and I hoped to have the harpy removed from their sight by then. “Do you know her?”

“She is revered by my sisters and me,” Parnassia confessed. “She needs barter nothing for our aid.”

Perfect.
“When I saw her, before I began my quest to retake my home country, she gave me three gifts to help along the way. The first, a bottle which, when filled, would evolve into a poisonous and unstable concoction, destroyed itself some days ago. But the second, a key which was forged by fate itself—according to Pythia—resides in my satchel still.” I stooped at the large leather satchel. Many items remained from the duration of my quest—blue suede moccasins and light wool and linen clothing from my venture to Beggar’s Hole, where I met Nell and first became entranced—and the love letter and skeleton key given to me by Pythia. “Here,” I said, pulling out the skeleton key for the harpy to inspect.

She cocked her head and glared into the bag. “You said three.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said Pythia gave you three gifts,” she said. “Where is the third?”

“Ah.” I gazed down into the satchel at the papyrus. “That one, good lady, must be mine to keep. I need it still. It is a letter to open communication with a loved one across any distance, small or great… and if you took my wife and left her in Everwinter, I will surely need it soon, to inform her that I am on my way.”

A rustling within one tent reminded me that I didn’t have much time. Soon, this transaction would be witnessed by the entire remainder of fighting fire dragons, and I didn’t know if I truly desired for everyone, from my mother to the court priest, to be aware of my dealings with a harpy. Many fire dragons would be too proud to carry out such an exchange: perhaps the greatest weakness of my people. Perhaps our purity had made us a touch too righteous from time to time.

But true love had a funny way of humbling a big man.

“Parnassia…” I looked from her to the tents and back, and the shift of my eyes did not escape her. Parnassia certainly did not want to be caught here either. As much as the fire dragons would judge me for this dealing, they would also likely wish to apprehend her. A roasted harpy would be considered, during times of glory, a peasant’s banquet… but right now, we were all peasants. “Time is of the essence. Do we have a deal, or not?”

Her eyes flitted from the key—which would likely be elevated to the position of a fetish amongst her sisters—to my own eyes, and she sighed, annoyed. “Deal,” she snapped, fluttering her wings and lifting off of the sand in an attempt to snatch the key with her clawed foot. I held it away from her and shook my head, clicking my tongue.

“After I have been taken to the castle safely,” I replied.

She glared, but didn’t protest. She’d be a fool to argue that harpies had a track record of integrity. “And how am I going to sneak you into the castle, then?” she asked sourly. “I’m large, but so are you.”

I grimaced. “I’ll need to curl up into a ball,” I said. “And you’ll need to carry the satchel on your back.”

As the sun came over the ocean and made it sparkle, I wrapped myself in clothing, climbed into the satchel and closed it over my head, everything going dark. Next, I felt the leather confines lift off of the ground and heard the steady beat of massive wings, jostling me back and forth, bearing onward to Everwinter.