Burn (Dragon Souls) (2 page)

Dragon whimpers.

Chained to the ground on the other side of the rocks her prize awaited.

The captured dragoness craned her serpentine neck to look up. Its dark purple scales clinked as it quivered.

“I’m coming,” she whispered fiercely.

The wolf inched closer. Teeth snapped. Black claws flexed in anticipation of a meaty kill. The pungent stench wafting from its fur made her eyes water. These weren’t like the beautiful creatures in the human dimension. These beasts evolved to protect themselves from the dragons hunting the land, mutating into a misshapen perversion that frankly sacred the shit out her.

Marina kept up her guard, crouched, spear extended. Their greatest weapon was their frost.

Therefore, I need fire.

The otherness rose.

Energy trilled through her limbs and Marina’s body tensed. Chosen wield magick –Koen Raad told her that. She needed fire, knew the power to summon it was in her blood, but possessed no clue of how to conjure it. Control over the elements had not been part of her eleventh-hour training.

Frowning, shooting a frustrated look at the metal spear tip imagining fire, she felt stupid when nothing happened.

Primal heat ripped through her arm, and the delighting purring of the inner voice filled her ears.

Ripping, burning, slashing, biting.

The spear erupted into a single blue flame the width of the triangular tip.

Excitement at the achievement was fleeting.

She
deserved
some freaking flames.

The jeering crowed quieted then exploded into a roar of encouragement as she swung the blazing spear.

Marina used the lull in attack to slide off the rocks. The left side of her body was bruised and scraped, but she broke no bones as her soft leather boots hit the ground.

The wolves tracked her. They were intelligent, and had adapted to a better formation to bring her down.

She swayed from side to side, her twists quick and wild to watch them all.

You are not prey,
the voice raged.

Sweating under the tension, Marina pretended to focus her attention on the wolf directly in front.

The flanking wolves took the bait. They lunged.

She dropped and rolled.

The wolves slammed into each other, furred bellies stretched as they pranced on powerful hunches, biting and growling, spittle flying.

Adjusting her footing, Marina mirrored her steps with the wolf chomping for her head.

It pounced.

She ducked and jabbed, a single thrust, a deadly extension of her arm.

The spear ripped through the animal’s gullet. Its own momentum pushed the blade deeper until the tip tore through the furry ruff at the back of its head.

The wolf collapsed on top of her.

She gasped.

Its weight was crushing.

“My god, you stink.”

Icy saliva and hot blood dribbled down the spear onto her arm. It burned – scalded her flesh until tears cleaned tracks down her grubby cheeks. It took all her might to push the dead weight off her body and wriggle free.

She rolled onto all fours then pushed onto her feet, bit her tongue to quell a cry of victory.

The remaining two wolves were locked in a furious struggle. It was best to keep them that way.

Limping to the dragoness, Marina dribbled the icy spit from her weapon onto an iron link. Sliding the spear tip through the narrow loop, a sharp twist of her wrist jarred it in such a way the weakened links chaining the dragoness broke.

Grumbling thanks, the dragoness’ tapered snout nudged between her shoulders. Snuffled the sweaty nape of her neck.

Checking the fighting wolves remained distracted, Marina allowed more of her focus to shift. She ran her good hand over the Dragon’s hide checking for injury.

“You’re not a fire breather, are you? Even so I could use your help.” Marina winced when her frost-burned arm ached. “Will you help me?”

The dragoness blinked violet eyes. She lowered her slender neck in invitation.

Using the hump of a foreleg, Marina climbed and settled onto the dragoness’ nape, clinging to rigid back scales for balance with her bad hand. The almost feverish heat rising from the creature’s body was soothing. It reminded her of riding Daniil, although this mount was smaller and less intimidating.

Rocking back then forward as the dragoness stood, Marina took stock of her situation. Her body ached but was in one piece. Her shield was unbroken and slung across her back. Her helm protected her head. She hefted her bloodied spear higher for examination then blanched at the damage the weapon received during the scuffle. Drips of hoarfrost had frozen the wood and turned the solid rod brittle.

“Don’t shatter.” She fixed her gaze on the remaining threat. “Just hold.”

Feeling the fierce determination of her rescuer, the dragoness reared. Bellowing a throaty roar, smoke plumes gushed from between her fangs.

Blowing smoke was all this breed of wild one could do, but it inspired Marina.

The slobbering wolves heeded the ferocious cry and separated. Nostrils flared as they stuck their muzzles in the air and sniffed. Growling and snapping at each other’s sides, they lowered their heads and prowled closer.

Gaze pinging between them, Marina hefted her spear. Unsure which was alpha she hesitated in picking a target.

Howling, the wolves drew further apart and their streaking forms accelerated into dark grey blurs.

Still undecided, breathless with indecision, she pulled back to angle her weapon.

The smaller wolf crouched, snarled, and lunged, sealing its fate.

Marina flung the spear, grunting when her side cramped.

The projectile found its mark. Shattered. Steel pierced the wolf’s furred chest and it dropped mid spring to land solid on its side. Claws scratched the dirt as it howled a death rattle.

The dragoness pounced. She clamped her fangs around the wolf’s neck and with a rough jerk snapped it. She spat gristle and snarled.

Answering cries of congratulations swelled from the crowd above.

The alpha wolf growled. Pack decimated, he was the last standing. He sensed his demise and with nothing to lose turned rabid. Frothing at the mouth, he paced erratically snapping at the dragoness’ underbelly.

Jumping aside to miss impalement on hooked talons, he hunkered down. The rigid tension in his body gave away his next move.

The wolf leapt.

Twisting, Marina swung the shield from across her back to protect her front. Fangs headed for her throat were useless as the beast’s head butted the shield, a hammered round of metal forged in the
dragonfire
of a Phoenix.

Flailing claws dug cruelly into her flesh, drenching the ground in blood as he slid from sight in a daze.

Screeching in pain, Marina let go of the scales anchoring her. She toppled off the dragoness as she tried to stop the gushing slashes on her thigh.

Her head rebounded off the uneven soil. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. She landed mostly on her tattered side and pain lanced her leg, the salted earth stinging the gouges.

Using her good hand, she lifted the shield to guard her vulnerable torso.

Disillusioned, scared out of her wits, she wanted to curl up and cry.

The otherness was disgusted. It bashed at the walls of her mind.
Do not lie here waiting to die. Get up. Let me out, or get up.
Her ears were ringing as it roared and hissed in its effort to take her over.

Gritting her teeth, scared when she tasted blood on her tongue, terrified when the otherness went predator-still in anticipation, Marina hobbled. Hopping on her good leg she kept the other bent at the knee.

The wolf shook off its haze. It rolled about on its back then twisted into its front, but remained low on its belly as it panted and sniffed.

Fresh blood marked her, and he howled his thirst for it as he charged.

Marina distantly heard someone bellow her name.

Feet planted shoulder-width-apart, Marina eased her balance onto her back leg. Warm blood oozed down her front foot. She ignored it.

Timing was everything.

She twisted at the middle when the wolf lunged.

Shrieking her fury, she threw her whole body into the motion of a swing.

The shield smashed into the side of the wolf’s head. The connection jarred Marina’s arms and broke two fingers when the leather strap jerked hard trying to escape her grasp.

Trajectory altered, the wolf sailed past, curled up, and crumpled under the blow.

Dragging her numb leg behind her, Marina steeled herself. She gazed stonily at the dusty heap with something
else
looking out through her eyes.

The otherness purred.

Kill it, or it kills you
.

She used the animal’s injured bewilderment to perch the blunt edge of the shield on the crown of its head. Her arms lifted high then fell hard.
Crunch
. She bludgeoned the wolf until it convulsed then stopped moving altogether.

Awkwardly turning in a slow circle, she glared at the corpses littering the arena. Darkness crept along the edges of her vision.

Still, she relaxed. Nothing else tried to kill her.

Marina spun to the crowd that openly mocked her. Lifting the arm that did not feel afire, she ignored the pain and stuck up a crooked middle finger, shrieking a warrior cry, because she was
so
pissed at them.

The shocked silence of the arena resounded deeply.

Her yell carried until she had gasped hollowly and coughed. Her voice echoed richly off the rocky open-roofed amphitheatre.

The dragoness backed the wail of victory with a roar.

The crowd surged screaming back, chanting her name, and crying out for her. The noise was deafening. It battered the arena walls.

“Oh, so
now
you love me. Fickle bastards.”

Spent adrenaline left Marina shaky. Mouth dry, her stomach rolled queasily. She slumped as the strength left her in a rush.

The dented shield clattered to the floor.

Groaning, she clutched where her hip met thigh. She used the other to gingerly touch the lacerations scored into her flesh. Blood flowed thick through her fingers. What had her swaying feebly was the colour. She stared at her fingertips as the blood darkened to burgundy.

“
How can I have blue blood? Ugh. I’m going to faint
.”

She laughed weakly as the world blurred. The tension eased from her muscles and the ground rushed up to meet her.

K
oen Raad was a dangerous male. Dragon King of the twelfth dynasty, he ruled his domain with an open hand ever ready to clench into an iron fist.

A wild aura gave the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscle defining his body a disquieting edge of animal menace. To stand within his shadow was to know the truth. A beast lurked too close to the surface. It peered from behind emerald green eyes, terrified all who glimpsed its dark hunger. The barest sheen of civility cloaked his true nature.

Koen Raad was a predator surrounded by hapless prey.

Yet he watched in a heart-stopping haze of fury as his Treasure jogged from the bowels of the Red Citadel. She faced a pack of ice wolves wearing nothing but leather moulded to her torso. A helm covered her head and her weapon was of the finest craftsmanship, his, but he was outraged her tender flesh was so badly protected.

He spun, and encountered a bundle of repressed emotion crouched on the seat beside him.

Furious protest died on his lips. He wasn’t the only one who suffered.

Boy was pale. His lips were white with strain, yet the fire banked within his gaze spoke of an unwavering confidence in his adoptive mother.

The adolescent appeared more a princeling each day.

Koen swept a glance over his richly stitched tunic, black leathers, and knee-high boots.

Marina still had not shorn the fat spirals tumbling around his too beautiful face. His Treasure admitted adoring the curls far too much to cut.

Boy smirked when he noticed his King eyeing them with contempt. He would never cut them knowing his Marina loved them so.

The youngling was too pretty by far. The hair just made it worse.

A battle scar or two should fix that,
Koen thought, deciding to singe the hair from Boy’s head the next time he caught the youngling alone while in
dragonskin
.

Despite her obsession with his gold locks, Marina had done well with Boy. There was a scruffy edge to his manner and a roughness to his speech ever naming him as base born, but Koen knew Marina cared less for Boy’s slave origins than she did for what the other Houses thought of her for making him their offspring.

Goddess knew what they would say if they knew the youngling began his life slitting throats his masters placed under his blade. That he had once snuck into the High Princess’ room with the intent of spilling her blood.

There were moments of rage when Koen thought of what this youngling – now
his
offspring – had almost done to his beloved. As much anger as he felt it was always followed by mind-numbing pride that was fatherly and pure.

During the assassination attempt Boy had hesitated, knowing his own miserable life was forfeit the moment he did. He’d shown himself to be great of character and heart.

Each day since Koen had yet to feel shame in the youngling he already treated as his offspring.

Marina may have chosen him alone, but they would raise him together as a Warrior Prince to be feared by Dragon Lord and Battle Mage alike.

The thought made him protective, keen to somehow convey that to the youngling.

Meeting Boy’s eye with what he hoped was encouragement he clapped him on the shoulder. “She will prevail.” His voice was roughed by the Dragon’s growl.

Boy flinched at first contact. He gradually relaxed under the heavy weight of Koen’s palm. “I am not afraid. She would never leave us.”

Nodding in agreement, Pasha perched on a stool behind the youngling.

It was unusual for a woman of her standing to have as much power and influence over nobles of such high station, but Marina treated the older woman has an honorary mother figure.