dragons breath 01 - stalked by flames (18 page)

I eyed his stomach. It was flat and lined with muscle. If he’d been human I would have been tempted to touch him instead of stab him—but he wasn’t. I’d seen his true form. He only took human shape for convenience. As soon as he left he’d go back to being a big red dragon, a monster capable of killing people. Thinking of him that way helped.

Still, I hesitated. It was a lot easier to attack someone when they were trying to kill you. He kneeled there, waiting for me to hurt him. There was no indication he’d fight back.

The dagger shook in my hand. He saw it and his eyes blazed. Aidan let out a roar, releasing a stream of fire that singed my tank top. It left a hole right where my belly button was located.

“Asshole, I liked this shirt.”

Without thinking, I grabbed his shoulder and shoved the blade into his stomach. He grunted as I slid it into him almost to the hilt. Then I pulled it back out and stepped away. He leaned forward and put his hands on the ground in front of him, breathing through the pain. Blood flowed freely from his wound.

Despite his baiting me and knowing he was a dragon, I felt guilty over what I’d done. I went to my truck and dug through one of my bags for a t-shirt. The black one I found was worn and faded, but clean. I walked back toward Aidan with it.

“Here.” I kneeled down next to him.

He glanced at me. “I will be fine in a few moments.”

“Sure, but I imagine blood loss isn’t much easier among your kind than it is with ours.” I shifted closer and pressed the shirt to his wound. “Let me help.”

He let out a snort. “This isn’t part of the ritual.”

“How many oaths have you sworn to dragon slayers?” I asked.

“None.”

“Then who’s to say what’s the right or wrong way for us to go about this? Now hold the cloth to your stomach as hard as you can,” I ordered. “It will help stem the flow of blood.”

He did as I asked, but only for a few minutes before staggering up to his feet. When he pulled the cloth away, I was surprised to see the blood already congealing around the wound. Dragons really did have speedy healing.

Seeing my expression, Aidan explained. “Our skin can knit back together quickly. It’s the inside that will take a few days. You struck deep.”

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I was just doing what you told me to do.”

“And you did well,” he said, giving me a respectful nod. “I’d worried you’d give it a half-hearted attempt that would not do the oath justice. Now I will not feel as guilty when I return the favor.”

I took a step back, still gripping the dagger. “What do you mean?”

“Not now, but someday when you’re stronger and more resilient.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to take a wound like that and not die from it.” I looked down at his stomach. “At least, not without a working hospital to go to right afterward.”

Last I’d heard on the radio, the medical facilities in Norman were overcapacity and not taking any more patients. That was days ago. Who knew what kind of shape they were in now with no new supplies and limited fuel for their generators?

Aidan gave me an amused look. “If you pass the dragon slayer ritual, your healing abilities will become as strong as mine. I won’t ask for your oath until then.”

“That’s very generous of you,” I said, sarcasm in my voice.

“I’d like my dagger back now.”

I glanced down and realized I was holding it up in front of me. Flipping it around to hilt-first, I gave it back to him. He handed over my shirt. It was covered in blood, but I planned to keep it. Proof that he’d given his oath and had to uphold it.

“Now it’s time to begin your training.”

“But you’re wounded,” I argued.

“There’s still plenty of daylight left and I don’t plan to waste it.”

Chapter 18

Bailey

A sword appeared in Aidan’s hand—from thin air.

“Take this,” he ordered

“Where did that come from?” I asked, frowning at it.

And how in the heck had he produced a three-foot sword from nowhere? It had the same black metal as the dagger he’d let me use earlier. When this blade reflected the sunlight, though, it shined like silver. How strange.

“We are able to keep a few items in
shiggara
,
such as weapons and clothing. I can draw the items out as needed. Dragons have little magic, but accessing
shiggara
is one of the few abilities we gain when we become old enough to shape-shift.”

I took hold of the sword. “So
shiggara
is like a place of stasis where you can store things?”

“You could say that.”

“This is a one-handed blade,” I said, testing its weight. One of my step-brothers collected swords and loved to show me the different ones he got. “Wouldn’t it be better to use a two-handed sword against a dragon?”

Aidan came to my side and guided my arm, showing me how he wanted me to hold it. “The best weapon is the one you can use most effectively. That varies with each person. You will learn how to use them all before selecting the one you prefer. It is to your advantage to be versatile in battle.”

“What about the metal? I’ve never seen anything like this before.” It sort of reminded me of obsidian, except for the deep red veins.

“We call it zaphiriam. The ore can be mined in the mountains there.” Aidan gestured to the south where the peaks rose above the trees. “But it is a long and complicated process to make it into a strong weapon that cannot be burned by dragon fire.”

“Do I get to keep this?” I asked, looking up at him hopefully.

Aidan’s expression turned amused. “You can’t train properly without it. Considering your size, I brought this one just for you.”

Wow. He’d been confident I’d show up. Not that I was complaining if I got a fireproof sword out of the deal. “Okay, what comes first?”

“Strength and muscle memory exercises.” He took hold of my wrist. “Cut the sword forward, then bring it back.”

For the first couple of times, he continued to hold onto me until he was satisfied with my form. There was nothing intimate about it. Aidan was surprisingly professional when he went into instructor mode. I found it easy to cut down, but more difficult to bring the blade back up. The zaphiriam sword wasn’t heavy. My muscles just weren’t used to the maneuver.

“Don’t twist,” he instructed. “Keep the blade straight.”

“Like this?”

He nodded, stepping back. “Now do it a hundred more times.”

I blew out a breath and continued. The sword probably didn’t weigh more than six or seven pounds, but the longer I held it the heavier it felt. My forearm was already tiring before I hit fifty. Such a simple maneuver took a lot more strength than I would have guessed.

“Now, switch to the other hand and do a hundred more,” he said when I’d finished my count.

I glanced over at him where he was leaning against a tree. He’d moved over there while I practiced. His face was a little ashen, probably from blood loss.

“I’m training both hands?” I asked.

“Yes. It would be foolish not to.”

I began the cutting motions again, using my left hand this time. It grew tired faster than my other one had. By seventy I was in pure agony.

He let out a loud sigh. “I can see getting you into shape is going to take longer than expected. You’re as weak as a hatchling.”

“That isn’t funny.” I shot him a dark look. “I was in better shape when I lived on the ranch, but other than jogging a few times a week I haven’t done much since going to college.”

There was no sympathy in his eyes. “I’ve never seen a dragon slayer in worse physical condition. I’m almost embarrassed for your kind and believe me—that’s difficult to say. I’m not particularly fond of slayers.”

“I can see this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful relationship,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

His eyes narrowed, but I ignored him. I forced myself to finish the cuts, pushing past the pain. It irked me that he could think of me as weak. If I was going to commit to being a dragon slayer, then I wanted to be a good one. I’d just have to train harder and prove I could handle it.

“What now?” I asked after I finished.

“Switch back to your right hand and make circles with the tip. Small ones first, then larger, then smaller again. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

I stretched my arm for a minute before beginning. It was a different motion. At first it didn’t seem too bad, but after a couple minutes I began wearing down again.

“Wax on, wax off,” I muttered under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing. You wouldn’t get it.”

My muscles were beginning to burn, but I continued the circles with relentless determination. I could handle this. Aidan would not break me with a couple of simple exercises.

“Explain this wax thing to me,” he demanded.

Ugh, I should have kept my mouth shut.

“It’s from a movie. There’s this young kid who wants to learn martial arts—you know, physical fighting. He convinces this old guy to teach him, but at first all he gets to do is wax cars. Which is basically shining them with cloth by making circles. The kid gets frustrated after a while because he’s not learning any actual fighting moves. Then his instructor shows him how all the waxing was a form of muscle conditioning, and he was learning a defensive move the whole time. That’s sort of what you’re having me do now—except with a weapon instead.”

Aidan was silent for a minute. “Perhaps I should have you bring some of this wax back next time.”

“I’m not shining cars during an apocalypse.”

He stretched his legs. “The world is not ending, it’s simply changing.”

My circles slowed and my arm began to droop. No matter how hard I tried to keep it up, it wouldn’t cooperate. How much time had passed since he had me start?

“I don’t suppose you have water in your
shiggara
, do you?” Sweat poured off me and my mouth felt completely dry.

“Switch to your other arm. When you finish practicing the circles, I will give you water.”

The damn tyrant—didn’t he feel how hot it was outside? I desperately wanted water right then, but I didn’t argue. Something told me no amount of begging would help and might make me look that much weaker in his eyes. I switched arms and started the circles again.

“How old were you when you began training with a sword?” I asked.

“My cousin, Donar, and I began secretly practicing together when we were fourteen. It wasn’t until we were twenty that we began training in earnest.”

I worked the sword into bigger circles. “Why bother? Wouldn’t it be better just to fight in your dragon form?”

“Our ability to shift begins between age seven to ten, but it isn’t until we are fully grown around twenty-five that we gain full control of both forms and master the ability to fly. Until then, we’re more vulnerable and must learn to fight by all methods to survive. It is also useful to keep up our sword training when we’re older in case we are caught out in our human bodies and cannot shift in time.”

“Wait.” I shifted my stance so that I could see him better. “How long do your kind live? And how old are you?”

Amusement lit in his eyes. “I’ve lived for two hundred and fifteen years and I’m considered young among my race. There are some in my clan who were born more than a millennium ago. The oldest I’ve known didn’t pass until he was sixteen hundred years old. The pure dragons can live even longer.”

“Huh. I can’t imagine living that long.” I dragged my left arm back up where it had been sinking. Listening to him had distracted me.

“If you pass the slayer ritual, you won’t age anymore.”

I dropped my sword arm. “What?”

“The only method of death left to you will be in battle.” He gave me a pointed look. “Get your arm back up.”

I started the circles again. “How long does the average slayer live?”

“Few make it past thirty, but the oldest I’ve known made it to sixty.” Aidan shrugged. “He was feared by all dragons. It took four of us to kill him.”

“You helped?” I glared at him.

“He killed one of my uncles. Of course, I helped.”

I supposed I couldn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t exactly comfort me to know I was being trained by a guy who had killed one of my kind.

“You have my oath I will not do the same to you—as long as you hold your end of our bargain.”

“I’ll probably still die young,” I said, sadness weighing me down. My arm grew so weak I couldn’t keep it up high anymore. Was I doomed before I even started?

“This is true,” Aidan agreed. “But at least you’ll die in battle. It is the best kind of death.”

“Well, that’s a comfort.”

“You can stop now.” He came toward me, holding a canteen of water.

I traded the sword for it and took several gulps. The water was clean and surprisingly cool. I slowed my drinking down, not wanting to make myself sick. When I was done Aidan took the canteen back from me. It disappeared a moment after it reached his hands—off to
shiggara
.

“Now we will work on your stance. Put your feet shoulder-width apart and then bring your right leg back.” He demonstrated how to do it.

I followed his directions. “Okay.”

“This is a basic stance. You must always keep your body positioned so that you can’t easily lose your balance or be knocked over. Unless you’re thrusting forward, try to keep your steps small.” He showed me examples of basic footwork.

I copied him, moving as best I could in the same way. It didn’t come easily. For a few minutes I practiced with him guiding me. Once he thought I had it he stepped back. It came as a complete surprise when he leaped forward and pushed me. I hit the ground with a thud.

“What the hell did you do that for?” I asked, glaring at him.

“At any given time, expect me to test your balance. You need to be prepared so that I can’t easily push you over. Take every step as if I may try knocking you over as you do it.”

I got up and dusted myself off. “Isn’t that technically harming me?”