Sorcha's Heart (12 page)

She smiled, her eyelids drowsing closed. “As often as you are able,” she murmured.

He hugged her tightly. “Then I shall work to increase my stamina. This new body may not be able to fly, but it has definite advantages.”

Epilogue

Sorcha raced into the king’s study and grabbed Caedyrn’s hand.

“
Excuse me, Sire.” She bobbed a sketchy curtsey to the King and pulled Caedyrn away from the chessboard. “You’ve closed your link again,” she scolded as she pushed, pulled and shoved him into the corridor. “It’s time! Our clutch is hatching.”

Caedyrn roared with delight, picked up his wife and swung her in a wide circle, much to the amusement of passing courtiers.

“
Not here,” she cried, trying and failing to suppress a giggle. “We’ve got to get to our chamber!”

The pair fairly flew along the hall, up the stairs and into their private chamber where they collapsed in a frantic heap on the bed.

Caedyrn pulled her securely into his arms and they opened their link as wide as possible to the flight of dragons.

Keeva summoned the flight, her excitement palpable. “It’s time! They’re hatching! Caedyrn and Sorcha’s clutch, they’re hatching!”

Even the Rex forgot his dignity in his rush to be present at the momentous event. Every dragon who could squeezed into the lair to witness the emergence of the legendary couple’s hatchlings. Sorcha recognized Morna pressed tightly beside Goban. Oona pushed to the front with scarlet Toal close behind. Nuala, Sabia, Heber, Drysta, Etna. All her friends crowded the lair and passageways to greet her children. Keeva and the Rex curled close to the eggs, ready to breathe warm fires of welcome upon their tiny, damp inhabitants.

Sorcha held her breath and squeezed Caedyrn’s arm. Gods and goddesses! What she wouldn’t give to be there to greet her children! Thankfully, the dragon link gave her instant information.

Shells cracked and a blue female emerged, followed by two black males, a red female, a green female, and finally, a small, opalescent male.

The flight breathed a sigh of relief, and tears flowed down Sorcha’s cheeks. All six hatchlings appeared healthy and whole. Those in the lair relayed images to the rest of the flight and the aerie rang with celebration.

Pop!

Sorcha held her breath as the Rex straightened upright so fast he cracked his skull on the lair’s ceiling. Keeva drew back in surprise.

Pop. Pop; pop-pop-pop!

Silence blanketed the ice aerie as the flight of dragons received their first view of six naked human infants. Before Sorcha could say ‘gods and goddesses’, all six babies
popped
back to dragonets.

Keeva recovered first. “Well, Sire,” she sighed. “No one said parenthood would be easy.”

At the Rex’s hearty guffaw, the entire flight dissolved in laughter, while Sorcha and Caedyrn stared at each other, too shocked for words.

~The End~

About Debbie Mumford

Debbie Mumford specializes in fantasy and paranormal romance. She loves mythology and is especially fond of Celtic and Native American lore. She writes about faeries and dragons and other fantasy creatures for adults as herself and for tweens and young adults as Deb Logan.

Visit
Debbie Mumford’s Flights of Fantasy
to learn more about her currently available work.

*~*~*

If you enjoyed this novella, you might also consider
,
Dragons' Choice
the first novel in Debbie's
Sorcha's Children
series.

Dragons' Choice

Chapter One

Aislinn paced the edge of the heights, unable to focus on the majesty of the surrounding mountain range. Conflicting desires warred in her soul. Behind her, the community of dragons stirred to life, and her dragon-soul longed to fuse itself to her kin, never to be parted. But the suppressed humanity at her core dared her to leap into the clear, cold sky and soar to a destiny no dragon could attain. The desire, no, the
need
to metamorphose sang in her blood and sizzled in her bones. Her time had come.

She glanced down her long, supple body and admired the sparkle of reflected sunlight on her midnight blue scales. Long years had passed since she, or any of her sibs, had worn human form. She and her brothers and sisters had transformed often in their youth, both here in the ice aerie that housed the flight of dragons and in the castle down in the land of humans where their parents lived. The ability to shapeshift flowed through their essence, and they delighted in startling those around them, whether human or dragon, with unexpected switches.

But this was different. Aislinn had never attempted to put on her human form and remain in it. She ruffled her wings in anticipation.

“Are you certain, little one?”

Keeva’s question echoed through Aislinn’s mind and startled her back to awareness of her surroundings. Her human thoughts had so subjugated her dragon sense, she’d missed the sounds of her surrogate mother’s approach.

“No,” she answered truthfully. “I’m not certain of anything…except the pull within my soul.”

She faltered and gazed out over the jagged peaks of her beloved mountains, seeking solace in their familiar solidity. Humans might consider the mountains cruel and merciless, but to Aislinn, they represented security and peace. The range protected her home, the dragons’ ice aerie. She’d never lived anywhere else.

With a twitch of her barbed tail, she twisted her head to meet Keeva’s level stare.

The mauve dragon had been the first sight to greet Aislinn’s eyes when she’d hatched, twenty long years ago. Keeva and the rex had raised all six of Sorcha and Caedyrn’s children, and the unusual hatchlings had required all the ingenuity the mature dragons could muster. The impossible mixture of dragon and human blood had mutated the entire clutch into shapeshifters.

Aislinn and her siblings had hatched with the in-born ability—one they’d been unable to control until they reached fledgling status. Fledging dragons learned to fly; shape control became a necessary prerequisite.

“We can’t have you popping over to human form a thousand feet in the air,” the rex had warned them.

The desire—no, the
need
to fly had forced Sorcha’s children to gain mastery of their fluid bodies. But always, without exception, their true form, the one in which they spent ninety percent of their time, had been dragon. Now, Aislinn intended to reverse her natural inclination.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Keeva, but I must try.” She lowered her head, stretched her neck toward the mauve female and nuzzled her dragon-mother’s jaw affectionately with her forehead. “Will you give me your blessing, honored one?”

“Of course, Aislinn. My blessing and my love go with you wherever you fly.”

An intense spike of alien emotion stabbed Aislinn’s heart. She longed to throw herself into someone’s arms and weep. Definitely time to fly. Dragon’s didn’t cry—but humans did.

She spread her wings and hurled herself into the bright morning sky.

“Give my love to Sorcha and Caedyrn!”

Keeva’s final thought rang in Aislinn’s mind. Her wings caught the wind, and she arrowed toward the land of men.

“I will,” she answered, “and I will return!”

*~*~*

Sorcha found it difficult to settle to anything today. She’d attempted to concoct a potion to ease King Leofric’s rheumatism, but couldn’t concentrate on the spell’s fiddly details. Something was in the wind. Something momentous approached, and she knew she’d be uneasy until she identified the source of her restlessness.

Snatching a cloak from the peg beside her workroom door, Sorcha flung it around her shoulders and strode toward the courtyard. Perhaps she’d have clearer vision on the battlements.

You’re very twitchy today, my love,
Caedyrn’s deep voice caressed the corners of her mind, and Sorcha smiled without missing a step. Her husband, the man who had given up leadership of the flight of dragons for her love, always knew her moods, even when he judged petitioners in Leofric’s hall.

A change is coming,
she explained.
I can’t tell you what it is, but I know it’s very near. Can you feel it too?

Aye, I can.
Caedyrn’s thought slid effortlessly through her consciousness, but an inkling of unease trailed behind, confirming his awareness.

Sorcha reached the castle wall and climbed to the battlement. A guard observed her ascent, nodded to her when she gained the walkway and continued to patrol his assigned quadrant. Her fingers trailed along sun-warmed stone until she chose a crenellation and leaned against it. Though she gazed across planted fields, Sorcha fixated on her husband’s beloved face. Odd…Caedyrn had worn the form of human male for twenty years now, but she still pictured the magnificent black dragon in her dreams.

She sighed and pushed the memories of her dragon self to the back of her mind. Caedyrn, the man—dark-skinned, well-muscled, with close-cropped hair and eyes like the lake at midnight. A shiver of delight ran down her spine, and she whispered a blessing to the gods and goddesses for the gift of his love. Twenty years of marriage, and the mere thought of him still warmed her blood and provoked a delicious tingle that tightened her nipples. Their love crossed the boundaries of possibility and touched the mundane tasks of daily existence with the mystery of magic.

Sorcha scanned the landscape, but ignored the serene beauty of a countryside at peace. No wars ravaged this pleasant land, due in large part to herself and Caedyrn. She turned her attention to the skies and felt a flutter of anticipation—a tiny winged creature had captured her notice.

A bird, undoubtedly a bird, she told herself, though she strained to see more clearly. An unannounced visitation from a member of the flight was too much to hope for. Dragons kept their own company, rarely visiting the land of men unless called upon to fulfill the terms of the treaty Sorcha and Caedyrn had helped create. Sorcha still considered herself a member of the flight. She had clutched six dragon offspring, but rarely saw one of the magnificent beasts.

The flying speck continued to enlarge, and Sorcha’s heart thundered. Slowly, it evolved into something too large to be a bird. Gripping the stone parapet so hard her knuckles whitened, she opened a link to Caedyrn, all thoughts of his duties in the king’s hall scattered.

I’m judging a fairly complex case at the moment,
he responded to her excited touch.
Can this wait?

A dragon,
she sang into his mind.
Caedyrn, there’s a dragon approaching, and it isn’t one of the usual messengers.

She experienced a flare of anticipation and a mingled whiff of grief, which he quickly masked.

I’ll be right there.

Sorcha scrutinized the soaring dragon, drinking in the flawless beauty of its flight. Her imagination soared, and she relived the exhilaration of wind in her face: eyes protected by nictitating membranes; the stretch of well-conditioned muscles lifting her body, straining against and finally working with the powerful currents in the air; like a fish, delighting in the struggle to move upstream amid invisible currents, defying the flow’s repeated attempts to swamp her efforts.

Gods and goddesses, she missed flying, and she had only worn dragon-form a few months. She could barely imagine Caedyrn’s sense of loss.

He’d forfeited so much for her. Her lover, her husband, the other half of her soul had given up the freedom of the skies to crawl along the earth with her. She understood his sacrifice—she had been a dragon long enough to learn their customs, mate with Caedyrn and clutch his eggs—but her deprivation couldn’t compare to his. He had been born to the skies. A powerful amulet had transformed her.