Dragon Scales (5 page)

But who was 'she'?

"You'll tell me, whether you want to or not," Isaia growled, stalking closer. He stopped a bare foot away from Naldo, who only raised his eyebrows.

"It's just two scales, Isaia. I know you lose more than that in any given week." Naldo smiled. "You give me those, and I'll tell you where she is and stop sending people after you. I knew that flit wouldn't do you any harm, but the next one might."

Amantea bristled but stayed where he was. He could still throw Naldo into a portal, but he wasn't sure he could do it with Isaia there, throwing a huge kink in everything.

"No. You let her go. She has nothing to do with this," Isaia said. He flexed his hands, and his claw-tipped fingers looked particularly deadly to Amantea. Naldo didn't seem to be concerned, however, lifting his chin stubbornly. Before he could reply, however, he started coughing—and kept coughing.

Amantea frowned, wondering what was wrong with him. He kept coughing, and even Isaia frowned. Naldo held up a hand and turned back toward the house. Amantea ducked back, hoping he hadn't been spotted. A moment later, he heard the door shut, and he peeked back out. Naldo was gone, presumably inside the house.

Isaia, however, was staring straight at him, and he looked like he was about to come over and strangle Amantea. Amantea scowled at him, ignoring it when Isaia tried to pantomime that he should leave. He wasn't going to. Naldo was his problem, too, and he wasn't going to leave and simply hope everything worked out.

Naldo didn't immediately reappear, and Amantea wondered if he was trying to make a break for it. Probably not. He'd seemed like he had Isaia right where he wanted him, after all. Amantea shifted forms to his smaller, winged form, tugging off his shirt and tying it around his arm. Then he flew over to where Isaia stood. He wanted to know what Naldo had on Isaia. And if it was as simple as giving Naldo a few dragon scales, why wouldn't he?

"You're not supposed to be here, flit," Isaia said when he got close enough.

"You aren't my mother," Amantea replied. It was weak, but it was the best he had. "Who does he have?"

"What?" Isaia asked, lifting a hand for Amantea to land on. Amantea eschewed it, not wanting to get caged up in Isaia's hands again, and instead went to land on his shoulder. That way, he wouldn't have to shout to be heard.

Isaia tensed when Amantea landed on him, but his shoulders were nice and broad and steady, so Amantea had no trouble finding a perch. He kept an eye on the back door, but Naldo made no signs of reappearing. "He said he had someone of yours."

"How long were you there?" Isaia asked, staring straight forward. At the back door of the cottage.

Amantea didn't answer that, repeating his question. "Who is she?"

"It's not any of your business, flit," Isaia said, but he sounded tired, not angry, that Amantea was asking. "I'll get Naldo to lay off your nest. Just go back there and you'll be fine."

Amantea bristled and stomped his foot on Isaia's shoulder. "I'm not a flit. Stop calling me that. I'm not useless, and I'm not going away until I know it's safe. I—"

The back door opened, and Amantea jumped off Isaia's shoulder, carefully hiding behind Isaia as he flew down to the ground. Hopefully Naldo hadn't seen him, though Amantea didn't suppose it mattered if he did. Amantea didn't have anything to hide. Peeking around Isaia's calf, Amantea stared at Naldo. He looked worse: paler, and there was a sallowness to his face that Amantea hadn't noticed before.

"Where were we?" Naldo asked. Before Isaia could answer, however, Naldo threw up a hand, smiled, and said, "Oh right, the part where I activate the trap." Magic flared, bright blue arcs of energy crackling up from seven points around where Isaia—and Amantea—stood. "It's dragon-proof. I mean, you're welcome to try and break it, but—"

Isaia growled, throwing out a hand. He said something rapidly that Amantea didn't quite catch, and a pulsing yellow orb of energy materialized and careened toward the cage. Amantea blinked rapidly as it shattered into a thousand bright sparks—and then the cage retaliated, snapping a sharp electric crack toward Isaia. It coursed through him and jumped to Amantea. It felt like Amantea had been struck by lightning. Everything hurt, sharp and white, and he couldn't breathe through the pain... and then it was gone, replaced by Naldo's laughter.

Amantea sat up slowly, shaking his head. His arms and legs felt like liquid, and it hurt to take a deep breath, but he seemed whole. Isaia was panting softly, on his knees in front of Amantea.

"There's a rebound effect in place," Naldo said. Isaia hissed. "I can trigger it whenever I want, as well. Will you give me the scales now? Or should I go get your sister and put her in a similar cage?"

"Never," Isaia spat. He didn't even look at Amantea, and Amantea tried not to let that hurt. Isaia didn't owe him anything. Naldo stepped up to the cage, reaching out toward it, and Amantea knew what was coming. Standing, he stumbled the few steps over to where Isaia knelt. He put one hand on Isaia's foot and shut his eyes, activating a portal and hoping, praying, that they weren't about to end up at the bottom of the ocean or in the middle of a volcano.

The portal magic washed over him, soft and reassuring, whisking them away from Naldo's backyard. A short second later, they settled on firm ground, the portal closing behind them. Amantea took a deep breath, ignoring the sharp ache that earned him. They were in a field of tall grass, but that was all Amantea could tell from his position on the ground. Isaia spluttered, standing, but Amantea only slumped down, his head starting to throb. Unanchored portals
hurt,
one of the many reasons they were a poor idea. On top of the shock from the cage, he wanted to curl up in his nest and sleep for a week.

"Where are we?" Isaia asked. Amantea didn't answer. He didn't have an answer. "Shift, flit. I'm not talking to a dragonfly."

"Fuck you," Amantea muttered, pressing his hands to his temples. He didn't know if Isaia heard him or not, but in the next second, the dragon was looming over him. Amantea didn't look up, too tired and hurting to put up any resistance when Isaia picked him up.

"I told you to stay in the house," Isaia said, lifting him so that Amantea could see the scowl on his face.

"Fuck off," Amantea said. His head gave a vicious throb, and he curled forward, burying his face in his hands. It was probably a bad idea to show weakness in front of Isaia, but he couldn't help it. It
hurt
, worse than the only other time he'd ported without anchors to bring him to a specific place. Granted, he
had
only done it once, and he hadn't been zapped by magic beforehand.

Isaia let out a sigh, long and drawn out, and then began walking. He brought his hand in close to his chest, and Amantea didn't question it, just curled up in Isaia's palm and tried not to focus on how every step jarred his head and the ache in his chest. At some point, despite the pain and unpleasant movement, he dozed off.

It was dark when he woke. His head felt like he'd spent the previous night drinking elinflower elixir, but he was warm and comfortable otherwise. A fire crackled nearby, and he could hear the soft sounds of nightbugs flying overhead. Yawning, his stomach rumbling a complaint that he hadn't eaten in… ages… Amantea shuffled around until he was sitting up.

He'd been asleep in a pile of silk. It had been piled and looped and tucked to make a cozy little depression for him to sleep in. Amantea blinked, then glanced around. Isaia was in dragon form on the other side of the fire. He seemed to be asleep, if the soft, purring snores were any indication. The noise was cute, but Amantea valued his life so he'd probably keep that to himself. They were beneath the shelter of some tree branches, but that was all Amantea could tell about their surroundings in his smaller form and given how dark it was.

Amantea stretched his wings experimentally. They seemed fine, thankfully. The ache in his chest was gone, and his arms and legs no longer felt like jelly. His head still hurt, but it was a much-dulled ache compared to earlier, after he'd ported Isaia and himself out of Naldo's trap.

Further investigation of the little silk nest turned up a small pile of berries and nuts. Nothing Amantea recognized, but they smelled right, so he started eating slowly. He didn't try to think about all the problems he had. He was safe and, discounting the headache, whole. He could port them... somewhere in the morning, and figure things out then.

Amantea watched Isaia curiously as he ate, finally noticing that Isaia wasn't in the dragon form he'd been in when Amantea had caught him in the jar. He definitely had wings folded against his side, and Amantea could just see the shadows of three horns jutting from Isaia's head.

How many forms did dragons have? Three? Or could they shift to as many forms as they liked? Would Isaia tell him if he asked? Amantea finished his fruit, licking his fingers clean. Sighing in contentment, he nestled back into the silk nest and dozed back off, thoughts of handsome red dragons chasing him into dreams.

Isaia's movements woke Amantea next, and a quick glance proved it was after dawn. Stretching, Amantea sat up and stared at Isaia. He was huge; he seemed bigger than he had in his other dragon form. Amantea was certain that wasn't simply because of his own smaller size. Isaia flexed his wings, stretching out the huge, long, leathery appendages before tucking them close.

Then he started to shift. It was a slow process and looked laborious as bits shifted and compressed and folded. Amantea was triply glad that his shifting was so much quicker. Finally, Isaia was in his extremely naked, smaller form again, and it suddenly occurred to Amantea where the silk nest he'd been sleeping in had come from.

Scrambling out of it, Amantea shifted to his larger form. It would be easier to talk to Isaia that way, plus he'd have to be larger-sized to set up the portal to wherever they decided to go. Once the shift was done, Amantea unwrapped the shirt tied around his arm and pulled it on. He'd lost his cap at some point, and he tried to flatten the mess of his hair with his fingers, but he was fairly certain he only succeeded at making it worse.

Isaia approached, retrieving his scarf, and Amantea stared resolutely at the nearby trees as he tied it in place around his hips. "Are you better, flit?"

Amantea bristled, shooting Isaia a dark look. He wasn't a flit.

"Amantea," Isaia said, and Amantea wanted him to go back to calling him a flit. Something about the way Isaia said his name was unsettling.

"I'm fine," Amantea said. He hesitated, peeking at Isaia. "Are you?"

Isaia nodded. "Where are we?"

"I don't know," Amantea said. His head throbbed, as though suddenly reminded that Amantea had done portal magic without an anchor. He gave up standing, sitting down on a patch of dirt near the burnt-out fire. "But I can port us..." Amantea waved a hand to signify 'anywhere'.

"Can you port me back to Naldo's home and port you home?" Isaia asked. He didn't sit, and Amantea glared at him. Apparently Isaia didn't understand that Amantea wasn't going to go home.

"What does Naldo want dragon scales for?" Amantea asked, countering Isaia's question with a more important question.

"I don't know," Isaia said. He scowled, but the expression slipped away almost immediately. "For nothing good, I'm sure. There are plenty of spells he could cast on me with them."

"Is that why he won't take them from your sister?" Amantea asked. "Because he needs yours, specifically?"

Isaia nodded. "It's a personal squabble. I'm sorry you were involved, but I will make sure he leaves your nest alone."

"And I'll be there to confirm that," Amantea said firmly. He smiled sweetly at Isaia. He held the cards here; without him, Isaia was stuck in an unfamiliar place until he managed to find someone to tell him how to get home. Even then, there was every chance that they were days or weeks or
months
from home.

"No," Isaia said. "It's too dangerous. You were already hurt—"

"Because you locked me up and ruined my plan—"

"Was it as good a plan as trapping me?" Isaia's eyebrows rose, and Amantea wanted to hit him.

"Fuck you, you weren't supposed to break free—"

"You're too young, and I don't need Naldo having more leverage against me," Isaia said. He was looming over Amantea, but Amantea ignored that. He wasn't stupid. If Isaia wanted to get to Naldo, he'd need Amantea's porting magic.

"You don't know where he's keeping your sister?" Amantea asked, though if Isaia did know, he would have rescued her, wouldn't he have? If they could find her, that would let them take Naldo out without any loose ends.

"No." Isaia grit his teeth. "Whatever you're thinking, no."

"You don't know anything about where she is?" If he had even one landmark and maybe something of hers to cement the link, there was the chance he could make a portal to where she was. He'd never done it before, but some of the older faeries in his nest had, and it shouldn't be too different from a normal portal.

"He said she was near that lake," Isaia ground out. "Why?"

"Do you have something of hers?"

"At my home.
Why
?" Isaia looked to be running out of patience, but Amantea persisted. If Isaia was allowed to be infuriating to him, he was allowed to return the favor.

"I don't know if it would work," Amantea said. "But I might be able to make a portal to where she is."

Isaia stared at him, his expression not changing, which... wasn't the reaction Amantea had hoped for. "You can do that."

"Maybe? I've never ported on so little, but in theory—"

"What if it doesn't work? Do we end up nowhere again?" Isaia demanded, jerking his arm around to point to their surroundings.

"No," Amantea said quietly. "It just doesn't work. We go nowhere."

Isaia narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want for it?"

"What?" Amantea gaped. "Nothing! No, wait." Amantea stood up. He was still shorter than Isaia, but it was less distance to stare up at him from. "I want you to take me seriously and let me help you stop Naldo."

Isaia stared at him, then nodded. "Done. Thank you." He shifted, looking uncomfortable. Was that the first time he'd ever thanked someone?