Dragonborn (The Jade Lee Romantic Fantasies, Book 1) (44 page)

He shifted his gaze to the left, watched another soldier move toward him. He had to keep them both in sight: the one about to trip the trap, and the one about to discover his hiding place. And he had to do all this without moving, without even breathing. He had to blend in with the bush. Become the bush. Stay frozen and—

Snap! The tripwire was pulled. Which tugged on the support rock, which then rolled away, which then released three long hours worth of work piling big rocks. All were tumbling down.

Amia was with him. The front soldier had felt the vine give and called out. There was a general scramble, a chaos during which Kiril leaped free of the damn thornbush, quickly knocking unconscious the startled young man barely a wispan away from him, and then Kiril ran as fast as he could, praying he looked like just another soldier fleeing the rockslide.

Hallelujah, it worked! And he was running in the direction he guessed the Emperor would be located. Sure enough, he soon came upon a group of tethered mounts, a single campfire, two big ugly tents, and one smaller red tent behind. That was probably the Emperor's, since red was his color and there were nearly a dozen more soldiers parked in front.

Kiril took precious moments scanning the area, listened for others escaping the rockslide like himself. None? Good. That meant it was time to thin the Emperor's protection.

Moving uphill, he scrambled loudly down again toward the mounts, bellowing all the way. "Docs! And extra hands! Now!" He made sure to stay blocked from view in the darkness, a simple shadowy shape and form; then he disturbed the beasts, quickly picking one out and slapping its flank. "There's been an accident. This way!" Then he leapt on the mount and started riding it uphill.

When it neared a tree, he jumped off. Thankfully the Emperor had picked a spot with lots of cover. Kiril hoped that the soldiers didn't see his dismount, and would follow the horse uphill while he sneaked back down.

It worked. Less than a beat later, he had soldiers and medics scrambling onto the remaining mounts, riding off with all speed straight up the mountainside. His story was corroborated by other cries for help as more soldiers who'd been trapped in the rockslide appeared. Then, in another stroke of excellent fortune, someone uphill found his pit trap, falling with a maximum of noise while his buddies began cursing with a fervor that made Kiril smile. Especially since the two remaining guards of the Emperor had their eyes trained on the horizon, wondering just what was going on. Which left their backs vulnerable. A couple of beats later, the Emperor was minus his guards, and Kiril was free to slip inside that bright red tent.

He took the time to be careful, despite knowing it wouldn't make much difference. The Emperor had over a hundred cycles of fighting experience; he wasn't likely to be surprised, even if he was absorbed in the dragon fight above.

Kiril paused, listening closely for any noise before entering. He heard nothing except the harsh inhales and exhales of an angry Emperor. Glancing up at the sky, Kiril prayed the Copper was having a tough time besting the Queen. Unfortunately, all he could see were the darkened silhouettes of trees along a mountainous landscape. So he turned his attention to his task, slipping quickly inside the Emperor's tent.

The man was quick; that was for sure. By the time Kiril cleared the tent flap, the Emperor had his sword in hand and was already bearing down. But Kiril could tell from a lifetime's experience that Dag Racho's mind was on his dragon, not on the situation here.

All the better for Kiril.

Except, even with only half a mind on his attack, Dag Racho was still the finest swordsman Kiril had ever encountered. Even if he hadn't had the skill, he had a dragon's strength behind his every swing. One good blow and Kiril would be cut in half. Add to that the uncertain footing inside this pillow-strewn tent, and Kiril was in for the fight of his life.

He winced as the clashing of their swords rang loudly in the confined space. If any of the remaining soldiers heard, they would be tearing in here, and that would be the end of everything. Try as he might, Kiril could not best the Emperor.

What he did do, however, was draw more and more of the man's attention into this swordfight. That was something, at least. Though it spelled bad things for Kiril—since with more attention, the Emperor's fighting ability got better and better—it meant more freedom for the Copper to defer to his Queen and give Natiya a chance.

Kiril threw himself into the fight with renewed vigor, imagining each swing, each parry, each thrust as one more moment where Dag Racho had to be in his human body and not assisting the Copper. He managed to maneuver the Emperor around a table, backing him into the tent corner. But while Kiril was struggling to avoid tripping over a chair, the Emperor slashed out of the tent, and they were soon fighting half in, half outside.

Bad. Very, very bad. Because Kiril remained inside while Dag Racho had more room to maneuver. And if he pushed free of the tent, then the Emperor would have an open attack.

Kiril poured on the power, a furious flurry he hoped would press the Emperor back. No such luck. Racho had found a position and defended it, his mind on his Copper while waiting for Kiril to pursue. As soon as Kiril tried to push through the tent rip, he would strike a quick end to this distraction.

Just then, blistering heat ripped through the air. Even in the tent, Kiril felt the impact. Only as he was dropping to his knees did he realize he'd been hearing the beat of dragon wings for a while now. The fight must have come closer. Close enough for a fire plume to set the Emperor's tent on fire. And Kiril was trapped inside the inferno.

* * *

Natiya flinched as the Copper's breath set fire to a red tent. The sight was confusing to her, since it was filtered through the Queen's vision, but even so it made less sense than usual. The Copper hadn't even been aiming for the Queen, but had abruptly turned his head and blasted fire at something on the ground. Strangely, it looked like he had been aiming at Rashad, and that the only reason he missed was because the Queen had taken that moment's distraction to attack, throwing him off.

But why would the Copper blast Rashad? Natiya wondered. It didn't make any sense, especially given how fiercely he was fighting the Queen.

Which had been the other surprise of the night. After Natiya had been absolutely positive—thanks to the Queen—that the Copper would never attack, what had happened? The Copper had gone after the Queen like she was a tasty morsel dangled before a starving man. He had zipped through the clouds like an arrow, shooting flame that singed the Queen's wings less than a beat before he tried to lock his massive jaws around her neck. And while they were still above ocean, no less.

Natiya had been surprised by the attack, but not immobilized. After all, how often did life go as predicted? But the Queen's shock had blasted through Natiya's mind like the scream of a frightened child, and suddenly Natiya fought not just to survive the attack, but to calm the confusion that raged in her dragon's mind. Together they must do what they could to survive.

Except that, even together, they were both really bad fighters. Teeth, claw, fire and wing—all flailed to little effect, while the Copper kept up a coordinated and devastating attack. Natiya and the Queen were going to lose badly. They were going to die.

Natiya had little choice but to take over. Usually she allowed the Queen autonomy over her body, but this was an extraordinary situation and the Queen was completely inept. So, with little understanding of aerial combat or even the mechanics of flight, Natiya began issuing orders. The first being: run! Or in this case, fly! Toward land.

At least over land, they wouldn't have to worry about drowning. Just being impaled upon the trees. Much better.

Thankfully, the Queen responded, and Natiya hadn't needed to actually force wing and claw to move. She felt the bite of pain as the Copper's claws raked across the Queen's still young—and therefore little-armored—back and tail, but they were escaping, because that was the one thing the Queen had developed over the last few days: speed. D'greth, the creature loved to fly—hard and fast, without hesitation—and she did so now while Natiya tried to regroup.

Which was when the first inconsistency occurred.

The Copper didn't pursue. Not at first. He simply hung in the air watching, or so it seemed by the time Natiya and the Queen dared risk a glance backward.

Then the respite was over. As soon as the Queen slowed, spinning in the air to get a better view of the Copper, he abruptly attacked again—in halting, jerking movements rather than the smooth, devastating assault of earlier. Thankfully, Natiya and the Queen were able to dodge and swerve away.

So it continued, with the Copper being an inelegant, inconstant aggressor, while the Queen dodged and parried, using her smaller size and greater speed to maximum effect—meaning she stayed alive but inflicted no return damage. In fact, for a battle that lasted so long, there seemed very few actual wounds. The Queen rarely connected in any meaningful way, and half the times when the Copper had an advantage, he let it slip away.

It was bizarre in the extreme, but neither Natiya nor the Queen had the time to reason it out. And right there was the main problem: time. Or the lack of it. Because while the two dragons exhausted themselves in the air, the Emperor's squads were making steady progress up the mountainside. Kiril's traps would only slow them so long, and by the time Natiya calmed the Queen enough to return control of the aerial battle to her, soldiers were gripping both of Natiya's arms and dragging her out of a place she couldn't even remember hiding in.

She didn't even put up any resistance. Now she was being firmly escorted down the mountain.

That was when she came back enough to her own thoughts to remember Kiril. She knew what he was doing—or at least what he'd planned. His intention was to kill the Emperor in a swift, surprise attack. But they had been the ones surprised, not Rashad. Which meant Kiril and the Emperor were likely right now fighting for their lives. If Kiril still lived.

Natiya suppressed a quick surge of panic at the thought, reassuring herself that he was an experienced fighter. Surely he could hold his own. But against the Emperor and his bodyguards? Not likely. Which meant—

At that moment the Copper twisted its head, shooting its jet of fire at Rashad but catching the tent instead. Natiya wanted to make the Queen look around, find Kiril, but knew she couldn't risk it. The Queen was busy enough without distractions.

That was when Natiya at last understood the Copper's inconsistencies. She'd thought all along that Rashad seemed at odds with his dragon. The man's strength of will was legendary, but could it be that dragon and man were so at odds that they fought constantly for control? That, whenever Rashad was distracted, the Copper took enough control to stop fighting the Queen?

It was certainly possible. That would explain the Copper's actions: one moment viciously brutal, the next moment hesitant. If Rashad and the Copper had different goals, different agendas, then she would see the Copper's plan in the moments when Rashad was preoccupied. Which meant—

He will not kill his Queen.

Natiya acknowledged the Queen's comment, even as she urged her dragon to pay attention to the fight at hand. Especially as the Copper was rearing up for another attack. Which meant Rashad was in control again, his distraction gone. Which meant Kiril was... She couldn't finish the thought.

She and her escort broke through the trees, at last allowing Natiya to see what was happening with her own eyes. Thankfully, the darkness wasn't a problem. Not only did the soldiers carry firesticks, but the clearing was blazing with firelight—from the tent, from some of the nearby trees, from small brush fires in the ground cover. How odd that she had no fear of the fire—a carryover, perhaps, from the Queen. She was able to remain quite dispassionate when viewing and walking straight into the blaze.

But then she saw a man—Kiril!—fly suddenly out of the side of the burning tent, straight at Rashad's upraised sword. A grazing blow, and Kiril's chest spouted blood. Yet he continued to fight, continued to press his attack, while half the soldiers around her ran bellowing forward. Kiril didn't stand a chance.

Neither, apparently, did the Queen, because at that moment the Copper found his opening. He locked his jaws around the Queen's neck, then angled his claws up and around the top bone of each wing. Belly to belly, they tumbled through the air, the Queen's weight too much for the Copper, especially as her claws raked at his underbelly.

But the Copper hung on, his massive weight bearing the Queen down as they plummeted toward the ground.

Unable to help Kiril, Natiya did what she could to calm her dragon, to find a way out, to... Natiya paused, her thoughts reeling with shock because the Queen wasn't interested in fighting. She wasn't even interested in listening, for a wave of conflicting lust and terror brought Natiya to her knees.

And in that suffocating moment, when awareness connected with understanding, Natiya discovered the truth. This wasn't a fight to the death. This was a fight that preluded copulation. And yet, it couldn't be. The Queen was too young, the Copper too large. It wasn't her time yet, and the Queen would likely be killed.

But, how to stop it? How to prevent the Copper from finishing what he'd begun? Especially as the two wyrms finally crashed to the ground—the Queen taking the brunt of the impact, the Copper landing on top of her with wings spread, belly-horn ready.