Emma (Dark Fire) (3 page)

He shoved the thought aside and pulled harder on his inborn talent. Dorcha energy surged through his body. His dual nature responded, happy to shed his civil outer shell.

An avalanche of animalistic fury flooded his soul, pushing at the chains of civilized behavior. For a split-instant, he struggled between polite prince and the raging menace that was dragon; the dangerous part of his essence, a part that Tyler had chained since birth.

The dragon half of his soul fought for dominance, a cold-hearted creature that could destroy the entire forest in a fit of wrath. He eased the tight grip he held on the chains surrounding his dragon half and focused, pushing his willpower into the surging energy that flowed through his body. Retaining his human shape, his golden skin tingled, morphing into tiny black scales that rippled across his entire length. In the blink of an eye, he shifted into wér-dragon.

Black scaled, his wér shape grew taller, adding pure muscle and mass. Fingernails lengthened and turned black, growing into deadly talons. Silky hair touched his shoulders. Pitch-black horns sprouted through cropped hair, curling above his head. His clothes, weaved with strands of energy laced faerie fiber, shrank into a thin, twisted bracelet wrapped snuggly around his wrist.

He threw back his head and roared. Guttural and deep, the sound thundered through the trees, warning every living being within hearing to hide from him, warning them to escape if they could, to run if they thought they had any chance of escaping him.

Rushing forward, the forest flashed past him. Another scent hit him. Fury enveloped him as the breeze brought him the smell of a specific vampire, a filthy leech familiar with hurting others. Distaste and unease colored his thoughts.

His roar intensified, growing guttural, reflecting a fury born of pain and memories. “Lester,” he snarled through clenched teeth, eyes searching the undergrowth. The one filthy parasite he detested above all others. Lester’s involvement hadn’t been proven, but Tyler knew the boy was responsible for an attack years before, an underhanded attack that killed several, including Marcus, Tyler’s older brother.

He roared a challenge into the silent forest.

A flash of movement to his right was all the warning he got. A girl, with long, black hair darted behind several bushes. He paused, and nearly called out a warning. For an instant, he thought the girl was his sister, Lily.

A breeze swirled around him. The sickly sweet aroma of rotting flesh hit him. The foul, evil scent of corruption and death burned his nose. The sickening smell was a putrid odor he never forgot, a disgusting smell that surrounded zombies, creatures created by Wormwood’s native witches and wizards.

Birds stopped singing.

Swinging his head to the left, he inhaled rot.

He didn’t wait long. A zombie charged him, bursting through the thick growth of trees. The creature, a male dressed in homespun trousers and a twisted multi-colored sash, swung at him. Black hair, clumped with dirt and twigs, swung around wide shoulders.

In a quick move, Tyler crouched, avoiding the crushing blow.

Unable to keep its balance, the dead man stumbled. Hitting the ground, the re-animated elf curled its lips in a snarl. The zombie jerked to its knees. Throwing its arms wide the dead creature tried to clip Tyler with a backhanded swing.

Tyler snorted and easily skipped out of the way. He didn’t need a crushed kneecap.

Once changed, zombies retained their strength. Even worse, they didn’t feel pain. The only good thing about a zombie was the inability for a re-animated shape shifter to change shape.

Gnashing its teeth together, the zombie snarled. Film-covered eyes glared at Tyler, reflecting its master’s hatred. Lurching upright, the creature charged Tyler, completely focused on killing him.

Tyler moved to the side, easily avoiding the slow moving creature. As slow and clumsy as the zombie was, the re-animation process had to be a quickie job. Faster, stronger zombies took at least a week for a wizard to create. A zombie as sluggish as the creature in front of him had to be a single night creation, one made in haste.

The creature stumbled over a bush. Falling, the dead man floundered on the ground.

Tyler’s upper lip curled in revulsion, hating wizards and the evil they spawned. Darting forward, he slashed the big elf’s spine in half.

The zombie collapsed, dropping to the ground like a toppled tree. Rot-speckled hands clawed the ground, seeking purchase, trying to stand. The dead creature howled, but made no distinguishable words. Zombies had no human thoughts, brain dead except for the orders given to it by its master. Nothing of who the zombie was before death remained, not after a witch or wizard drained the victim’s life force.

In growing anger, Tyler snarled. Bloody Southerners were creating zombies in Alliance territory, killing innocent elves - and who knew what other races - within the Alliance.

Striding forward, he slashed his claws across the back of the zombie’s exposed neck. He slashed again and the head tumbled to the side.

Glaring at the decapitated body, his anger burned brighter. From the dead elf’s dark brown clothes and green-on-yellow sash, the man had been a farmer, one with a mate. The moment the wizard finished sucking the life force out of the elf, the mate would’ve died as well.

As wér-dragon, it was Tyler’s place to protect the innocent races within the Alliance. Failure burned through him, making him feel sick.

Above him, a twig snapped. Ducking to the side, he slashed upward with his claws, hitting a vampire as it dropped out of the trees.

Bernie, a skinny-butt vampire, dropped to the ground, howling in pain. The pimply faced teen rolled on the ground spilling blood from five long slashes across his stomach. The wailing bloodsucker, a fourth-year student and one of Lester’s bullyboys, scuttled backward, trying to escape Tyler’s growl of fury.

Tyler trotted around the blubbering teen.

Ugh, he hated vampires, but he couldn’t kill Bernie without good reason. True, the vampire had been working with a zombie and had attacked him, but neither action warranted death. Killing with justification was one thing, but without a darn good reason, Tyler would end-up in front of the council explaining his actions.

He ached with burning desire to hunt the wizard that created the zombie. He wanted the filthy creature dead. Between vampires and a wizard, the spell caster was the worst enemy. Vampires might be blood hungry, but they were a part of nature, same as other races.

Witches and wizards were not natural. Twisted and evil, the parasites were not content with the small amount of dorcha energy they were born with.

The natural, internal energy was enough for a wizard to stay youthful and healthy, but not enough to caste spells. That was the problem; the lack of power was why they became true leeches. They lived off other people’s life force, using the stolen power to fuel spells that destroyed nature.

A few weeks earlier, the presence of Southerners in the area would have been normal, because vampires, witches, and wizards attended Academy, but not now.

Late spring break started the previous week. The break would last a full month, and by Academy rule, the sprawling star-shaped complex housing the school and dormitories should be empty of students and instructors between terms.

The school was the largest conservatory of knowledge on Tuatha. From the very beginning, Academy remained a neutral place that welcomed any person, of any race, providing the best education available.

Tyler had never agreed with allowing the dangerous Southern teens to attend. He believed having blood hungry vampires around the school was too risky for the weaker Alliance races. A Southerner, whether vampire or wizard, could easily kill a nymph, harpy or any single one of the weaker races.

He smiled, baring his sharp teeth; cold and harsh as a northern winter, the smile lacked all humor. When he reported the attack, the Southerners couldn’t claim they were innocently exploring the somewhat neutral zone around the school and
accidentally
attacked him, not with a zombie involved.

Glancing at the blood soaked ground, his duty and his desire clashed. He needed to warn the Enforcers, but not yet. There could only be one choice.

He hastily swallowed, knowing his priorities were taking an odd twist. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he felt the way he did, but the drive to find the girl was growing stronger. The thought of her alone in the vampire-infested forest, perhaps coming face-to-face with a zombie, filled him with unease.

Resuming his hunt for the girl, he ignored Bernie’s hunched form as the vampire crawled under a bush.

Following the girl’s scent, he paused on the edge of a shroum meadow.

The fresh, metallic scent of blood flooded the air. The reeking smell of vampire intensified. Vampires that lived on a blood-only diet had a harsh stench, one similar to a meat market on a hot summer day. Near his feet, blood soaked the dirt. A bloody shroum thorn lay in a patch of crushed grass.

He snarled and his eyes pulsed with the beat of his hearts. “Dark Fire!” he cursed. Too late, he was too late to save the girl. He should’ve investigated the instant he heard her first scream.

The air was thick with the scent of her fear. The bitter odor nearly pushed him over the edge of sanity. Fury surged through him, closely followed by a shaft of regret; the odd feeling of remorse, of desolation, knotted his chest.

Pausing, he tilted his head in thought and studied the evidence left behind. The signs of a struggle, strewn across the bloody ground, was impossible to miss, but it was the blood covered thorn that held his attention. His burning rage calmed and his racing thoughts took a new track.

The girl had fought Lester, hurting the filthy vampire even though she had been terrified. From the amount of blood - none of it hers - he realized she must have escaped before Lester had time to bite her.

Her fierce actions pleased him as nothing had in a long time.

Yes, fierce
, his dragon soul murmured, echoing his pleasure.

Clenching his hands into a fist, he knew the girl’s brave actions kept him from shifting into full dragon and destroying the meadow.

“Hi, Tyler!” a voice squealed in his ear.

Jumping, he glared at the little pixie hovering in the air less than a hand-span away from his face.

Twirling in the air, Mari giggled.

He sighed, knowing he’d never hear the end of it. A pixie making a wér-dragon jump would be gossip fodder for the entire summer semester.

“I got a new language,” the little pixie said excitedly. “You want a new bite?”

“No time, Mari,” he said quickly, glancing toward the forest.

Her face fell.

Regret pricked his conscious. Pixies brimmed with laughter and mischief. Younger pixies attached themselves to certain households, workings as messenger and all-around flying nuisance. Mari had attached herself to Tyler’s clan five years before.

“Sorry, Mari, I’m on a hunt.”

The little pixie grinned, clapping her hands. “You mean the girl or Lester?”

“Girl?” His eyes snapped to her glowing face. “You saw her? Was she hurt?”

“You want a bite?” Mari asked with a grin, ignoring his urgent questions.

Tyler muttered in frustration, and shifted to human. Holding his index finger up, he waited. Letting her bite him would be faster than arguing with the small pest.

Mari’s teeth flashed.

After the small, stinging bite, his head filled with odd words, and even weirder images.

“The girl?” Tyler questioned, frowning at the little pixie.

“Humph!” She harrumphed, putting her hands on her hips. “You aren’t any fun.”

He glared at her. “Am I ever?”

She blinked at him and grinned again. “Nope, guess not.”

Ready to give up, he turned to go, but she surprised him. “She fell for Lester’s glamour, but I bit her.” Mari’s chest puffed-out and her wings began buzzing as they beat ever faster. She giggled, pointing toward the forest. “She ran that way. After that thorn she hit him with, there might not be another generation of Quarklin vampires, at least not from Lester.”

Her hysterical giggles followed him into the trees.

After a few feet of searching, he found the girl’s trail. Realizing she ran southwest, straight toward home, he sighed in relief.

Following her scent through the tangle of trees, he wondered what she was like. He shook his head, firmly putting his curiosity behind him.

Eyes glancing from one side to the other, he never stopped searching the forest for his enemies. He hadn’t caught the scent of zombies or vampires for nearly a candle-mark, but he needed to confirm what his nose told him was true. With a wizard running about, it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious.

The pursuit gave him time to think. He still couldn’t figure out what had happened to the forest around him. It seemed as if the world had turned upside-down. He recognized the occasional plant and animal, but for every one he recognized three popped up that he had never seen.

In the wide shroum meadow, he had briefly noticed the sky’s color. It was a deep blue, the blue color of a fall sky, not the dust tinted sky of spring. Spring was the time of year that brought roaring southern winds. They dominated the sky, creating huge storms that dumped needed water and faerie dust across the land.

Everyone knew the southern breeze, filled with faerie dust, created the slightly purple haze. It happened every spring. From the look of the current sky, it was as if the spring sky and fall sky had switched places.

He abruptly ceased his internal rambling, but honestly, if the color of the sky wasn’t enough to freak him out, he didn’t know what was.

He took a steadying breath and focused on finding the girl. He remembered the smell of her fear in the meadow. If all the weird stuff had him freaked out, the girl had to be petrified, especially after the vampire attack. Not that he considered her weak; anyone who fought off a vampire with nothing more than a shroum thorn was tough.

He jumped a shallow ditch. It was an understatement to say the terrain was rough. Rocks, trees, and hill after hill filled the area around Fire Lake. Stopping at the edge of a creek bed, he looked up. A small patch of brilliant blue sky peeked through the limbs. He really wanted to surge into the air, but he didn’t give in to temptation. He knew he could cover more ground if he took to the air, but he’d never be able to see her or follow her scent from above the trees.