The Dragons' Chosen (31 page)

She fell, careened down the cliff, arms and legs flailing in every direction, three dragons hot in pursuit.

I heard a scream from somewhere close and realized it was me. I covered my mouth with both hands.

She fell so impossibly fast, I feared that the dragons wouldn’t reach her before she hit the ground. One of them folded his wings and dove.

Then, Chris’s neck stretched impossibly long, wings erupted from her shoulders and a tail ridged with thick spines whipped kite-like in the wind. A small amber dragon, flapping for sky, teetering side to side as she awkwardly tried to coordinate her wings. Her tail swept back and forth like an out of control rudder.

I took a convulsive gulp of air, startled that I had been holding my breath.

Her flight staggered, threatening to collapse into another free-fall, when a gold and coral dragon—Hugh—sailed beneath her, sweeping open huge leathery wings and buoying her up as she held her wings outstretched. Slowly, ever so slowly, they gained height, back up to where I stood waiting, Hugh bearing the weight of a newly-formed dragon balanced on his back. Higher and higher they inched upward, Hugh forcing his wings downward, gaining loft with each stroke.

Piers at my side provided a running commentary. “He’s making that look easy, but she has got to be heavy, upward of three tons. You have to give Hugh his due. Not many could fly carrying that much weight. He’s going to be one sore dragon.” Higher and higher they flew ’til they were level with the plateau. The amber dragon, steadied by Hugh’s enormous wings, lifted off and landed with a loud smack.

As Hugh lightly touched his claws upon the earth, they both changed back into human form. Hugh grasped Chris’s hand with his. I should have blushed then, seeing them like that, their bodies divested of clothing, standing there, the sun highlighting their naked forms. But it was their faces that held my attention, both stripped bare of pretense, the shock and wonder in their eyes. Hugh released her hand and pulled away—reluctantly, it seemed to me.

Chris flickered—that’s the only way I can describe it.

The men shouted a warning to Hugh. Chris’s body reverted into a dragon, but Hugh was too close, too exhausted from his rescue flight. Before he could leap safely away, Chris’s wing tip caught him a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground.

“Ouch! Looks like he took a hard hit to the ribs.” Piers shook his head. “It could take days to recover from that.”

The amber dragon, my Chris, stood over Hugh’s body. As I started forward to help, Pier’s hand on my shoulder gave me pause. He looking over at me worriedly and warned, “Be careful, sometimes a newly turned she-dragon can be—”

Chris launched herself at the first of the men to arrive, teeth and talons out. A challenging roar came from her throat.

“—vicious,” he concluded.

I was so startled that I stepped well away from her and watched James and Tristan continue forward to attempt to calm her.

Piers leaned back against the mountainside. “It must be that maternal thing.” He frowned as she rose up on her hind legs and swung a clawed forearm at Tristan. “Oh good, she missed. This might take a while,” he said, nodding his head toward me. “Female dragons, in their first turning, are quite fearsome. It can be some time before they adapt to this shape. Not like us boys, who turn from dragon to boy for amusement while playing—” he glanced at me to see if I comprehended. “You understand, for sport.”

The Chris dragon snapped and growled, taking a quick leap at James before again hovering protectively over Hugh. Guarding him with her body, I thought. I could hear her soft, distressed crooning to Hugh over the sound of the men’s voices.

As we watched, Hugh came to and raised himself up on one elbow, staring into the amber dragon’s eyes. She changed again, flickered into her human shape. She looked around, turned very pale and collapsed beside him.

Tristan got to them first, removing his shirt and draping it over Chris. I was almost to her

when Piers spoke behind me. “It doesn’t mean anything.” At the question in my eyes, Piers continued, a hint of worry in his voice. “She would be protective over a mangy dog in this state. Never know what drives them when they first turn.”

But we all saw what happened. It was Hugh she was defending. Hugh, who vied for my hand. She had looked at him in utter adoration.

Chapter 44

“You don’t have to say it again, Chris. They understand.”

“But a dragon! I can change into a dragon.” She looked at me, her eyes big. “And fly. It must be a dominant gene like brown eyes or near-sightedness. Or something. But maybe not.” She paused. “My father never changed.”

Tristan looked at me for a translation, and I shrugged. Much of what she said was still undecipherable to me. He said to her, “I wish you had told us. It doesn’t take much dragon blood to transform, and here in these caves…” He looked around. “It’s a magical place for some of us. Many of our historians believe that we came from here centuries ago.”

Chris nodded, looking past him. “Where’s Hugh?”

I remembered the look on her face from yesterday, wondering if I should feel betrayed. I felt confused. How serious was her interest in Hugh—a passing fancy, some outgrowth of her turning dragon?

“He’s off with Rauf.” Piers grinned. “Trying to get some of the gravel out of his hide.”

“Oh god.”

James patted her absentmindedly. “He’ll be fine. Interesting, though, about Victoria. This explains why she was never found.”

Piers quirked his head. “So are you coming back with us now? Going to turn dragon again and fly with us?”

“I think that’s not a good idea, given that I attacked you guys.”

She paused as if anticipating the men telling her otherwise. They didn’t. Piers and James left to forage for food.

Tristan remained, still awaiting his turn at chess. Chris vacillated between exhilaration and horror. “So, tell me truthfully, what did you see? My memory of it is all so fuzzy. Did I really attack the men?”

How to say this politely? “You seemed agitated but you didn’t harm anyone. Not really.”

She shook her head, refusing my comfort. “Hugh is scratched, bruised, splotched in colors of blue and brown. Did I do that? He won’t say.”

“Well, yes, but it was an accident. I suspect it was difficult for you to know where the edges of your body were. Something like wearing a formal court gown with all your hoops. Last winter my sister was practicing and she knocked over a large porcelain vase.”

Chris put her knuckles to her mouth.

Tristan leaned forward. “But you were beautiful, amber and gold and every color of the sun. One of the loveliest dragons I have seen in a first turning.”

Chris grinned at his words. “The loveliest woman also?”

Tristan’s eyes met mine for a second; a bolt of lightning leapt the distance between us. He grinned back at Chris and I wondered if it had even happened. “Certainly one of the loveliest,” he said, sitting across from me. He stretched his legs out before him and flashed me a complicit smile, as if he and I were a team.

I felt my face redden as I held out my hands, a pawn hidden in each. “Choose.”

He pointed to my left fist.

“White.”

He would move first.

A loud roar of annoyance came from outside. Chris jumped up. “That’s Hugh. I need to say I’m sorry and see how he is.”

And Tristan and I were alone.

He met my eyes for a split second, and I looked away. I sat up a little straighter, trying to compose myself. It must be warm, I thought. My cheeks were definitely hot.

Tristan moved. A classic double king's pawn opening. I used my pawn to counter.

After four moves apiece, we were locked into a tight game. I watched his hands, a musician’s long, slender, callused fingers. My mind drifted as I wondered what they would feel like against my skin. I jerked upright and saw him staring at my bodice, lips almost pursed. I breathed out quickly and moved my bishop. A careless move, one that even an intermediate player would be ashamed to make. Now he would corner my castle. And from there, two more moves and it would be over. He hesitated, fingers caressing his knight. Then he removed his hand and pushed a pawn but one space forward. My heart raced, fingers frozen in my lap. A throwaway move.

I looked up then and met his eyes. We both turned away. I corrected my move and we were back to even, a balanced board, neither of us with an advantage. There was quiet for the space of four breaths, maybe more. His hands rested on either side of the board. I listened to the sound of our breathing. With his next move, he pinned my castle with his knight. I countered with my bishop and around we went, both of us determined to win. He would attack my men and I would respond by attacking his. A carnage of chess pieces stacked up on each side of the board. The other men gathered around. I didn’t notice at first; my head was down as I focused on the board. Finally, James spoke up. “It is over. You are evenly matched. It’s a stalemate.”

--

How much time passed after that, I don’t remember. James and Piers drifted away soon after. Rauf left with a sour mouth and no words.

We sat at the table unwilling to part but neither of us able to break through our reserve. I believe it was I who finally stood. Tristan offered to walk me outside, and I accepted. So conscious was I of Tristan’s hand barely skimming the small of my waist that nothing else mattered.

As we stepped outside, the glorious blue sky called me back to my surroundings. A few gray clouds rimming the northern mountains and a handful of leaves scooted by as if on an important errand. All my thoughts were of Tristan. His hand left my back, and I felt bereft.

We looked out over the southern landscape, watching a formation of geese winging through the sky, listening to their calls. My whole body tingled from Tristan’s closeness. I wondered if he felt the same.

“Genevieve?” His voice was so soft that it might have been the wind calling my name. I turned and saw his hand extended toward me. Our fingertips touched. I felt the ridges on his thumb as it caressed mine. We were standing so close, our lips neared; I could feel the heat from his face. Was this what all the ballads were about, all the love songs I’d heard sung?

A gust of wind brought a sudden chill down my back. One gust and then another. My skin prickled with cold. I ignored it. Tristan’s chest rose with his breath. I saw his nostrils flare as if scenting something in the air. A branch tumbled by me as a freezing breeze raked my skin. I shivered with cold. Tristan lifted his head to the north, his body tense.

Something hit me and then again. Ice. A torrent of hailstones dropped as a freezing wind encased us.

From the cave mouth, James’s voice called out, “Tristan, Genevieve! A storm, a freak hailstorm.”

Tristan’s sharp exhalation caused me to look up as the hail continued showering down. He pulled away, but beneath my fingers I felt the first changes: claws that lengthened to the size of my hand, scales erupting across his arms. A piece of ice brushed my cheek, others hit my arms and shoulders. Tristan’s scaled arm stretched over my head.

His face elongated. His jaw pulled forward out of his body, the forehead ridges protruding, his neck extending far above. A tail uncurled and slithered across the ground. In seconds, no more than that, a dragon towered over me. I froze, a rabbit beneath a falcon on a ground white with hailstones.

I heard the pounding of the ice stones as they bounced off Tristan’s body. He shielded me, but with one careless move of that wing, I could be dead.

This was Tristan. Tristan, I kept thinking, even as I trembled. But as his dragon head snaked downward, I could see myself mirrored in his eyes, my body shivering from the icy storm, my look of fear at the silver and emerald wing above, protecting me. This was too sudden, too close.

I picked up my skirts, ducked and ran.

Chapter 45