The Dragon's Distrust (8 page)

Narcil marched steadily close beside
her and placed a timid hand upon her lower back. His index finger
twirled in circles while he played with her corset
strings.

Isbet growled and smacked his hand
away, “What news do you have?”

He sighed as a plume of smoke escaped
his mouth, “We have lost them.”

“Lost who?”

“The Princess and her lover. There was
also another dragon who went with them. There is no trace of
them.”

“What?” she screamed. She tossed her
long, red skirts to the ground and paced across the gray cavern
floor. Her hands clenched into fists, “How dare you bring me this
information! Find them! I said find them!”

Narcil nodded but did not budge, “Have
you forgotten something, Isbet?”

She snarled at him and narrowed her
eyes, “Why else would I bring you here to me! We had an
arrangement, Narcil. You bring me information, and then you will be
rewarded. Camin will spare you. You will be ecstatic watching the
world of men burn.”

“There was another part of
our…arrangement…” He stepped close enough to press his breath
against her neck, “I am in need of your services…”

“What else would you be in need of?”
she muttered under her breath. The only downside to catering to men
in order to have her way was the “catering to men” part. She
detested all things—people, dragons, life. But she would do
whatever was necessary to succeed. She did not believe in love nor
did she believe she could ever love again. She had been hurt deeply
by Polas and the festering anger that dwelled within her heart
would be the ruin of all.

“What do you wish of me?” she spoke
softly while she closed off her heart so she wouldn’t be party to
the upcoming event. Narcil, although he was made of fire, could be
a cold lover.

Narcil smiled wickedly while flames
danced on his fingertips, “Same thing as always, my
love.”

She turned around so that her back
faced him. Isbet rolled her eyes and tried to compose herself.
Soon, she would not need another dragon. Soon, she would be free to
destroy this realm. Narcil would be the first to be eradicated. His
constant need for companionship was despicable. Nonetheless, she
whipped around and faced him.

She wore her patented look of seduction
and she snaked around him like a vine around a column. He returned
her wanton stare and returned her embrace.

Chapter 9

The stream continued to burble and
gurgle while Tania sat between Patryck and Aristo. She played with
a few green leaves while the peaceful silence grew. Patryck and
Aristo were on speaking terms and were quite friendly but there
were still issues to work out. However, they were not pressing
issues. In fact, they could maintain civility and joviality
whenever they wished. The lightened mood greatly helped the
pregnant Princess.

Carrying a child was
stressful enough—she did not need the added burden of warring
lovers. A sudden thought donned on her. She quickly stood in the
stream and spun around to face her dragons, “I need sustenance.
The
baby
needs
sustenance!” A rush of energy spurned her forward into the dark
forest.

“Wait, Princess!” Patryck chased behind
her.

She glanced to her side and already
Aristo briskly walked to her right. He seemed to glide while he
smiled, “And where do you think you’re off to?”

“I need to eat.”

“We know that, Princess,” Patryck said
exasperatedly.

Tania ignored him and continued
trudging through the forest, knocking limbs out of her way and
nearly giggling when they would return to smack Patryck on the
rear. The limbs never managed to graze Aristo, however, he was too
quick. Her focus remained on finding food. She had never foraged
before so she was unsure of what to do or where to look but she
knew she would eventually stumble upon something like berries or
bread. Bread grew in the forest, didn’t it? Her heart sank. If only
she had the castle chef cooking up her favorite foods…the dragon
baby would be happy then. So would she.

For several moments, while she ignored
the yammering dragons whom only had her welfare in mind, all she
could think of was being back at the castle. She missed the cold,
windy drafts that slunk through the arid halls, she missed the
numerous paintings and tapestries that sometimes would conceal
missing parts of the walls, and she even missed the marching
guards. She hoped the guards and the many servants were safe after
she and Thomas had burned the prison down. Where was Thomas? Was he
safe?

Her mind continued to puzzle the recent
events and her stomach wretched. She bent over and heaved foul
bile. She moaned and nearly fainted dead on the ground.

“Be still, lover,” Aristo cradled her
in his arms and wiped some of the vomit from her chin, “You are
entering the stages of dragon pregnancy and it will not be
pleasant. It will take every bit of strength you have to endure
this,” he paused and spoke slowly, “You are lucky that you have two
dragons more than willing to be at your beck and call.”

Tania knew it was difficult for Aristo
to admit Tania was carrying Patryck’s child and the words he spoke
meant more than he would ever know. She stroked his forearm and
would have cried but she was dehydrated and no tears would
come.

“What are the stages?” she asked
curiously.

Aristo shrugged, “Stephan knows more
than I. I only know that it feels like the end of the world and
even then that was told to me by a dragon long ago. I have never
been pregnant so I will not ever fully understand the misery or
happiness you will feel. But I want you to know, I will not leave
your side. I am here for you, whatever you need.”

Patryck kneeled in front of her, “As am
I. You have my legacy, Princess, and I will not abandon you. Let us
take care of you. You will not regret having my child. I can search
for food. In a few days, I’ll feel well enough to take us all back
to the Den. There will be a party, of that I’m certain. Everyone
will want to celebrate the new arrival. It will be a happy occasion
and no one will mind that you will be…ahem…loosing your
bowels…”

Tania jerked her blushing cheeks toward
him, “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell her that!” Aristo
snapped.

Patryck grinned, “Oh Princess, your
flatulence will be a thing of legend.” He laughed loudly at her
expense while Tania tried her hardest to growl like a dragon. She
managed quite a throaty snarl when a few snapped twigs interrupted
her concentration.

Aristo and Patryck were instantly
alert. Tania had been shuffled behind them. They faced the wood
with bated breath. Rustling leaves screamed that something indeed
was approaching. A few birds cawed loudly and escaped into the open
arms of the heavens.

The sickness Tania felt was not from
the pregnancy. The thought of her mental sickness, of lusting for
several dragons, took hold. She had previously thought that from
her sickness, bad things would soon follow. She was not
wrong.

Tania nearly screamed as three men
entered the clearing. She had seen them before. They were the
Dragon Slayers. Crimson blades gleamed as a beam of light found the
metal. The Dragon Slayers were clothed in heavy red woolen robes
which hid even more weapons. Their hoods were drawn close over
their faces so that only the whites of their eyes shone.

Tania grasped both Patryck and Aristo
by their thick arms and tried to yank them backward. Her instinct
was to flee. But dragons were not accustomed to running from a
fight. Especially not Aristo and Patryck. They were similar in
their actions—impulsive, reckless. Strategy and planning were not
qualities in their repertoire.

She watched with utter horror as Aristo
stood his ground and roared. Patryck quickly followed suit. They
adopted a fighting stance and held their fists up close to their
face. Neither of them could morph into a dragon. Patryck had been
healing and transformation was out of the question unless he wished
to re-injure himself.

It was raw masculine power versus the
Dragon Slayers. Tania’s stomach immediately flipped. A harsh sense
of foreboding lingered in her tummy. This confrontation would not
end well. She took a few steps back and moved out of the way so at
least her lovers would not worry about her safety. They needed to
focus on the intruders.

“I could smell the foul stench of
dragon from leagues away,” spoke a slayer on the right. His voice
was deep like a waterfall cascading onto boulders. He did not
gesture, nor did he move while he spoke. It was as if a statue were
speaking. Tania shivered. Although all the slayers were dangerous,
she had a feeling this particular slayer would be the worst. He
would harm someone dear to her.

“And I could smell your beastly funk…”
Patryck began but was interrupted by Aristo.

“What makes you think we are dragons?”
he asked.

The man on the right chuckled, “Let’s
not play games. It is our destiny to slay you. Hence the
name.”

Aristo returned the chuckle, “Then I
would not take it personally if you knew it was our destiny to slay
you.”

The Slayer cackled loudly like a harpy
as he brandished his long sword. The red blade caught Tania’s eye
and she whimpered. From even a few yards away, she knew just how
sharp the blade had been made. The weapon twanged eerily in the
tense silence.

She watched in cold fear as Aristo and
Patryck each took a step forward. The Slayer who had been speaking
nodded and his men also stepped forward. The actions reminded Tania
of storm clouds about to clash into each other. The very heavens
would tremble once the fighting came to blows.

And it did. The Slayers lunged toward
Aristo and Patryck. Two Slayers broke off and surrounded Aristo
while the third focused his might on Patryck. Aristo blocked two
hard swings from the heavy, thick swords with his forearms. Blood
cascaded down his arms but still he kept blocking the Slayers. Each
time the men were denied their strike, they came at Aristo with
more ferocity than before.

Aristo held his own but he could not
last long against the fully-fed, well-rested,
trained-to-slay-dragons Dragon Slayers. Eventually, he would be
worn down.

Patryck laughed loudly as he knocked
down the Slayer attacking him. It only took one kick to the face
and the man was out cold, “Having fun yet, Aristo?” he asked
mockingly. Aristo did not answer. He was facing two of the Slayers
and his attention was focused on survival, “In need of my help?”
Patryck laughed again.

Tania saw Aristo roll his eyes and he
pounced on the Slayer to his left and took the sword from the man’s
hands. Aristo brandished the weapon at the last standing Slayer and
then he smiled, “It looks like you could use more training. It is a
shame you will not live to learn more of real fighting.”

The Slayer spoke haughtily as if he had
not lost the battle, “And it is a shame you do not understand the
concept of diversion.”

A loud, splurting sound erupted from
Patryck’s mouth as a sword came out from his belly. The Slayer
Patryck had seemingly knocked out cold had stabbed Patryck in the
back. The Slayer rose and yanked his blade from Patryck’s body.
Patryck fell hard onto the ground and did not stir.

Aristo roared a war cry that would
shame thunder as he leapt to each man and ripped off their heads
one by one. Fountains of blood erupted in the once calm glen as
Aristo sated his thirst for revenge.

Tania ignored the warm blood pooling
around her feet and rushed to Patryck’s side. The red liquid
splashed along her calves and naked knees. She placed her head on
his chest. He wasn’t breathing, “Patryck,” she whispered as she
began to shake his arms, “Patryck!” Her actions and voice
intensified the more he did not respond until she was literally
shaking his eyes from his sockets and screaming more shrilly than
any Mountain Galdyr.

Patryck remained limp in her arms,
“You’re immortal. You cannot die! You are water!” Tears leaked down
her face but she kept pleading with the dead body to wake, “Water
cannot be slain with a sword! Wake up!”

But he did not rise and nor would he
rise ever again. Patryck was dead.

Aristo heard her pleas and rushed to
her side. His scraped and bloodied hands felt for any sign of life
on this young dragon. All he felt was death. Patryck’s body had
already begun to chill. The warmth of life had left him.

“And thus another arm of Polas has
taken my kin…”

Aristo clutched Tania close to his
chest and held her tightly while she sobbed in his arms.

The father of her child had just been
murdered and so she wept. It was a dry sob, one that had no water
but many tears. She couldn’t hear Aristo’s pounding heart against
her cheek while she hiccupped and choked on mucous. She couldn’t
hear the steady stream mingling with the thinning blood beneath her
trembling legs while she screamed. And she couldn’t remember the
joy of ever having Patryck near her. The sorrow had overcome her
and she was lost to despair.

Aristo continued to pet her hair and
pelt her forehead with kisses but it was to no avail. She could not
feel anything other than complete and utter loss. She had claimed
Patryck and they had shared a bond. With his death, a part of her
died. A large piece of her heart shattered into a million pieces
and it would never be whole again. She barely even knew Patryck.
She wished she could have had more conversations with him or at
least knew his favorite color. But she knew nothing other than love
for him.