Enflamed (Book 2) (25 page)

“A corpse?”
Sigmund craned his head to see past Kaijin’s shoulder
toward the stretch of rocks and boulders beyond.

“Oh, Goddess ...” Zarya
whispered, rushing in the direction of the small mound in the distance.

Aidan had not moved from his
spot, though his face had lost its usual silvery sheen and gone dull. He
blinked once—the first time he’d blinked since he brought them Carver.

“Aidan, are you all right?”
Sigmund asked.

Aidan clutched the knotted top
of the bag. His mouth slowly opened.

“That corpse ...” Carver said
suddenly. “It’s Gaston.”

Sigmund’s attention snapped to
Carver.
“Gaston?
I’ve heard that name mentioned
recently in my travels. He is a slayer.” He scowled at the boy. “And you are
working for him?”

Carver lowered his head. “Not
anymore, sir.”

“I am a Celestial guardian,
appointed to protect the Dragons from slayers and other evil. Give me one
reason why I should believe you.”

Carver gasped.
“A Celestial?
A guardian of the Dragons?
Oh, hells, I ... I didn’t realize—”

“Answer me this instant, boy.”

“I—I swear it, sir! I swear I
won’t have anything to do with the Legion anymore! I will return home to my
life on the streets and learn to enjoy it.”

Sigmund observed the boy for a
long moment and then rubbed his chin. “I have a better idea. But first, we need
to return to the Mistress.”

A tear rolled down Aidan’s
cheek, and he rubbed it away with the back of his fist.
“Leave
Carver alone.
He had nothing to do with it. It is Aidan’s fault that
Gaston is dead.”

All eyes turned to the giant.

“Wait ... So you
did
kill him?” Kaijin asked.

Omari smiled thinly. “I knew
that sinister side of you would be of use to us, Aidan.”

“No, Aidan regrets what he has
done,” Aidan continued. “That is why Aidan does not like violence. Someone—”

“—always
gets ’urt.
Aye, aye, we know,
Aidan,” Nester finished with a roll of his eyes and a shrug.

“Unfortunately, violence was
necessary this time.” Kaijin said.

Aidan shook his head.
“Violence is never ‘necessary’. It is just convenient way to resolve problem.”

Kaijin opened his mouth but
closed it again quickly and thought about his response. “Sometimes, some of us
do not have control over how we resolve problems,” he said finally. “Sometimes
we cannot change fate.”

“Defeating him was part of the
mission, Aidan,” Sigmund explained. “He committed a crime—no, a
sin
against
the goddess—by doing what he did. Not even I could detect any aura of goodness
in that man’s heart.”

“But Aidan does not like
killing,” Aidan said.

“Not everyone likes killing,
but justice must be served. Would you have let him live so that he could steal more
eggs? Kill more Dragons? Sell their corpses for
his own
fame and monetary gain?”

Aidan hung his head.

“He was going to kill me,
Aidan,” Carver broke in. “And you, too!”

“There are black markets all
over the world selling Dragon scales and body parts,” Sigmund explained. “I
would not be surprised if they were going to do the same to you, too, Aidan.”

Omari’s lip curled.
“Despicable.”

“Indeed, it is.” Sigmund’s
expression mirrored Omari’s distaste. “They care nothing for the well-being of
others and care only about filling their pockets with gold. The death of this
one man has saved the lives of countless others.”

Kaijin nodded. “Take it for
what it’s worth, Aidan. You saved a baby Dragon. The Mistress will be very
happy.”

Aidan managed a small smile,
but he looked back over his shoulder at Gaston’s corpse.
Zarya
returned, her head hung low.

Omari huffed. “What are you so
sad about?” he asked her.

Zarya looked up, regarding
everyone solemnly. “I prayed for the goddess to take him.”

“What? So you even pray over
the corpses of enemies? I thought Celestials despised slayers?”

“We do,” Sigmund broke in.
“But as servants of the goddess, born of
Her
breath,
we must ask Her to take their souls away and pronounce on them the final
judgment that only She can give.”

Zarya sighed. “I am ready.”

Aidan slung the bag lightly
over his shoulder and led the way back to Kyniythyria’s mountain.

XXII

The return trip to Mallowyn
Crags was a swift one. As the group began scaling Kyniythyria’s mountain,
Aidan, who had lagged behind, stopped.
Did the egg just move by itself?

He waited to see if it would
happen again. It did.

Startled, Aidan held the bag
in front of him. He waited a few moments and saw the bag jerk.

“Aidan! What are you doing?”
Sigmund called from up ahead, where the rest of the group had paused.

Aidan peered inside the bag to
examine the egg. Its smooth, speckled surface twitched. The movement was too
slight for most beings’ eyes to notice, but he felt it, too.

He waved to his companions and
smiled. “Aidan thinks egg may hatch very soon!”

The group stared, evidently
stunned, as he approached.

“We must hurry, then,” Zarya
said.

* * *

The sun began setting by the
time Kaijin and the others reached the mountain’s peak. Kyniythyria poked her head
out of her cave and greeted them. She hissed at the group, and then her
cat-like eyes moved to Aidan.
“Czylenemaraad!
Oh! My
child is safe!” She let out a low growl and eyed the rest of the group. “Who is
that?”

Sigmund shoved Carver. “She
means you, boy.”

Carver gulped and cowered at
the Dragon. “Ah ... M–M–My n–name is Carver.”

Aidan dropped to one knee,
bowed his head, and carefully took the egg out of the bag, cradling it in his
hands. He and Kyniythyria started speaking in a series of what sounded like
growls and snarls to Kaijin.

Beside Kaijin, Nester was the
first to mirror Aidan’s actions and kneel. Everyone else followed suit until
Kaijin was the last one left standing.

Miele landed on his shoulder
and huddled her furry body against his neck. Kaijin bowed his head slightly,
and glanced sidelong at Omari, who appeared to be in deep meditation. From the
set of his shoulders, Omari had to be exhausted, and Kaijin could only assume
that Zarya’s spell was finally beginning to wear off. Percival nestled against
Omari, his beady eyes drawn to the Dragon.

Kaijin quietly called to
Zarya, trying to get her attention, but she remained focused on the
conversation, so instead, he lightly nudged Nester. “Do you know what Aidan and
the Mistress are saying?”

Nester kept a cautious eye on
the two Dragonkin, and whispered, “Ah, not really, mate. But methinks she’s
’appy to ’ave ’er child back, at least. Whether or not
she’s
gonna kill us now? I’ve no soddin’ idea.”

Kaijin blinked. “What? But why
would she kill us? We saved her child like she told us to.”

“Aye, but ... well, Dragons
can be funny about that kinda stuff sometimes, y’know? She might think we took
too long or somethin’.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Shh!” Zarya hushed, eyeing
the two of them sternly.

Kyniythyria took the egg from
Aidan and disappeared into the cave. Afterwards, Aidan stood, beamed at the
others, and followed.

Kaijin stood and called,
“Aidan, wait—” But it was too late.

“Follow me.” Sigmund beckoned
everyone who remained.

They followed the guardian
inside to find Kyniythyria curled up in her nest, cradling the egg in her
claws. Her tail was curled close to her body, and her wings were draped about
her like a cloak. Aidan sat cross-legged before her, reverently staring at the
egg as if his mere gaze alone would make it hatch.

Miele flew from Kaijin’s
shoulder and found a comfortable spot in a small shadowy alcove above. The rest
of his companions gathered before the two Dragonkin and stood in silence.

The menacing cast to
Kyniythyria’s eyes had vanished; she seemed much more soft and
generous—motherly. “Friends, I must thank you for rescuing my child. May the
goddess bless you for your courageous
effort.
”

Sigmund and Zarya promptly bowed
their heads and each fell to one knee. Nester, Omari, and Carver followed suit.
Kaijin shifted his gaze left and right, watching his companions,
then—slowly—also knelt.

“We are truly honored to have
been given this opportunity to do this for you, Great Mistress,” Sigmund said.
“Only a few of Gaston’s men managed to escape, but I do not think they will
cause any more trouble in this area for now. Justice has been served upon
Gaston, the head of that small band of Legionnaires.”

Sigmund grabbed Carver by the
back of his tunic and shoved him forward. “Great Mistress, we found Carver with
Aidan. He was apparently in the service of Gaston for a short period of time.”

“Very short,” Carver muttered,
giving Sigmund a dirty look.

Kyniythyria’s gaze hardened.
Her muscles tensed slightly, and she drew the egg against her body. “Why have
you brought him here?”

“Because, Great Mistress,”
Sigmund said respectfully, “
he
has seen the error of
his ways and has chosen to cease his journey upon the evil path he had begun to
follow. I would like your permission for him to accompany me so that I may
train him to become a guardian.”

Kyniythyria’s claws loosened
from the egg and her body relaxed.
“A guardian?
Really, now?”

Carver blinked, and he looked askance
at the two of them.

Zarya furrowed her brow. “I
thought only Celestials could be guardians.”

“Technically, yes,” Sigmund
replied, “but that does not mean Carver can’t help by other means. He can be a
liaison for us, searching for slayers in places we may be unable to go. No one
would suspect someone like Carver to be in the service of the Celestials and
Dragons.”

Nester tapped his chin. “Oh, I
see. ’E can act as a spy for you folks, aye?”

Sigmund cleared his throat.
“Yes, something
like
that.”

“Wait, don’t I have a say in
anything?” Carver blurted. When all gazes turned on him, he cringed. “... Uh,
never mind.”

Kyniythyria let out a soft
hiss at Carver, and then acknowledged Sigmund. “I think it is an acceptable
idea. But be warned, guardian. His failure will mean your failure.”

Sigmund bowed his head.
“Of course, Great Mistress.
Thank you.” He yanked Carver
back to him. “We will begin tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Omari repeated.
“Yes, tomorrow sounds good right about now.” He yawned and scooted away from the
group. He sat with his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Percival
curled up in his lap and fell asleep.

“Not a bad idea, mate,” Nester
said, stretching. “I could go for a few winks.” He, too, found a secluded spot
and lay down.

Sigmund exchanged glances with
Zarya,
then
the priestess left to find her own place
to sleep. “Great Mistress, is that all for tonight, then?” Sigmund inquired of
Kyniythyria.

Kyniythyria nodded. “Yes,
please rest. We will speak more in the morning.”

Watching everyone get
comfortable made Kaijn’s eyelids grow heavy. He found an unoccupied spot in the
cave, sprawled on his back, and immediately fell asleep.

* * *

Aidan was exhausted, and yet,
he had trouble sleeping. Even after the rest of his companions had retired for
the night, he never left Kyniythyria’s side.

Her egg cradled in her arms,
she allowed him to sleep beside her—a privilege that he certainly did not
decline. He lay with his back against her smooth, scaly belly and closed his
eyes. He reveled in her ozone scent, less strong as it had been when she was
enraged. Beneath that sharp odor, he smelled something more homely—familiar yet
undiscernable.

He turned his head, his cheek
pressing against her scales, and stared at the egg. He was certain he had
detected movement before, and yet it still had not hatched. He couldn’t sleep,
not remembering the way Gaston’s corpse had stared at him.

“What ails you, Aidan?” Her
low rumble vibrated against his cheek, startling him. He looked up and saw she
had half-opened one eye.

He settled back into her side,
not wanting to disturb her. “Nothing, Mistress,” he replied softly in Draconic.
“I am just having trouble sleeping.”

“It was you who killed Gaston,
wasn’t it?”

Aidan paused, and then looked
at her. “How did you know?”

Her body shook as she let out
a soft chuckle. “I can smell his blood on you.”

“Did you know him?”

“Not personally. Though I knew
one of the victims he’d slain. He carried Gaston’s same bloody scent.”

Aidan sighed and lowered his
head. “I hate killing, Mistress.”

Kyniythyria opened her other
eye. “So do
I
. So do most Dragons who serve the
goddess, unlike many misconceptions. But your actions are forgiven.”

Aidan swallowed. Memories
flooded his mind again. “I ... I have killed once before and swore I would never
do it again.”

“Sometimes death must occur in
order for life to continue. Who was this unfortunate soul?”

She would understand what the
rest of his companions would not have. “He was a slayer. He and his small army
killed many of my brethren, as well as the civilians we were helping....” He
lowered his gaze, horror preventing him from saying more.

Kyniythyria half-lowered her
eyelids. “The goddess forgives you.”

Aidan looked at her,
surprised.
Is it truly that easy for
Her
to
forgive?
He pursed his lips.
Maybe I am just tired.

He nestled more comfortably
against her. He sighed, closed his eyes, and began drifting into a troubled
sleep.

Only minutes later, a sharp
sound interrupted his dream—a forceful crack. Aidan’s eyes shot open, and he
saw Kyniythyria fully awake and staring intently at her egg, which bore a tiny
crack near the top. Aidan sprang up and whispered, “Is it time?!”

Kyniythyria gave a solemn nod.
She gently ran her claws along the first cracks, which slowly lengthened.

Aidan huddled near the egg. He
looked to his companions, tempted to wake them.

“No, Aidan, let them sleep.
This is a moment worthy for kin to witness.”

Aidan beamed at her.
‘Kin’—she
accepts me as family?

More cracks appeared, and the egg
looked ready to break. Clear liquid oozed from the cracks. Kyniythyria didn’t
help her baby along, which puzzled Aidan.

Kyniythyria glanced at Aidan,
then back to the egg. “You have not witnessed a hatching before, have you?”

“No, Mistress,” Aidan shook
his head, still gazing at the egg. Pieces of speckled eggshell broke and
littered the ground.

He leaned closer and glimpsed
the baby’s yellow-green scales. There was movement inside, and the baby
suddenly broke free.

Aidan’s body went warm with
delight.
What a beautiful, strong child it is.
He couldn’t stop
grinning, and his eyes burned from joyful tears that streamed down his face. He
rubbed the tears away, and he gazed at the baby Dragon, which was as small as a
human toddler.

Its eyes still closed, it let
out soft chirps.

“It chirps like ... a bird?”
Aidan furrowed his brow.

Chuckling, Kyniythyria pulled
her child closer. She flicked her tongue over its slick back, and the baby
ceased its small cries. “Of course,” she said. “It is a temporary defensive
mechanism since he is so tiny. After about a week, however, he will get a
little bigger, and his vocal cords will begin to develop.”

“I see ...” Aidan glanced
around the cave. His companions were still fast asleep. “So it is a boy, then?
You knew all this time?” He tilted his head slightly, attempting to get a peek
at the baby’s underside.

Kyniythyria wrapped her claws
around her child, cutting off Aidan’s view. “Indeed. He tastes and smells like
a male,” she said simply.

Aidan pulled back and decided
not to continue the conversation. The day’s events had caught up with him. He
tried to remain awake, but his eyes grew heavy, and he nodded off briefly.

Jerking himself awake, he lay
back against her belly. As soon as the back of his head touched her scales, he
fell asleep.