Kiss of Darkness (The Dragon Legion Novellas) (13 page)

“Petra,” Damien whispered in awe.

“What is this?” Hades demanded, even as the ground underfoot trembled. “Stop this immediately!” he cried.

“No! We will not stay!” Petra opened her mouth and roared, commanding the earth to move just as her womb contracted. “We have sacrificed! We have paid! And we are alive!” She felt her son move and channeled the pain with her powers, compelling the element of earth to respond to her command.

The ground underfoot shook hard. It buckled and rolled, then suddenly cracked wide. A large dark fissure opened between them and the ruler of the realm, and snakes spewed from it to scatter in every direction. Damien muttered an oath, but held fast to Petra’s hand. There was a rumble of moving rock.

Petra summoned her strength and pushed harder, directing her efforts upward. The entire realm shook, like a straw house in the wind. There was a deafening boom and the darkness overhead split wide open.

A ray of sunlight stabbed into the darkness of the underworld. The dead throughout the underworld shouted in mingled dismay and delight, but Petra wasn’t done. Their escape path was clear, but they weren’t through it yet. She called to the earth, she drew upon her powers and the land beneath their feet rippled.

It convulsed.

Another contraction began deep in her body and she used it, clenching her fists to drive the power as she wished. The ground folded and shifted, and suddenly shoved them high into the sky. Damien caught her close so she wouldn’t lose her footing, and she held on to him tightly.

“No one leaves this realm!” Hades cried in dismay.

“Try to stop us,” Damien muttered, resolve making his eyes shine. “Come on, Petra. One more good shove.”

“Yes,” she agreed, and mustered her strength again. She was tired, but she had to save Damien and their son. She pushed hard, closing her eyes as she gave her all.

Suddenly, there was a thunderclap. The crack began to close overhead, sealing the underworld once again.

“No!” Damien cried and leapt upward.

He might have called to the shaft of sunlight. It pierced the darkness as if targeting him, and struck him like a bolt of lightning. Petra saw the shimmer of blue-green darkfire roll over Damien’s body and feared Hades had claimed his life, after all.

Then Damien shouted with joy and her relief made her tremble.

“Yes!” he bellowed and Petra knew what would happen. She laughed when she saw the pale blue shimmer of light surround his body and squeezed her eyes shut. Damien shifted shape with glorious speed, and she thrilled as always at the beauty of his dragon form. She opened her eyes to find herself securely in his grasp, his scales cool and hard beneath her hands. She could feel his muscled strength and she delighted in the power of his wings and tail.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he soared toward the sky overhead, holding her safely against his chest as his powerful wings beat hard. Petra felt a waft of fresh wind on her face, smelled the green of the hills and dared to hope that they would succeed.

The crack overhead was closing steadily, as if it would cheat them of freedom right at the last. Petra knew that if they were trapped in underworld, Hades would make them pay for their transgression for all eternity. She could hear him shouting far below and willed the earth to shake violently in the hope of silencing him.

“Faster,” she whispered to her dragon, even though she knew Damien was pushing himself to his limits.

But the crack began to close even more quickly. Petra was afraid it was already too narrow for Damien’s width. He surged forward, his wings beating more furiously. He leapt through the crack with a final burst of speed, twisting as he flew to work himself through the narrowing gap.

The fissure snapped shut behind them and he shouted as it claimed the tip of his tail.

Against all expectation, they were free.

“Are you all right?” Petra demanded and Damien laughed.

“Never better.” He soared high in the midday sky, clearly reveling in the return of his powers. The sunlight glinted on his scales, making him sparkle like a gem.

“Your scales,” she said with wonder.

Damien looked over himself, then grinned with pride. “Like it?”

The color of his scales had changed, from deep green dipped in gold to gold dipped in green. He was magnificent in the sunlight, like a piece of jewelry designed to dazzle.

“It must be because you survived the realm of the dead.”

“And I sacrificed the tip of my tail,” he said, his eyes dancing. “I think we have a very good chance of fulfilling the prophecy, Petra.”

Her heart clenched tightly. Claiming the firestorm’s promise sounded wonderful to her, but her son had a more immediate plan. She held tightly to Damien as another contraction rolled through her body. He watched in concern, keeping them airborne.

“A mountaintop?” he asked her. “The soft soil of a clearing? Tell me where you want to be, Petra, and I’ll get you there.”

“With the Mothers,” she said softly. Petra opened her eyes and saw immediately that Damien was missing a scale on his chest. She’d never noticed that before, but there was no time to ask him for details.

Petra surveyed their surroundings and was thrilled to recognize the land. “There,” she said, pointing to a peak crested with stones.

“You’re sure?”

“Very sure. We’re near the Mothers, Damien, which is exactly where I had hoped to be.”

He didn’t bother with questions, although she could see his curiosity. He flew toward the peak she’d indicated, moving more quickly and surely than she’d imagined possible. Petra’s chest tightened as she saw the familiar circle of stones cresting the peak, the clearing in the middle thick with green plants.

She directed Damien to the spot and he circled with caution before he landed, checking their safety with care. As he deposited Petra with care on the thick greenery, the ground shifted slightly to one side, startling him.

Petra smiled, having anticipated that the Mothers would take care of her. A spring bubbled from the crack in the ground, trickling beside her.

“But where are the Mothers?” he asked, glancing around himself in confusion.

“All around you,” Petra said, indicating the standing stones that encircled them. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Five

Damien shifted back to his human form in time to watch Petra endure another contraction. It was hard to watch her in such pain, yet he felt lucky to be in her presence. He was amazed that his son might be saved, after all, and terrified that the infant might not survive. It seemed that Petra always prompted a mix of emotions in him, all powerful, all impressive. He watched as Petra clenched her teeth at the pain and he hoped their son would arrive quickly. She was panting when this one was completed, her fingers dug into the moss and sweat on her brow.

Damien tried to distract her with a comment.

“You knew that spring would spout,” he said as he knelt beside her.

“It’s the gift of the Mothers,” Petra said, gesturing again to the circle of stones around them.

Damien barely spared the stones a glance. If she wanted to call stones by a particular name, that was fine by him. He was more concerned that he knew nothing about the arrival of children and they were on an isolated mountaintop.

Surely he couldn’t make another mistake that would cost him Petra?

“This is where you intended to come?” he asked as she caught her breath.

“I thought it superstition that Earthdaughters should give birth in the presence of the Mothers. I thought the rules didn’t apply, not if I’d found a man who was more than a man.”

“But when the baby stilled...”

Petra nodded. “I feared that I’d broken the rules. I tried to come here then.”

Damien took her hand, because he didn’t know what else to do. He tried to hide his concern and speak calmly. “But Petra, we’re on the top of a mountain and I know nothing about the birth of children. Should I find someone to help?”

“The Mothers are here,” Petra said through her teeth. He could tell from her expression that another contraction was coming.

“But...”

Petra cast him a smile. “Look, Damien.
Look
at the forebears of my kind.”

And Damien looked. To his astonishment, he saw faces in the standing stones that surrounded them. Women. Old women. Wise women. Kindly women. As the next contraction ripped through her, Petra gripped his hand hard. Damien saw that the Mothers had moved closer, as if they bent over one of their own. He could see concern in those frozen faces, a concern that hadn’t been there a moment before.

He looked at Petra in amazement.

She laughed a little at him. “You think you have all the marvels?” she teased and he was embarrassed that he had thought as much. “They come out of their stones for a birth,” she said, bracing herself for another contraction. “They ensure that all is well. I can see them and those of my kind can see them.” She spared him a look, then asked a quick question. “Can you see them?”

Damien smiled. “It’s like the stones are melting,” he whispered. “And they’re breaking free of the rock.”

“The Mothers are eternal,” Petra winced.

“But what are they? Why are they like this?” He had to wonder if this would be Petra’s fate, and as much as she held the Mothers in esteem, he hoped not.

“They are Earthdaughters who never met a man who was more than a man.”

Damien’s gaze locked with hers. “And what of those who do?”

Petra smiled tightly. “Who would sacrifice a partnership like ours to become a standing stone?” Damien had only a heartbeat to smile at that, then Petra screamed as the next contraction ripped through her body.

Damien saw the stones move even closer, one bending over Petra on either side. When he narrowed his eyes, he could see the forms of elderly women, their hair grey and their faces lined, their eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages. When he strained his ears, he could hear them murmuring, like pebbles falling into a crevasse.

He knew they were advising Petra, because she nodded and smiled at them, following their instructions. He sat back and simply witnessed the birth of his son, within the circle of the Mothers, so wise and kind and giving.

As Petra finished her contraction, there was a whisper in Damien’s ear.

“Harder,” he said. “Push harder the next time.”

Petra flicked a skeptical glance his way. “I thought you knew nothing about the birth of children.”

He flashed her a confident smile. “The Mothers are teaching me. By the time we have our next son, I’ll be able to help you alone, wherever we are.” He laughed at the shushing of the Mothers, their soft disapproval on all sides. “But I’ll bring you here, even so.” He felt the ripple of their satisfaction, then Petra’s next contraction came.

She pushed and she panted, she screamed when she had to and she held fast to Damien’s hand. The sun had sunk a little lower by the time Damien saw the baby’s head appear, and was dipping low when his son’s lusty cry reverberated from the stony peak.

He was a beautiful hale boy, with hair as blond as honey.

Damien smiled at the sight of him, a survivor of the underworld. Both of them had been touched by their time there. Darkfire had given Damien the most precious gift possible. He washed his son while Petra dozed, and the Mothers slowly returned to their previous positions. He wrapped the baby in Petra’s chiton, beneath the gazes of a circle of roughly hewn grey stones.

Petra opened her eyes then and Damien helped her to clean up. Finally, he tucked their son into her arms, made a fire and wrapped himself around her back for warmth.

“Our
next
son,” Petra repeated. “What makes you think I’ll let you seduce me again?”

Damien laughed. “What makes you think you’ll be able to resist me?” He kissed her soundly then, loving that she met him touch for touch. His breath was coming quickly when he lifted his head, and he grinned down at her even as she frowned.

“Your hair,” she said, reaching up to touch him.

“What about it?”

“It’s pale now, like flax.”

“Like our son’s, you mean.”

Petra looked startled, then checked their son’s head. She met Damien’s gaze in amazement.

“Good thing you had a fair son, or people would think he wasn’t mine.” He pretended to be horrified by the thought and Petra laughed.

“It’s because you escaped the realm of the dead,” she guessed. “It had to leave some mark on you and him.”

“And what about you?”

“I was dead. I belonged there.”

“Until the darkfire gave us a second chance.” Damien held her closer as she traced the tattoo on his upper arm with one fingertip.

“Where did you get this mark? You didn’t have it before.”

“We all got them. It’s called a tattoo and is made with needles and dye.”

Petra peered more closely at the tattoo. “But it’s what you are. A dragon.”

Damien nodded. “The entire legion got them at once. Our nature was the one constant in our world and it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”