Serpent's Kiss: A Dragonfire Novel (38 page)

At the same time, that strange egg-shaped stone began to rock on its end. Chen was immediately distracted by its movement, which gave Thorolf a chance to strike him and tear one of his horns. There was a glimmer of blue-green light, again coming from beneath the stone, then it cracked like an egg.

“No!” Chen cried and threw himself toward the stone.

The rock split in half vertically, the two pieces of stone falling away to reveal a pale and weakened dragon trapped within it. He looked up with dazed eyes and shook at the sight of Chen’s approach. He was faintly gold, as if his color had faded, and he looked so insubstantial that he might have been a ghost.

Without moving the rest of his body, he reached down behind himself to grab something with one claw from beneath the stone. Chandra realized that Chen couldn’t see the move, and she wondered what the dragon had taken. He looked just as vulnerable as before, even fearful as Chen launched himself at the weaker dragon.

“I should have killed you centuries ago,” he spat, and lifted a claw to slash at the smaller dragon. “I shouldn’t have been sentimental.”

The other dragon quaked and cowered, as Chen moved to strike.

But the smaller dragon’s hidden claw plunged suddenly upward, driving something deep into Chen’s gut so hard that black blood spurted all over the pale dragon. A thirst for vengeance shone in his eyes, and he didn’t stop until Chen staggered backward.

A blue-green light pulsed from beneath Chen’s scales then.

“The last darkfire crystal,” he whispered, his disbelief clear.

“Half of it,” the smaller dragon said, driving a second missile into Chen’s eye.

Chen fell back with a scream of pain, his black blood spewing from both wounds.

The released dragon spread his wings and from his joyous expression, Chandra was sure it was the first time he’d been able to do so in a long while. He looked bigger then, and more powerful, the color already returning to his scales.

“You could never bear that Father chose his younger son over you,” he said, his voice louder than she’d expected. “Your pride blinded you to the fact that he knew you weren’t worthy.”

“That’s a lie!” Chen cried. He reached for the dragon who was evidently his brother, but the pale dragon vanished in a glimmer of blue-green light.

“No!” Chen shouted, but even Chandra could taste his despair.

There was a rumble and the crack overhead widened dangerously, chunks of rock beginning to fall into the cavern. Just how far beneath the mountains were they? Chandra shook the bars of her prison, fearing they wouldn’t survive. The floor opened into a massive fissure where Chen’s blood had fallen, as if the mountain had disintegrated beneath it. The crevasse gaped wide, even as
Pyr
and
Slayer
filled the space with fire and smoke.

Chandra fell off her feet when Thorolf’s tail swept her cage from the floor and cast it into the spiral with Lorenzo. Lorenzo might not have all of his
Pyr
powers but he was still a strong dragon. The other
Pyr
ripped open the bars so that she could escape, then cast her through the air. Thorolf caught her with a grin and she saw his scales brighten at the contact. He passed her to his back, and once again, she held on between his wings.

Chen breathed fire, fighting to the last. Thorolf ducked the flames, then drove his head into the
Slayer’
s belly. They fell to the ground in a tangle of talons and tails, then Thorolf bit Chen in the chest. The
Slayer
moaned and writhed, even as Thorolf spit out the chunk. He ripped the
Slayer
open, but Chen continued to fight even as his black blood ran. Thorolf decked him, then locked his claws around Chen’s neck, choking the life out of him. Chen struggled, then he flailed.

“You lose,” Thorolf said, his voice pitched low to beguile. “You lose.”

“You lose,” Lorenzo agreed, from his captivity inside Chen’s spiral. “Thorolf always escapes.”

Chen cried out in anguish. He fought the pair, but his struggles became weaker. He tried to snatch at Thorolf, but his claws simply slid over the
Pyr
’s hide. He tried to smear his blood into the gap in Thorolf’s armor, but he never managed it. He struggled to breathe dragonsmoke, but he didn’t have enough air left to do it. He weakened and faded, looking less vital with every passing second.

“Thorolf always escapes,” he managed to whisper, and Chandra realized the other
Pyr
’s beguiling had found a conviction to exploit.

There was a shimmer of blue light, one that set the falling stone alight, then a topaz yellow dragon appeared in the space. Unless there were two who were very similar, it was the
Slayer
who’d appeared outside the Garden of the Hesperides.

Chen gasped at the sight of him.

The yellow dragon smiled. “Well done,” he said to Lorenzo. “Not exactly as planned, but effective enough.” He landed beside Chen and dipped a talon into the
Slayer
’s guts. He sucked the black blood from it with satisfaction. “They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I like mine still warm.”

“No!” Chen moaned, but it was too late to change his fate.

Jorge bent and bit into Chen’s guts with satisfaction, his move making Chen groan in pain.

“We made a deal,” the golden
Pyr
said with a certain edge.

The yellow
Slayer
laughed, looking up with black blood dripping from his teeth. “Your mistake,” he said, then there was an ominous rumble of stone moving.

The three of them looked up as the ceiling of Chen’s cavern cracked and chunks of stone fell all around them. The fissure in the floor yawned wide and Chandra feared the worst.

* * *

In the city of Bangkok, near the antiquities market, an Asian man suddenly appeared amidst the market stalls. A parrot in a cage squawked in surprise, but no one else seemed to notice. The man’s clothing was unusual, in that it was in the fashion of centuries past. He was pale and looked weak, as if he’d suffered from a long illness. His hair was even white, although his face was unlined. He shook a little as he straightened, but he stood on his feet. There was determination in his eyes.

His gaze dropped to the ground and he bent to carefully pick up a dragon scale. It was the color of moonstone and silver, with a black spiral of a tattoo on it.

“He’ll need this,” he said to no one in particular.

A dark-haired Caucasian man came to stand beside him, his smile so serene that the new arrival found himself smiling back.

After all, they were both
Pyr
.

“Yes, Lee, he will,” that man agreed quietly. He put out his hand. “Let me take you to meet the others.”

* * *

Thorolf burned the spiral surrounding Lorenzo with dragonfire, freeing the other
Pyr
exactly the same way he’d been freed. They exchanged a nod and took flight.

“I’m guessing that wasn’t your plan,”
Thorolf said in old-speak. He was wondering what kind of idiot Lorenzo was to trust Jorge, but the other
Pyr
laughed.

“It was exactly what I knew would happen,” Lorenzo said. He lifted a talon, even as chunks of stone bounced off his shoulder. “A perfectly choreographed performance accommodates every eventuality.”

“I’m ready for Plan B anytime,” Thorolf said, sparing a glance at the falling rock. How were they going to fly out of this place?

There was another of those flickering lights, then an opal salamander gleamed in the dust. He was sitting on the hilt of a sword, his front claw on the Helm of Awe in its pommel.

Thorolf gave a hoot of joy and claimed the sword. Lorenzo snatched at Rafferty as he leapt from the hilt and clutched Thorolf’s claw. The blue shimmer enveloped them as Thorolf told Chandra to hang on.

They were immediately flung through space and time once more.

Thorolf landed with a splash in water that was knee-deep. He could feel the heat of the firestorm behind him. He glanced down at the Avenger of the Aesir in his hand, then back at his mate in her Valkyrie form. She grinned at him as he tested the weight of the sword in his hand.

He remembered the balance of it well and recognized how right it felt in his grip.

There was no sign of Lorenzo and Rafferty, much less of human civilization. They were on a beach somewhere cold, a beach rimmed with snow and ice, a cold blue sky arching overhead.

Thorolf locked hands with Chandra, holding the blade high. He’d been made for this, and he was going to do it right. They exchanged a look, then strode into the water together.

The firestorm lit the surface of the water with golden radiance and filled Thorolf with a welcome heat. He was glad to have Chandra by his side. He hoped she remembered that he couldn’t swim.

The water stretched endlessly in every direction and they were steadily walking in deeper. It wasn’t exactly Thorolf’s idea of fun, but he supposed responsibilities were like that. The seas were far from calm, though, the water churning in the distance.

No, it wasn’t the water churning.

It was the Midgard Serpent approaching. It swam toward them with such purpose that they could have had a date.

Or maybe a destiny.

It was one big snake.

Thorolf was tempted to shift shape, but then, this sword was supposed to be the key to triumph. He couldn’t wield the blade in his dragon form, he wouldn’t even be able to hold it properly.

Human form it would be, even if he felt too small and weak. He flicked a glance toward Chandra and she nodded. He told himself that wasn’t fear in her eyes. She led the Valkyries, after all.

At least she used to.

He had to hope no one would be collecting his corpse anytime soon.

He thought there were probably a few thousand things he should tell her, just in case.

But Jormungand reached them all too soon. The serpent rode the tide toward them, rearing up high overhead. It was covered in silvery blue scales, twice as thick as he was tall, and too long to see completely. Thorolf remembered that it was supposed to wrap all the way around the middle of the earth, holding its tail in its mouth to make a circle. It had clearly given up that job, just to come and trash his butt.

Its mouth had to be fifty feet wide. Even in dragon form, he would have been puny compared to it, and the sword seemed ridiculously small against such a foe. The incoming wave smashed over them and Thorolf only kept his footing with an effort. He refused to freak when he was surrounded by the ocean water, although losing touch with Chandra didn’t help. He struggled upright, dripping wet, and had time to see that Chandra was safely on her feet.

The serpent was focused on him. Jormungand flicked a fin, twisting so that the water swirled around Thorolf and the next wave did pull him off his feet. He heard Chandra shout, but forced his eyes open in the water. He could see the scaled side of the monster and struggled toward it, still holding to the sword.

Why hadn’t he ever learned to swim?

The beast heaved, and Thorolf thought it would slam him into the bottom of the ocean. That might have been its plan. He managed to get out of the way, broke the surface and took a gulp of air. It roared and turned on him, but he deliberately dove into the water.

He had to be nuts. He kicked his feet, heading straight for the bottom. He kept his eyes open even in the murky water. Jormungand has stirred up the sand, making him feel that he was lost in a cup of mud. He saw the flash of scales and these ones were paler.

Could he be so lucky that it was Jormungand’s belly?

Maybe it was softer.

His lungs were screaming for air, his chest aching, but Thorolf was getting used to pain. He kicked again, was right up against the monster’s side, and took his chance.

Thorolf drove the blade into Jormungand. He buried it as deeply as he could, pushing it so that even the hilt was jamming into the flesh.

Jormungand screamed and thrashed. The monster reared back out of the water, carrying Thorolf into the air as he hung on to the sword desperately. He took a deep breath of air, before he was slammed back into the water again. Jormungand fought, like a fish on a line, but Thorolf twisted the blade. He worked the blade in the beast’s side, opening the wound and shoved the sword in farther. Could it go deep enough to kill this beast? His entire arm was inside the monster when he was hauled out of the water again, his skin burning.

This time, Jormungand flopped onto the water, blood running from his wound. It was deep crimson this blood, redder than any Thorolf had ever seen before. It was thicker, too, and ran more like honey than blood. Jormungand thrashed again, twisting so hard that Thorolf’s arm were expelled from the wound in a rush of blood.

He tried to grab for the blade, but it was out of the question. The monster rolled, Thorolf’s hands sliding over his scaled flesh, now covered with blood.

The sword was lost.

Thorolf was flung down so hard that he was left dizzy. To his relief, when the wave receded, he was on his hands and knees in shallow water. Chandra wasn’t far away, judging by the firestorm’s light. He took a couple of quick breaths, then turned, hoping the monster was dead.

Jormungand was covered in blood but still alive. The monster screamed then snatched at Chandra. Thorolf roared and shifted shape, leaping at the serpent in his dragon form. He breathed fire at the beast, then tore at it with his talons. He kicked the beast in the mouth until it spat out Chandra. He snatched her up, then breathed fire again.