Dragon Song (Dawn of the Dragon Queen Book 1) Page 4

  Guilt rolled off him in waves. He was ashamed of his gift. But Earth Mother did not bestow her magic upon undeserving mortals, so what would make him recoil from this blessing?

  You are an earth speaker. Her thought was laced with shock and awe.

  A chill raced up her spine at the portent of meeting a speaker in the flesh. In days of old, speakers had served as keepers of the peace between dragons and mortals. Dragon royals dared not rule a kingdom without earth speakers to serve as advisors and defenders. When humans decided to end the rule of the dragon, the earth speakers defended their queens until every last speaker was murdered.

  What is happening, Mother? Safina asked again. My legs are cold. Safina splashed the water with her tail.

  Fiona knew her daughter was speaking falsely, for dragon scales could withstand any temperature.

  Hush, child, she said again. Ere I find a way to silence you myself. Then Fiona turned back to the speaker. I thought your kind was vanquished during the time of Feira, Mother of Dragons.

  The old man coursed shaky fingers through his thinning, grey hair. I do not know of other speakers. I do not even understand my powers. Many call me Señor Cortez, but for a long while I have only been Josef, grandfather and laborer.

  Was he in earnest? Fiona arched a brow before unabashedly probing his mind. What she found nearly sucked the air from her lungs: Sorrow, so profound, she knew no ordinary mortal could sustain it. Crying out, Fiona pulled away.

  She pinned him with an iron-eyed glare. Why have you brought us here?

  Josef held out his palms in a defensive gesture. I did not bring you here, mi reina.

  Eyeing him warily, she narrowed her lids to slits. Who did, then?

  Graechen brought you to my shore.

  Do not lie to me, speaker! she bellowed while puffing out her chest and extending her neck to full height. I know your power over water.

  I do not lie. Look into my heart.

  Cringing, Fiona jerked back. She did not wish to visit Josef’s personal demons again. Why did she abandon me? She made a vow.

  His mouth turned a heavy frown. Do you think it’s fair to make Graechen carry the burden of your heartbreak all these years?

  This is not your concern, speaker, she snapped. Do not forget your place. I could burn you to a crisp.

  He did not blink but stared back at her weary-eyed. Finally, he heaved a sigh. Graechen told me the story of Feira, mi reina dragon, and her young, and of the speakers who lost their lives defending them. A strange look crossed his sallow features, and Fiona did not know if he meant to laugh or cry. I promised Graechen I would keep you and your niña safe. Por favor, mi reina, he pleaded. We need you.

  Fiona felt a momentary tug at her heart and then berated herself for her compassion. No good could come from helping mortals.

  But then a flicker of a distant memory kindled within her mind: the story of a dragon whose mate had betrayed her. So distraught was the woman when she’d learned of her husband’s deception that her speaker performed a ritual to sever their bond. No longer was the human tied to his mate’s immortality. No longer was the dragon bound to a deceiver.

  Smoke poured from Fiona’s snout, and her chest heaved. How strong are your powers, earth speaker?

  The speaker stepped back as he warily eyed Fiona. Why, mi reina?

  Fiona leaned forward, eyeing the man intently. Can you sever a bond between a dragon and her mate?

  Ay Dios Mio. He took another step back, holding out his hands. The severance of souls takes a dark magic. It is dangerous.

  Fiona bore down on him with a scowl. That is a risk I am willing to take.

  Chapter Five

  Fiona couldn’t help but be awestruck. So much of the world had changed. Josef had told her of huge moving beasts called trains and boats that traveled with neither oar nor sail but powered by steam and coal. He told her of the telegraph and the telephone and of newspapers, too.

  Then he had given Safina and Fiona pale dresses made from soft cotton and heavy soles called shoes with laces and hooks. After they trudged through a town lit with lights whose flames flickered without fire, Fiona was mesmerized by the trolley, which was far bigger than any cart and needed no horse to move. Josef brought them to Mrs. Jenkens, a portly woman whose wooden home was raised up on stilts above the sandy shore.

  Mrs. Jenkens and Josef had briefly spoken in a cooking room called the kitchen. After they’d returned, Mrs. Jenkens’s eyes were red and swollen. Despair and grief clung to the woman’s heavy frame like a shroud. She bade them all to sit as she handed them clear goblets of a heavenly drink called lemonade.

  When Josef took his leave, promising he’d call on the morrow, Fiona tried her best to stifle her fear. She knew she needed to be strong and not just for herself.

  She stole a sideways glance at Safina, still in awe at the changes in her daughter. Whereas before she had been awkward with long, lean legs and the chest of a lad, she’d matured into a beautiful young woman with soft curves, a mass of flaming red hair, and a dazzling smile. Those eyes were pale blue, just like her father’s. Fiona swallowed a lump of regret, pushing her sorrow to the recesses of her mind. It would do no good to think of Duncan now.

  “I will have you both know I am a Christian woman,” Mrs. Jenkens said as she heaved her body onto a cushioned bench.

  “Of course.” Fiona nodded at the buxom matron while she sipped her drink.

  They sat facing each other on furniture draped in embroidered satin in a room Mrs. Jenkens had referred to as the parlor. The walls were covered in flower murals and much of the room was decorated with fine vases and glass cabinets. Josef had said Mrs. Jenkens was a commoner, yet Fiona felt as if she was seated in a house of royalty. She wondered if these Americans, as Josef had called them, appreciated the luxuries that time and prosperity had afforded them.

  “This is a family establishment,” Mrs. Jenkens continued, wagging a finger at Fiona and Safina. Then she pointed toward the stairwell with railings and steps in a rich mahogany. “I expect everyone to be tucked in bed by nine o’clock. And no male visitors for either of you.”

  Safina, seemingly unperturbed, swallowed her lemonade in large gulps before dragging her sleeve across her lips. Fiona scowled at her daughter. She still had the manners of a child.

  “Trust me.” Fiona smiled sweetly at Mrs. Jenkens. “You need not worry about that.”

  Mrs. Jenkens uncrossed her arms and reached for her lemonade. She held her goblet for a long moment, staring down at the frothy yellow drink. Heavy lines framed her red-rimmed eyes. “Of course, Señor Cortez is always welcome to visit. Like I said before, I’m a God-fearing woman. I believe in angels and miracles… and devils, too.”

  Fiona was nearly compelled to look away when the old woman shot her a pointed look.

  “Señor Cortez healed my granddaughter, Abby, when she was sick last winter.” Mrs. Jenkens’s voice broke, and she covered her mouth with one hand.

  Fiona said nothing, allowing the woman time to regain her composure. Seemingly oblivious to the old woman’s turmoil, Safina belched into her palm before tapping an annoying staccato on the rim of her goblet. Fiona gently nudged her daughter before turning her attention back to the old woman.

  Mrs. Jenkens wiped her moist eyes. “Abby’s sainted mother and father, God rest their souls, died of yellow fever when Abby was just a tot. I have raised her since then. This child has been my whole world.”

  Fiona nodded as a pang pierced her heart. “I can imagine.” Safina had been Fiona’s whole world, too. For the past five hundred years, Fiona has taken extreme measures to keep her daughter safe, not just from the mortal world but from the man who’d sired her.

  Mrs. Jenkens set her lemonade on an ornate wooden stand beside her. With a rigid back and a glint of determination in her eyes, she turned to Fiona. “Señor Cortez said you’re a healer, too. Said your healing powers are far stronger than his.”

  Fiona shook her head as a knot of dread settled
in her stomach. “I have not healed anyone in a long while.”

  The old woman clenched her fists in her lap and leaned toward Fiona. “Señor Cortez told me you and your child were robbed on the journey from Scotland. Said you came to America with nothing.”

  Fiona swallowed. “Aye, ’tis true.” That was the lie Josef had concocted. Mrs. Jenkens would hardly believe Fiona and Safina had fled to warmer waters five-hundred years ago, and have been sleeping beneath the sea ever since. Fiona didn’t fear Mrs. Jenkens would doubt her story. The old woman was in need and willing to believe anything, so long as Fiona helped her.

  Mrs. Jenkens shifted in her seat, but her hard gaze did not waver. If anything, she looked even more determined. “I have a bedroom facing the pier. Rents for eleven dollars a month. I’d give it to you for free, plus meals, if you could heal my Abby.”

  Fiona arched a brow. “She is unwell?”

  The old woman abruptly stood and paced across the parlor. She wrapped herself in a hug while staring out the window. “She was playing with friends at the pier when she fell.” Mrs. Jenkens’s voice broke, and it took several interminable moments for her to regain her composure. “It has been three days. She barely wakes and mumbles words that make no sense. Sometimes she calls for her mama and papa.” She ended on a sob, covering her face with her hands.

  The woman’s keen suffering was palpable, her sorrow radiating across the room.

  When Safina trembled beside her, Fiona placed a calming hand on her arm. Peace, daughter. All will be well, she spoke in thought before rising and bridging the short distance between her and Mrs. Jenkens.

  The old woman looked at her with pleading eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Please save my Abby.”

  Fiona heaved a resonant sigh and looked out the window. Though the sun had nearly set, there were several young women frolicking in the waves, splashing each other and laughing merrily. An amorous couple strolled along the shoreline, arm in arm, with eyes for none but each other. A young mother and father held the hands of a small child; she squealed her delight and kicked her legs as they lifted her over each wave. These people of Galveston, they seemed not as austere as the mortals she’d encountered in the old world. Perhaps humans had changed. But did Fiona dare to hope they’d be more accepting of dragon kind?

  Fiona turned back to Mrs. Jenkens. “I understand you are a God-fearing woman. Where we come from, many people looked upon my healing powers as devil’s magic.”

  Mrs. Jenkens nodded solemnly as she dabbed her eyes with an embroidered cloth. “I know that, and some here would, too. Señor Cortez says you’re not a witch, and I trust him.”

  The tension coiled around Fiona’s spine eased ever so slightly. Perhaps she could count on a few friends in this new world. Besides, Fiona realized she’d have no choice but to save the girl. She needed Mrs. Jenkens’s help, at least until after Josef had severed her bond with Duncan. This woman and her granddaughter could teach Fiona and Safina to adapt to their customs. Much had changed since they’d gone to slumber.

  “Where is Abby?” Fiona asked.

  “Sealy Hospital.” The woman’s bottom lip trembled. “The doctor says she may never wake.”

  Fiona leveled Mrs. Jenkens with a stern look. “If I heal your granddaughter, do I have your word that you will tell no one of my powers?”

  Mrs. Jenkens’s eyes lit up as she raised one hand while crossing her heart with the other. “Cross my heart, and may the Good Lord strike me down if I do.”

  Fiona’s shoulders fell as reality struck her. There was no turning back once she exposed her powers to these mortals. “Take me to her. I will see what I can do.”

  The palpable tension which thrummed off the old woman’s flesh seemed to slowly dissipate as she released a shaky breath. “Visiting hours are over for the day, but after breakfast tomorrow, we will go see my Abby.” She flashed each of them a tired smile. “You both look road weary.”

  “Indeed.” Fiona nodded. “We are.”

  Mrs. Jenkens clasped her hands in front of her. “I’ll run your bathwater and fix you hot meals. You and your daughter are about my Abby’s size. I’ll get you both clean clothes.”

  “Thank you.” Fiona smiled. “You are too kind.” She shot Safina a look, and she offered her thanks as well.

  Mrs. Jenkens hurried to the opposite end of the parlor. She paused at the threshold, her wide, watery gaze boring into Fiona. “You must heal my Abby. Without her, I’ve got no reason, no reason at all….”

  Fiona held up a silencing palm. “Please, Mrs. Jenkens. Do not fret. Come the morrow, I will heal the child.”

  Mrs. Jenkens wiped her tear-stained cheeks while managing a smile. “Thank you, Fiona. An angel from heaven, you are. The Lord has sent you here for a reason, I just know it.”

  Aye, Fiona thought to herself. She had come for a reason, though she would not voice aloud that her purpose here was far different from what Mrs. Jenkens had in mind.

  Chapter Six

  Scotland – 1429

  “Dragonslayer?” The knight tilted back his head and laughed.

  Anger flushed Fiona’s chest and infused her cheeks. He thought her mad, just like all the other knights. Amazing how quickly these mortals were inclined to forget that beasties and monsters had ruled the earth only a few centuries past.

  Stroking his bushy black beard with grimy fingers, he looked down at her with a condescending smile. “Why would a pretty wench worry herself over dragons? ’Tis stuff of fantasy.” Then his eyes darkened as he leaned closer, latching onto her wrist with a meaty claw. “If ye need someone to chase away yer nightmares”—his garbled voice dropped to a hoarse whisper—“I could warm yer bed tonight.”

  Fiona nearly gagged from the stench of stale brew on his breath. Jerking her arm free, she narrowed her eyes to slits. “Nay, knight, go warm another pint of ale instead.”

  Raucous laughter erupted directly behind her.

  Fiona’s attention snapped to the knight’s companions. She had thought there were two of them, but their numbers had swelled to five. And they no longer huddled in the darkened corner of the smoky tavern but swarmed around her like bees to a hive.

  An involuntary shiver coursed through her. She did not like the feral gleam in their eyes or the strong scent of lust radiating off them.

  Instinctively, Fiona’s lips curled back in a snarl.

  They laughed harder, their flesh now pulsating with need.

  Fiona knew they planned to use her, whether she were willing or not. She cursed herself a fool for coming to the tavern this night, but she was hoping one among their number would have claimed to be the dragonslayer.

  But these were just drunk fools bent on one sordid purpose.

  For six years she had struggled to keep her true form a secret. Although she would feel no remorse in ripping these men to shreds, she did not want to expose herself now.

  The dragonslayer was near. She knew it. She could feel it in the marrow of her bones.

  “Come now, wench.” The tallest of the knights, with a long, thin white beard and a gaunt face, leaned over Fiona. Twisting a wad of her skirt in his hand, he spoke against her cheek with stale, hot breath. “I be not a dragonslayer, but I pack a big spear if ye like.”

  “Leave me before I hurt you,” Fiona spoke on a growl.

  He laughed, though his sunken orbs darkened with forewarning of foul deeds. Still clutching the fabric of her skirt, he yanked Fiona off her stool.

  The air whooshed from her lungs as she slammed against his chest. Grasping his lean, taut shoulders, Fiona fought the panic that tied a knot in her throat. She had to find another means of escape. She’d come too far to reveal her secret, but she knew not how to escape these men in her mortal body. She’d only had to rely on her human form for persuasion. Why fight as a girl when a dragon was so much more powerful?

  With no other options before her, Fiona resorted to the only means available to a weak female. “Please let me go,” she pleaded, batting l
ong lashes at her brutish captor.

  A low, ominous rumble broke from his chest. “I will when we’re finished with ye, wench.” Digging his hooks into her slender forearms, the knight pulled her up the length of his chest, and in the next second, his hard mouth came crashing down on hers.

  She tried to scream, but his suffocating kiss would not give her breath to make a sound.

  She knew she’d run out of options.

  Heart beating wildly, she braced herself for the change. Beneath her flesh, muscles coiled, bones ached, as she prepared to break free of her mortal skin.

  ’Twas when her body was on the precipice of transformation that a booming command shook the stagnant air of the small tavern. “Leave her be!”

  The knight broke the kiss in an instant, dropping Fiona as if she were no more than a discarded ragdoll. She stumbled back, nearly falling on her backside, but she was caught by firm hands that captured her waist.

  Gasping for breath, Fiona was momentarily disoriented.

  When the strong hands holding her roved to her breasts, she elbowed the man in the ribcage. Howling, he released her, but she escaped that captor only to be caught in the grip of another drunken knight.

  She hadn’t seen her rescuer come to her aid until she was shoved onto a table. Fiona came to her knees, bracing herself for another attack, but the offending knights were now in the midst of a brawl.

  Against one man.

  Jaw dropping, Fiona watched with amazement as the man wielded a sword with all the skill of a seasoned knight, although his tattered woolen tunic and mud-stained trews indicated he was most likely a farmer.

  The barmaid stood behind the barkeep, screaming, while he swung open the heavy wooden door of the front entrance. A rush of cool night air ruffled Fiona’s hair and chilled the nape of her neck. The door thudded closed behind them, and Fiona turned her attention back to the brawl.

  Two men were down. Another staggered in front of her before falling on top of the table, his face buried in her skirt. Fiona grabbed a tankard and banged it across his skull. He slipped to the floor with a satisfying thud.