Chapter 2 Safe #2
Because Baldur’s curses from the Black Dragon still seethe all the way up his arms to his shoulders, and up both legs to his hips.
It’s gruesome, as I peer beneath the tattered silk sheets, to see those seared, oilslick-black and vicious crimson curses, still simmering deep inside his veins and all over his beautiful white skin.
I know they hurt; I was cursed by the same thing during the attack that killed Maryse, months ago.
Only continuous healing sessions by masterful Blood Dragon healers at the Old Palace saved me.
Along with Bjorn and Strom giving me their fire and strength, even donating blood to sustain me, when it came right down to it.
We don’t have all that available, however, as I consider how we might donate blood into Baldur now, and if it would do any good.
Because unlike when I was cursed, Baldur got the full meal deal from the Black Dragon. Same as Maryse, he had the life-ending heart-curse cast inside him, when he rushed in front of me in his human form, to take the Black Dragon’s last roar, rather than let it take me.
And he’s paid for it. Even though I somehow pulled that heart-curse out of him with my Bloodwalker power, saving him from certain death, I know the rest of these curses still might kill him if they persist. They might kill all of us, as I feel their diseased taint pull hard at my own blood and bones, though our Bloodbond.
Me and the rest of my drakes.
“Well, the honeymoon was nice while it lasted,” I joke with a wry smile now, about how little time Baldur and I were able to spend together, since our Bloodbond a few days ago.
As Bjorn and I slide off the bed, I cuddle into his arms once more, kissing his chest. Bear growling, Bjorn cinches me tighter in his solid embrace, holding me close rather than let me dive into desperation right now.
“At least we can keep Baldur safe. Until we find a better solution for his curses,” Bjorn says, matter-of-fact as he glances down at me, serious.
“Although he’s taking his time out in the Void, the rest of us are feeling more hale.
That’s good enough for now, even though I wish we were doing far better. ”
“I don’t have enough energy to shift yet,” I know as I search my inner dragons, then look up at him. “Do you?”
“No.” Bjorn shakes his head with a slight growl.
“We’ve had a rough go these past few days.
This ancient underground city has been kind to us, however—far better than anything I’d ever hoped.
We have ample fresh water from the fountains, not to mention food from the city’s magical climate-control areas.
Shelter from these rooms and warmth from these fireplaces, plus torches we can take with us as we explore. It’s enough.”
“These barriers are something only Storm Dragons generally have, except at the Crystal Plateau where my friend Dusk Arlohaim is King,” I note now as I gesture at the shimmering barriers all around us.
“Climate-barriers are a lost art among our people, who use Bloodshields now only to cover windows, like up in your Magnussen lands, or create barriers to protect artifacts, like in Strom’s apartments at the Old Palace.
When you and Laerke looked around, was there anything like these barriers acting as fortifications down here at all?
Anything to protect us… if our enemies come calling while we recuperate? ”
“They’re not my Magnussen lands. Not anymore,” Bjorn says automatically, as I mention his homeland.
A frown pinches his level golden brows as he evaluates our situation with me, like a good military commander.
“But you’re right, Rikyava. Though we have our basic needs met here, this place is significantly lacking in military fortification or defenses.
Other than the sigil-locked door we came in by, Laerke and I found nothing as we looked for shelter.
No defense magic of any kind, and no caches of weapons, other than the battle-leathers stored in these vaults.
” He nods at the shimmering barriers, and the silberskrae chests within.
“It’s like the people who lived here relied only on secrecy to keep this place safe.” I nod, just as confused as Bjorn about the point of this city.
Because these underground halls are massive, decked out to the nines, though most of it has gone to rot and ruin. The enormous silberskrae bed here could sleep ten people, despite its threadbare wool mattress and tattered, sky-blue bedding.
Not only that, but everything is ridiculously ornate; as we take in the towering stone vaults all around, I note how the white silberskrae doors and everything else have been lovingly carved with stylized Blood Dragons, inlaid with ancient silver and gold runes.
Ornate stone and silberskrae tables and chaises occupy the gargantuan space, everything done in sky-blue silk and embroidered with silver and gold thread.
In traditional Blood Dragon style, furs decorate the space as well, our classic Celtic-style knotwork carved into every nook and vault.
The entire place looks almost Elvish or Fae, however; I’m not entirely certain our people didn’t team up with some Elves to build this place, though we’re currently baffled by the point of it all.
I’m about to ask Bjorn what he thinks our chances of survival here are, if Litha and the Black Dragon come calling—when Strom suddenly returns. As my Second Drake pushes in through the towering doors, I hear his smooth chuckle, letting me know he’s found something interesting during his time away.
Bjorn and I turn; Strom’s grinning like a fool as I break from my First Drake, excited by whatever he’s found. Lifting an eyebrow, I crack a smile as well, because Strom’s good nature is just that ridiculously infectious, and always has been.
I feel how his energy soars now, despite how tired he still is. Because Strom loves nothing more than a good mystery; the more full of arcane artifacts, the better. If he wasn’t a Jarl-Heir, I’d have thought he might have been a Blood Dragon Indiana Jones or something. And he’s found something now.
Something that warrants this massive smile he’s got.
Despite everything we’ve been through, I feel my spirits rise to Strom’s vast, magnetic joy. It sweeps me as he moves forward and gathers me into his arms; as he melds close, my Second Drake gives me the most ridiculously passionate kiss.
He glorifies in the fact that we’re still alive; not to mention whatever mystery he’s found, which has me heating up hard now with curiosity, alert.
As I feel him become alert in his own way now.
Aroused—and eager to share.