Bjorn?!I say desperately now as I reach out to him.Please tell me you have found something!
I can feel my First Drake through our Bloodbond. Exhausted, he’s having trouble staying on his feet, as he and Lærke check out the ancient underground for a better place to hole up. They’ve been at it too long, though; hours we don’t have, as Mikkel swoons again, and Ström catches him for real this time.
Laying him down beside Baldur, to rest.
With a growl, Mikkel protests, but he doesn’t get up. His breaths are labored now, all his myriad scars and barely healed lacerations a testament to everything he’s been through in the past day. It makes his tall runner’s physique with his stark red and black tattoos of raiding ships and sea-dragons across his left chest look like a war zone, as fury saddens me to see all that decimation.
Thanks to his imprisonment and torture by the Jarl of Copenhagen, Mikkel would have died six times over, if Baldur hadn’t poured his energy into my Third Drake to save him.
Now, Baldur pays the price, as he struggles to find enough energy out in the cosmos to keep himself alive after our insane battle against said Jarl, the Black Dragon, and our enemies who wield it, not to mention Baldur’s cursing.
Mikkel is little better, having returned the favor and given almosteverything he had left to heal Baldur of the Black Dragon’s curses. Now, both drakes might not make it, as Ström lays his hands on Mikkel rather than Baldur, giving him all the energy he can spare.
I redouble my efforts upon Baldur and feel the slightest twitch of his finger against my leg, letting me know he’s still with us. As an utter desperation fills me, of not wanting to die this way, my chest compresses and my heart pounds in a jilting, irregular rhythm.
I cough, and Ström puts a hand on me, dredging deep of his incredible Bone Magic to give me whatever he has left.
“Hold on to your heart, Rikyava. Don’t let it fail just yet…” Ström tells me quietly, as he feeds me power so I can stay upright. “Just hold on to your fierce love, for our people and for us. Because we’re all here with you, drakaina. Right here, right now—in it, right along with you. We always will be.”
I know what Ström means, as he locks his vibrant emerald gaze on mine in the haunting hall. He’s telling me my drakes are with me to the end—and after everything we’ve been through in the past months, I know it, as I remove one hand from Baldur to grip Ström’s hand.
His lips quirk into a wry, beautiful smile. It’s everything I need from my best friend in this Bloodbond, as I understand his gratefulness to die beside me, if it comes to that.
The gratefulness all my drakes feel, to battle with me to the end.
“I love you. You know that?” I say now as we hold each other’s gazes in the gloom.
“I know. But don’t say it to me like that. Not just yet…” Leaning in, Ström kisses me, tender and sweet, though our inner dragons are too tired to rise inside us.
Deep within, I feel the barest growl from my dark Bone Magic drake and my brighter Blood Magic drakaina, as Ström and I kiss. They’re too far gone to form the rise in energy that touching my drakes usually provides my Bloodwalker magic, however. It’s a bad sign, as I part from Ström’s lips with a hard sigh.
His sad squeeze on my hand holds everything our words can’t say right now.
His hands are like ice, though; mine are, too, as I fight to feel my fingers and toes now from the deadly cold overtaking them. They’ve gone numb; I rub my heart with both hands, brisking my chest as I renew my heating breath. Because if I die, Baldur will have no one to help.
And if Ström goes, Mikkel will die, too.
As Baldur’s energy goes so far out into the Void that even I can’t find him now, a dark terror consumes me. Still, Ström and I hold on with the last iota of stubbornness we have, because that’s what Blood Dragons do.
We’re not just any Blood Dragons, either; we’re our people’s most elite warriors, as I hear Ström’s fierce growl and feel his renewed determination to fight on. It’s everything I love about him, as I nod to him and he nods back.
Both of us, holding out to the bitter end.
Hold on, Rikyava. I’m coming—with help.
As Bjorn’s voice suddenly breaks into my mind, I hitch a hard sob-laugh, startled. Because it’s exactly what I needed, as I feel my First Drake coming close now, renewed in his vigor, rather than how he was just a few minutes ago.
I’m not Bloodbonded to Lærke, but I can feel her energy through her twin, Mikkel; even she’s more hale now, as she and Bjorn shine more brightly through my Bloodwalker’s senses.
They’re almost back already, somewhere just beyond this gargantuan hall. As a feeling of fullness comes to me, I know they’ve found food, and that both have eaten.
I tune in hard now to Bjorn, feeling how he’s dressed in clothing, rather than the nakedness all dragons are left with after we shift. Better yet, heat surrounds him; relief fills me as I realize he’s got a lit torch to push back the endless chill and dampness of this underground citadel.
As Bjorn and Lærke enter the hall at a brisk trot, their renewed vigor fills me with hope, knowing they’ve found respite down herethat will help us. As I see them coming through the gloom, I finally see Bjorn’s strange, gold-crimson torch, as it blazes into view from behind one of the towering silver-white trees.
Both carry torches, though Lærke’s burns white-green rather than red-gold, as if their torches are powered by their own dragon energy. As they rush back to us, I see Bjorn also has a massive sack slung over his brawny shoulder like some kind of ridiculously sexy, built Santa Claus.
Lærke has a similar one; as they jog towards us through the massive trees, I see they’re both dressed in ancient battle-leathers, though Bjorn is dressed in black and Lærke is in beautiful tawny cream.
