By Fairy Means or Foul: A Starfig Investigations Novel(46)

Was he scared of Burningwood? I’d protect him. If she even looked at him wrong, I would crunch her up, Alphae rules be damned.

“I know you would,” he soothed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. There’s been enough bloodshed for the day.”

That was debatable.

He gave me a playful slap.

“Bloodthirsty dragon.” He said it with affection in his voice and I preened again. “You dropped your knapsack when you shifted. We’ll need it.”

Trotting over to it, I snatched it in my jaws and passed it to him.

Now that Quinn had dispelled the mist, we could both see the path clearly. It wound through the swamp seeming to float on top of the marshy water, so narrow in certain parts that I’d have difficulty staying on it. Then again, I could ford the swamp if need be. I couldn’t imagine a bigger predator in the water than me.

Or perhaps I could fly? I didn’t even consider that. I raised my head and peered over Quinn’s head. My eyes widened.

I had effing fairy wings.

Delicate, and a deep midnight blue with black sparkles. Seriously? I huffed. What kind of dragon had enormous, sparkly fairy wings? If I could have blushed I would have. Quinn turned to see what I stared at.

To give him credit, he didn’t laugh. I felt his amusement, but also concern, through our link.

“It makes you unique,” he offered.

I grunted, a puff of smoke swirling from my nose. I fluttered my wings experimentally. I looked like an oversized butterfly.

“It’s not that bad. You’re still the fiercest dragon I’ve ever seen.”

I sighed. I’m sure he’d seen oh-so-many of us.

He shrugged, the gesture guilty as a harpy in a henhouse. I knew it. I was the only one he’d seen.

“Even so, you’re still plenty fierce. You took out a zombie army. That’s no small feat.”

Yeah, sure, flatter me. Any normal dragon would laugh hysterically if they saw my cute little wings.

“Twig, you’re so much more. Who’d want to be average when you can be extraordinary?” The way he looked at me, like I hung the moons, calmed me a bit.

Okay, so my wings were weird. I flapped them again. The movement was awkward, completely different than the way normal dragon wings functioned. In time, I might get the hang of it. Could I even fly with them? They seemed too delicate to lift my bulk.

Time later to think on all of these other things. We had a sprite to deal with.

Continuing along the trail, I ate up the distance, craning my neck to see above the sparse tree cover. Rumors didn’t prepare me for it. The bleakness of it all; the trees gnarled and misshapen, their bark bleached white. Even the marsh itself seemed unnaturally still, with no sounds of wildlife to be heard as we stepped along the path. Eerie. And sad. What would make a sprite turn to sucking the vitality and life from things?

“The Waters of Ashondrea. She drank from them.”

I startled. Everyone knew the Waters of Ashondrea destroyed one’s soul. The small pool was rumored to be somewhere in Gloomshade Crater. I’d thought it must be a myth.

“No, it’s real. According to Krofom, Burningwood was obsessed with youth. The Waters are supposed to keep one eternally young—did you know that? I didn’t until Krofom told me. Anyway, she willingly gave up her soul for her youth. Or at least, that’s what he said.”

A stab of jealousy sliced me like a knife. Quinn had an in-depth conversation with Krofom. It hadn’t bothered me last night—much—but in this form it really pissed me off.

“Oh, stop. It was just talk. He was the only one who treated me like a person. He must have known I’m a wizard.”

Then Quinn giggled. An honest to goodness giggle. Like a little kid. The excitement and happiness he felt from this revelation rivaled my own thrill at finding out I could shift. I wanted to discuss this with him and how he knew I could do it, except now wasn’t the time. We’d get the horn, get his arm looked at, and then figure things out between us.

“Good idea.”

It wasn’t long before a large manor came into view. As we approached, the ground shifted around us and once again a horde of undead rose from the dirt, that weird green mist descending on us.

Giddy with my new found shape, I enjoyed savagely tearing every last zombie to shreds. I scorched the land in several places, lighting up groups of undead like a pyre. This was so much fun! Quinn didn’t sit it out, either. After a few incantations, the mist evaporated just like last time, leaving the zombies exposed. If I could have chuckled in this form, I would have. I did pull my lips into some semblance of a smile.

Quinn whooped as I stomped all over Burningwood’s guards, egging me on. It felt so good to let my dragon side reign supreme. I hadn’t even realized how much the Alphae restrictions bothered me until now. I mean, the other guilds weren’t required to stick to our inflated moral standards unless they ran afoul of the High Council. Otherwise, they had a lot more options. Besides, it wasn’t like I broke any rules. At the moment. First, they were attacking me, and second, they weren’t living creatures so I didn’t think the ‘do no harm . . . first’ motto applied to them.

Once Burningwood’s defense force lay in a smoldering heap, I roared in triumph. Quinn patted my neck again.

“Good—”

“Who dares enter Rottingvale?” a low, chilling voice said. “Who dares the wrath of Sahara Burningwood?”