Verdant Magic: A Standalone Dragon Shifter Adventure (Dragon Mage Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  But duty called. So he pushed his brother back another step then turned the drunken shifter around to face the ongoing game. “You throw.”

  Sidetracked, Nicholas attempted to pluck the slippery white ball out of the recently emptied mug. But hands didn’t quite go where he told them to and the shifter ended up toppling the neighboring mug—brimful of beer—in its place.

  “No fair!” Alexander howled again. “More beer for the cheater!”

  Cheers followed his words, someone turned the stereo up yet louder, and a sailor leapt to his feet to fill the empty at a party-sized keg waiting in one corner of the room. Meanwhile, Zane padded over to the opposite wall, pulled down a recently stowed bunk, and seated himself on the very edge.

  It was hard not to visualize the earth witch who currently rested on a mattress very much like this one directly above his head. Hard not to wish he could forgo his responsibilities just for a little while and curl around her luscious form before following her into apple-scented slumber.

  But he was a dragon, a hunter. And his prey was here. So here Zane would stay.

  From across the room, Baine met his eyes. Then, slowly, the dark-haired shifter smiled. “Let me tell you all a story....”

  Chapter 20

  Amber woke to a pounding on the door and a swaying of the ship that made her vaguely ill. The space beside her was empty and cold, the cabin pitch black. Zane was gone.

  “Who’s there?” she called.

  Her emotions had been stripped bare by the previous night’s encounter, her mind chaffed raw from the intensity of Zane’s outpouring of secrets. In the moment, she’d felt so connected that it was difficult to remember where her personhood ended and his began.

  And yet...Zane’s brother had murdered her parents. What would Momma and Poppa think to see their daughter clasped—no matter how chastely—in a dragon’s loving arms?

  Perhaps that’s why Amber had accepted everything Zane offered, had soaked up his secrets one by one. And yet...even in the heat of the moment, she’d somehow resisted the urge to share her own.

  Fingers rose to clutch at Momma’s memory locket, the trinket still firmly seated at the hollow of her throat. Relief came first before being immediately overshadowed by an intense stab of guilt. Zane might have left her alone without a farewell, but he still deserved to know....

  “It’s Sabrina.” The captain’s terse voice was muffled by its location on the other side of the door, but her words broke through Amber’s regrets nonetheless. “Are you decent?”

  Before Amber could reply, the bed tilted beneath her butt and she half rolled and half rose to her feet. Secrets could wait. There was something seriously wrong if Sabrina was knocking on passenger doors during the wee hours of the night. And, luckily, Amber had never shed so much as a single item of clothing the evening before, so she was very much decent now.

  Haste and darkness made her clumsy, though. She stubbed one toe on a..something?...and banged the opposite shoulder against another dark shape while making her way across the tiny room. Then, after finally reaching and opening the door, the passageway appeared just as dark as the space she’d left behind.

  Doesn’t the Intrepid own electric lights for nighttime visibility?

  The sharp scent of kerosene answered her question. Then a curse emanated from the captain as a lantern sprang to life. “This thing is dangerous as a match in a powder keg,” the other woman warned before handing over the offending article.

  Amber’s fingers clenched around the metal handle and for a moment she stood staring at Sabrina’s receding shoulder blades while sleep continued to fuzz her slow-moving brain. “What’s going on?” she asked belatedly, catching up at the first ladder leading down. They were following the same path that young sailor had led the passengers along earlier. Past the crew quarters—now full of chainsaw-level snoring—and deeper yet into the belly of the ship.

  “Storm,” Sabrina said curtly. “And every single member of my crew is too drunk to fly.” Amber couldn’t see the other woman’s face, but her words broadcast frustration and anger perfectly well. Sabrina was pissed.

  “The dragons?”

  “I’m not asking favors from dragons.”

  They’d reached the final hatchway now, the opening before them leading down into pitch blackness. Then lightning illuminated the sky and Amber gasped. The ship was so close to the ground that observation-bubble glass brushed the twigs of the highest treetops. All it would take was one ambitious kudzu vine and the entire structure would shatter in an instant.

  “Should we be flying this low?” she asked tentatively, turning down the gas in her lantern so only the tiniest glimmer remained. After all, she might be an earth witch, but the Green detested fire more than it loved the Watcher’s ability to communicate. No reason to tempt fate.

  So that’s why the ship’s electrical system was powered down, she realized as she peered downward at the crowns of passing trees. Usually, Amber was able to find something to love about every spark of floral life. But these dark blobs appeared monstrous as they stretched pointy fingers closer and closer to the fragile airship. The entirety of the Intrepid must be shrouded in darkness save this one small lantern...and for good reason.

  “We have to find cover,” Sabrina countered, ignoring the sickening screech as a stag’s head tree ripped at the ship’s underbelly with sharp, dead branches. “Will you help me?”

  “Of course. But how...?”

  Then her words faded into wonder as the captain stepped off the decking into midair. The other woman didn’t leap down into the ladderless hold the way the young sailor had done. And she didn’t climb down rungs of metal like the passengers who had followed in the boy’s wake either. Instead, Sabrina merely jogged down an invisible incline as if air had turned solid beneath her feet. Then, at the bottom, she looked up at Amber and raised both brows.

  “With magic, of course,” the wind witch replied.

  ***

  The small room swirled with secrets. But the storm was closing in fast, the airship not so much swaying as bobbing in a sea of lashing winds.

  “I can hold us steady for a little while,” Sabrina said, her face tense in the dancing shadows of lantern light. “But it’s going to get worse before it gets better and I can’t keep the ship together in a gale. We need to find shelter.”

  “A canyon?” Amber asked to make sure she understood. She was already kneeling atop the transparent floor, her fingers twitching toward the latch that would open a great gaping hole into the night. If she managed to grab onto one of those passing branches long enough to commune with the Green, she’d be able to seek out a hidey-hole where they could all weather the storm in safety. She’d just have to make sure she didn’t tumble to her death in the process....

  “A cliff works too. Or even a deep valley.” Then Sabrina was yanking Amber’s hand away from the trap door before she could fling it open. “Whoa, there. Not so fast. Let’s tie you off first.”

  Good thing the airship captain was significantly better than Amber was at knotwork. In short order, the latter had been lashed into a sort of harness that was in turn bound to a metal cleat on the wall behind her back. The lantern’s wick was twisted all the way down until the light blew out. Then two witches sat cross-legged on the floor in silence, the roar of wind even more obvious as their eyes slowly adjusted to the stormy night’s complete lack of illumination.

  “Give yourself a minute to get your bearings,” Sabrina said, the words no less a command for all they were quiet. For a moment, Amber wondered how her companion had managed to swing captaincy of a ship at such a young age. Did her crew know about the secret she’d so readily revealed to a fellow magic practitioner yet was intent upon hiding from her draconic employers?

  Topics for later discussion, the Watcher chided herself. Aloud, she merely offered: “I’m ready.”

  Then air gusted into the observation bubble as the hatch slid to one side without being touched by human hands. The wind s
melled of wet and storm and plants, the mere proximity of the Green buoying Amber up.

  Drawn relentlessly to the seductive power source, she lay down upon her belly and inched forward until her entire torso was exposed to open air. Warm hands settled around her ankles, promising to hold her in place despite the storm nearing tempest levels below and around her.

  “Wait until we stop!” Sabrina cried.

  Amber could barely make out the captain’s words over the wind roaring in her ears. Which made it easy to pretend she hadn’t heard as she reached down, down, down until wet leaves slapped against grasping fingertips.

  Each touch provided a burst of instantaneous connection, a top-up for her dwindling stores. Within moments her belly was so full of earth magic that she felt like she was flying.

  Okay, so she was literally flying too. But drifting beneath a swollen hydrogen balloon was nothing compared to this sensation of swooping over the treetops of her own volition, the immense power promised by the Green causing her to laugh out loud.

  Then air abruptly went still. Pellets of water that had formerly pounded sideways in stinging blows against face and arms turned into gentle droplets falling directly out of the pitch-dark sky. With wind gone, she was shielded from the rain, drips from observation-bubble glass only intermittently making contact with her skin.

  The eye of the storm.

  If she hadn’t boasted a wind-witch partner, Amber would have been scrambling back into the ship as quickly as her feet would carry her. Because a super-calm center usually meant even worse trouble waiting on the other side.

  Now, though, she merely lay in the beating rain and breathed in the tranquility of magic-infused quiet. For a moment, Amber could imagine she was outside her little cabin back home, basking in a summer thunderstorm as raindrops rolled off her skin and fed the earth below. She was as peaceful as a well-watered seedling, no human thoughts intruding upon her momentary meditation at all.

  The Intrepid drifted for several seconds as Amber reveled in the damp night air. Then the ship slowed to a halt directly above a massive shape that materialized into a windswept mother oak.

  “Perfect,” the Watcher breathed aloud, unsure whether the words were meant for herself or for the wind witch still sitting upon her feet. A tree this old would know every nook and cranny of the forest. As long as the aged being was willing to relinquish its secrets, their dirigible was home free.

  To that end, Amber thrust both arms deep into the scratchy greenery. Immediately, soft lichen hyphae crept away from their bark-side anchors to tap into her skin. A spider crawled across one finger while a snail slimed a sensuous pathway into the indented hollow at the palm of her hand.

  Meanwhile, the Green itself moaned into her ear. Long, long, long.

  It had missed her. Thirty-six hours was more time than Amber had ever spent out of contact with the earth, and even this far-flung forest had noted her absence.

  “I’m here now,” she soothed. For a moment, she remembered other responsibilities she’d allowed to fly out of her head at the first touch of her dragon shifter’s magical fingers the night before. Was Thea sleeping soundly on the floor of Jasmine’s room? Was her apprentice lying awake, worried about the storm?

  Girl and goat would have to wait, though. Because Amber’s most pressing goal was to remind the forest that she still kept its best interests close to her heart. “I’m listening,” she murmured aloud.

  Rain, rain, rain, the forest answered, sounding happier now that its fears had been acknowledged. A summer storm was always appreciated by the Green, rivulets of water sinking down toward thirsty roots and moistening soil baked hard by the pounding sun. So far, only enough moisture had fallen to dampen the uppermost layer of fallen leaves. But salamanders were already busy crawling through the night and hard seed coats were swelling in preparation for the deluge soon to come. The Green—and Amber by proxy—was ready to embrace the coming wet.

  “Plenty of rain,” Amber answered, hoping she was right. “But I need a little help first. A protected harbor for a ship to moor....”

  The Green wasn’t big on words, so she visualized what she wanted instead of speaking further. A sheltered cove where treetops failed to sway during even the heaviest winds. A wide open space large enough for the Intrepid to berth without crashing into nearby branches. Safe passage to get there, safe mooring for her ship until the current storm had passed.

  Fire, the Green complained. It could feel the sleeping shifters above her head. Could sense their banked flames despite heavy slumber. The forest didn’t want to welcome dragons within its domain, would rather have ripped them from the air and buried them deep beneath the soil where they were incapable of harming man or beast.

  For a moment, Amber shared the forest’s dread. She shivered at the thought of a moon-marked murderer resting no more than a hundred feet away. Was Zane keeping his blood brother close to guard against offensive action? Or had he brushed off her concerns as easily as he’d crept away from her bed hours earlier?

  Trust is a two-way street, she reminded herself and the Green both. I vouch for this ship. Do you trust me not to lead you astray?

  The forest might not have been so willing had Amber not spent the last day and a half with feet far from the earth. But as it was, Green had missed its Watcher. The network of sentience had longed for Amber’s gentle presence atop its sponge-soft soil.

  So, eventually, it shrugged and obeyed.

  A valley. Closely encircling hillsides. A clearing at the center where a canopy fire had wiped out all growth three years prior. Just long enough ago for rot to topple the dead tree trunks left standing in its wake. Not so long that new trees had fully colonized the opening and closed off access to the sky above.

  “Thank you,” Amber whispered. She brushed her cheek against damp leaves, felt the hard bumps of next year’s acorns studding woody stems. For a second, she ached to yank herself free of this airborne ship and clamber down into the sea of sentience that she’d missed as much as the Green had missed her.

  But, instead, she wriggled backward on her belly until she was once more safely inside the vessel that housed her friends. Waiting until Sabrina pulled the hatch closed, she sat back on her heels then looked the wind witch directly in the eye as she spoke. “I know where to go.”

  Chapter 21

  Zane’s neck was so sore, he might as well have spent the night sitting up. No, that was last night, he reminded himself. Last night when he’d drifted in and out of sleep for eight long hours while wedged into a hard wooden chair by the side of his apple-scented earth witch.

  So...why was he upright now rather than flat on his back on a mattress, either in his own cabin or by the side of the enticing woman who was quickly wriggling her way into his heart?

  Beer. Hops and ethanol and unwashed sailor. He wrinkled up his nose as unpleasant odors assaulted his super-sensitive shifter nostrils. Yuck. No, he definitely wasn’t watching over Amber if the all-encompassing tang of bar brawl was any indication.

  And along with those aromas, the events of the previous evening slowly trickled back into his foggy brain as well. Beer pong and brothers. Howling laughter and manly boasting.

  Then Baine’s smooth voice drifting over the revelry. “Let me tell you all a story....”

  “Shit!”

  Zane was on his feet, eyes wide and teeth clenched, as soon as the memory struck. There’d been more to his brother’s tale than that simple opening suggested, but subsequent words had slipped through holes in his brain like silver-sided minnows evading a fisherman’s net. One moment they were close enough to grab...the next, they were gone.

  But in the end, it didn’t really matter what Baine had said. It mattered what his slippery twin had done.

  “That bastard used glamour on me,” he growled. Felled by his own knack—the choice of weapon was painfully ironic. And, from the looks of the berthing gallery, Baine had also taken down every other male aboard the Intrepid in one fell swoop.


  Around him, sailors drooled and coughed and snorted. A few had ended up with heads resting against hard tabletop, but others were less lucky. An uncomfortable heap on the floor boasted enough arms and legs to man the entire ship, and Zane was pretty sure he caught sight of Charlie’s beak-like nose sticking out of the far side of that unintentional cuddle pile.

  His siblings didn’t look to be in much better shape. Nicholas had nearly drowned when his head landed in a brimming mug of beer while Alexander had managed to drape himself over the seat of a chair in a painful-looking back bend. That was definitely going to provoke serious aches and pains in the very near future.

  For half a second, Zane allowed himself to imagine venting his rage on inanimate objects and siblings alike. Oh, he wouldn’t actually punch his brothers. He’d just kick chairs out from under shifter butts and see whether Nicholas and Alexander managed to wake up before heads cracked against rock-hard decking. The clowns had spent hours in Baine’s presence and hadn’t realized the dark dragon boasted glamour just like Zane’s own?

  But it wasn’t fair to punish others for his own mistakes. And there wasn’t time to go on a rampage anyway since their enemy was now loose upon the ship with no bodyguards to stand between himself and whatever trickery the murderer had managed to dream up. So, instead, Zane shook his foster brothers gently, then harder, until both shifters came groggily awake.

  “Wow, that’s some hangover,” Alexander muttered, holding onto his head as if unsure whether it would spin off into the corner if he dared to let go.

  For his part, Nicholas appeared to be a hair’s breadth away from puking. But the dour twin understood the implications of their unusual surroundings far more quickly than his blood brother did. “Where’s Baine?” he demanded.

  Although the golden shifter’s thoughts had been traveling down a similar track, hearing the question voiced aloud sent a shiver racing down his spine. Because Baine wasn’t the only one missing from the tableau before them. The moon-marked dragon had very cleverly gathered every single one of the ship’s males here in the berthing gallery to trick into magic-fueled slumber...but where were all the women?