Dragon Storm
Page 3
“Constantine,” Ysolde said in a distinctly chiding tone of voice. Constantine did not care for it at all. “I can’t believe you’d be such a coward.”
“Coward?” he asked on a gasp of disbelief. “Me?”
Ysolde brushed a bit of lint from her sleeve. “Well, what else am I to think when you, a brave and heroic dragon who has sworn himself to my eternal service, won’t even do this one simple little task for me?”
“If you think such ridiculous statements are going to bait me into jumping to your command, you are mistaken,” Constantine said dryly, but despite that, he began to seriously consider her request. He didn’t want to do it for a number of reasons, but he had to admit that when he reached the state where the high point of his day was irritating Baltic, he should reassess his life plan. Perhaps a little adventure would be just what he needed to shake himself of the sense of gloom that pervaded him of late. “You say this talisman belongs to Asmodeus?”
“Yes. He’s the head of Abaddon, isn’t he?”
“So I’ve heard.” He thought about that for a few moments. “Asmodeus is sure to be in Abaddon.”
“I assume so.”
“I don’t like going to Abaddon,” he said slowly, still considering the idea.
“Really?” Ysolde looked mildly curious as she picked up Alduin. “I’ve never been there, myself. Baltic always said that the demons of hell—sorry, Abaddon—don’t like to mess with dragonkin, so I didn’t think we had much to worry about. Other than the curse, of course.”
“It’s not for that reason—” Constantine stopped himself from continuing. It would do little good to explain his preferences to her. “All I would need to do is find this object, a talisman? Is there one in particular, or will any item do?”
Ysolde pulled a strand of her blond hair from her child’s sticky grip. “I think it’s safe to say you can get anything that suits the bill.”
“Which means any object of a personal nature to the being in question.” Constantine thought about this. He added, more speaking aloud to himself than to her, “I suppose I could get in Asmodeus’s palace and find an object quickly enough. I wouldn’t have to spend any time in Abaddon, not that—” He remembered he wasn’t alone, and once again bit down on his words. With a brief nod at Ysolde, he added, “Very well. I will undertake this quest for you, my beloved former mate. But only because I live for you.”
“Oh, you do not. One day you’ll meet a lovely woman who will make you forget all about me.”
“Never will the sun set on a day in which I do not spend my time devoted to your welfare,” he said, suitably dramatically. He thought of striking a noble yet humble pose, but she was watching her child at that moment, and he hated to waste a good pose.
“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes briefly. “I’d think that bringing about the end of the curse would be reward enough without the dramatic declarations. Just the thought of having the world be a normal place with all the septs able to talk to each other again, and no one at war, would be heaven compared to how things are now.”
Slowly, so Ysolde would not notice, Constantine nudged the deflated sheep behind him. “I will pack my things. Where must I go to accomplish this burdensome task?”
“Pack?” Ysolde looked amused and curious at the same time. “I didn’t know ghosts had luggage.”
“Of course we do.” He waited until she was looking at Alduin before snatching up the sheep, and holding it behind his back. “We have need of things just the same as you do. I wear clothing, do I not? I must shave, and bathe, or I would be unpleasant to be around.”
“Yes, but you’re a spirit. You can wear the same thing every day if you like, and I doubt if you’d stink if you didn’t take a bath.”
He pulled himself up to his full height, and shook his finger at her. Unfortunately, it was the hand holding the sheep, which baaed forlornly before he jerked his arm behind his back again. “Just because I’m a spirit does not mean I wish to appear unfashionable or be unclean!”
Ysolde giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course you must pack your clothes and…” She glanced at his arm. “… accessories if it makes you feel better.”
“You did not answer the question of where I must go in order to accomplish this mission.”
“You are the cutest sticky child in the world,” Ysolde said to her son when he started to sing in a high, singsong voice. “Hmm? Oh, the Charmer is evidently in Paris, so it’s probably best if you get into Asmodeus’s palace by one of the European entrances.”
“Evidently?” Constantine picked out a word that made him frown. “Do you not know for certain where the Charmer is?”
“I don’t know the Charmer personally—this is just what was passed on to me.” She dropped a kiss on her son’s head and started toward the door. “Thank you so much for doing this, Constantine. I would tell you how much I appreciate it, but it’s so much more than just my wishes that’re at stake here. You’ll free all the dragons, and be a hero forever. All right, my darling, it’s the bathtub for you…”
Constantine’s frown grew darker as he absently watched the love of his life leave the room, his thoughts, for once, not on his own grievances, but instead reaching back in time to his youth. “I wouldn’t do it if Bael were not safely confined in the Akashic Plain,” he said softly to himself. “But as he is, and has no way to get out, then I will act the hero. I will save the dragonkin. I will take my place in the annals of modern dragon history. I will do this for the glory of the silver dragons.”
With a little nod at his noble intentions, he took the sheep to his bedroom, already planning the items he would need on the trip. It didn’t occur to him until later that he never once thought of undertaking the job for Ysolde’s sake alone.
Two
The spirit world version of Seville looked almost identical to the real world version, if you discounted the fact that there was a slight sepia haze over everything, and all the angles were a degree or two off from what they should be. Constantine never could figure out why the spirit world wasn’t filled with broken, straggly headstones, willow trees draped with long creepers that moved eerily in the breeze, and odd little spots where fog seemed to cling to the ground, obscuring the vision, but giving flashes of movement that disappeared as soon as one looked at them.
“Coward?” he asked on a gasp of disbelief. “Me?”
Ysolde brushed a bit of lint from her sleeve. “Well, what else am I to think when you, a brave and heroic dragon who has sworn himself to my eternal service, won’t even do this one simple little task for me?”
“If you think such ridiculous statements are going to bait me into jumping to your command, you are mistaken,” Constantine said dryly, but despite that, he began to seriously consider her request. He didn’t want to do it for a number of reasons, but he had to admit that when he reached the state where the high point of his day was irritating Baltic, he should reassess his life plan. Perhaps a little adventure would be just what he needed to shake himself of the sense of gloom that pervaded him of late. “You say this talisman belongs to Asmodeus?”
“Yes. He’s the head of Abaddon, isn’t he?”
“So I’ve heard.” He thought about that for a few moments. “Asmodeus is sure to be in Abaddon.”
“I assume so.”
“I don’t like going to Abaddon,” he said slowly, still considering the idea.
“Really?” Ysolde looked mildly curious as she picked up Alduin. “I’ve never been there, myself. Baltic always said that the demons of hell—sorry, Abaddon—don’t like to mess with dragonkin, so I didn’t think we had much to worry about. Other than the curse, of course.”
“It’s not for that reason—” Constantine stopped himself from continuing. It would do little good to explain his preferences to her. “All I would need to do is find this object, a talisman? Is there one in particular, or will any item do?”
Ysolde pulled a strand of her blond hair from her child’s sticky grip. “I think it’s safe to say you can get anything that suits the bill.”
“Which means any object of a personal nature to the being in question.” Constantine thought about this. He added, more speaking aloud to himself than to her, “I suppose I could get in Asmodeus’s palace and find an object quickly enough. I wouldn’t have to spend any time in Abaddon, not that—” He remembered he wasn’t alone, and once again bit down on his words. With a brief nod at Ysolde, he added, “Very well. I will undertake this quest for you, my beloved former mate. But only because I live for you.”
“Oh, you do not. One day you’ll meet a lovely woman who will make you forget all about me.”
“Never will the sun set on a day in which I do not spend my time devoted to your welfare,” he said, suitably dramatically. He thought of striking a noble yet humble pose, but she was watching her child at that moment, and he hated to waste a good pose.
“Uh huh.” She rolled her eyes briefly. “I’d think that bringing about the end of the curse would be reward enough without the dramatic declarations. Just the thought of having the world be a normal place with all the septs able to talk to each other again, and no one at war, would be heaven compared to how things are now.”
Slowly, so Ysolde would not notice, Constantine nudged the deflated sheep behind him. “I will pack my things. Where must I go to accomplish this burdensome task?”
“Pack?” Ysolde looked amused and curious at the same time. “I didn’t know ghosts had luggage.”
“Of course we do.” He waited until she was looking at Alduin before snatching up the sheep, and holding it behind his back. “We have need of things just the same as you do. I wear clothing, do I not? I must shave, and bathe, or I would be unpleasant to be around.”
“Yes, but you’re a spirit. You can wear the same thing every day if you like, and I doubt if you’d stink if you didn’t take a bath.”
He pulled himself up to his full height, and shook his finger at her. Unfortunately, it was the hand holding the sheep, which baaed forlornly before he jerked his arm behind his back again. “Just because I’m a spirit does not mean I wish to appear unfashionable or be unclean!”
Ysolde giggled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Of course you must pack your clothes and…” She glanced at his arm. “… accessories if it makes you feel better.”
“You did not answer the question of where I must go in order to accomplish this mission.”
“You are the cutest sticky child in the world,” Ysolde said to her son when he started to sing in a high, singsong voice. “Hmm? Oh, the Charmer is evidently in Paris, so it’s probably best if you get into Asmodeus’s palace by one of the European entrances.”
“Evidently?” Constantine picked out a word that made him frown. “Do you not know for certain where the Charmer is?”
“I don’t know the Charmer personally—this is just what was passed on to me.” She dropped a kiss on her son’s head and started toward the door. “Thank you so much for doing this, Constantine. I would tell you how much I appreciate it, but it’s so much more than just my wishes that’re at stake here. You’ll free all the dragons, and be a hero forever. All right, my darling, it’s the bathtub for you…”
Constantine’s frown grew darker as he absently watched the love of his life leave the room, his thoughts, for once, not on his own grievances, but instead reaching back in time to his youth. “I wouldn’t do it if Bael were not safely confined in the Akashic Plain,” he said softly to himself. “But as he is, and has no way to get out, then I will act the hero. I will save the dragonkin. I will take my place in the annals of modern dragon history. I will do this for the glory of the silver dragons.”
With a little nod at his noble intentions, he took the sheep to his bedroom, already planning the items he would need on the trip. It didn’t occur to him until later that he never once thought of undertaking the job for Ysolde’s sake alone.
Two
The spirit world version of Seville looked almost identical to the real world version, if you discounted the fact that there was a slight sepia haze over everything, and all the angles were a degree or two off from what they should be. Constantine never could figure out why the spirit world wasn’t filled with broken, straggly headstones, willow trees draped with long creepers that moved eerily in the breeze, and odd little spots where fog seemed to cling to the ground, obscuring the vision, but giving flashes of movement that disappeared as soon as one looked at them.
