Wonderland Ch. 11

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Tempest

It was as though nothing in this world existed, nothing except the voice of the dragons.

They never spoke separately, it was all in unison. Every voice was unique, but together they sounded like a Franciscan choir; deep and harmonious, each demanding my full attention. Under the black dragon's spellbinding stare, it wasn't like I had any other choice. My awareness of the world outside had ceased the moment the black dragon had locked gazes with me, leaving only the voices.

And the voices had much to say.

"The matron of old

Yielded to the beasts of a forgotten age.

-this is a kinship you share.

House of Sky, and the

House of Deep Earth

-each of these you can bear.

A chalice coveted

Of a matron of new

-a blending of the origins; an era of new rule."

Suddenly, I was drawn deeper under the black dragon's spell and the voices of the dragons became the voices of millions. Indistinguishable whispers pressed down on my skull like heavy weights, the voices growing louder and louder until just as quickly as it started -- it stopped.

Pain began to break through my mental fog, the sharp shocks only adding to the pressure of the dragon's charm. Threatening roars greeted my ears, and for a moment, I thought I was dreaming as two familiar voices were added to the cacophony around me. It couldn't be...?

Another spurt of white hot pain quickly dismissed the dream theory and with a groan I opened my eyes to look at the world around me. My head fell back as the black dragon coiled his body tighter, squeezing me harder and harder until my bones gave in a series of audible cracks and snaps.

The dragon's spell was instantly broken.

I looked up in panic at the dragon above me when the beast jerked as though stung, his silver eyes becoming glowing white orbs as it opened its great maw and roared loud enough to shake the room.

Seconds later, large chunks of gold and marble began to fall from the ceiling.

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" a man roared; his voice almost inhuman in tone.

I screamed as I was released from the dragon's coils, my breath escaping my lungs in a whiny wail as my back connected with the black marble floor.

I felt something warm and wet trickle down my scalp, the smell of ginger and copper warring for dominance as the scents floated around me.

Silver eyes suddenly came into my vision; the face they were set in was gaunt and unnaturally grayish-blue, like the sky before a storm. The man's mouth was moving, yelling even, but the words were lost to me. I couldn't hear over the pounding beat in my ears. I couldn't feel anything as I was picked up off the stone and placed close to the man's chest.

The gesture was familiar, he was familiar, but I was so tired...too tired to make the connection, too tired to even breathe.

Darkness overtook my vision, blotting the familiar man from my view. The sound of my weak pulse gave three last beats until finally, everything was silent.

+ + + +

Thatcher

After Thatcher's claws had been unfurled, he had attacked. He wasn't too far gone to understand that killing one dragon, let alone seven, was an impossible task.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was currently screaming silently in pain, crushed in the coils of a beast that long ago should've been destroyed.

Thatcher did not think.

Thatcher did not feel.

He let what came so naturally to him spring forth and take control, and soon, without him even having to try, he broke the black dragon's thrall over his mate. The dragon roared in anger and Thatcher felt the earth beneath his feet tremble. The cave ceiling overhead instantly began to crack, sending large jagged chunks of marble and cave rock hurtling down to the floor. The other dragons danced out of the way, growling in warning at one another. The only good that did was to send more vibrations up through the cave.

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Thatcher roared at the awestruck Tze'sic, who immediately jumped into action.

Instantly the dragon released Tempest from its coils and her body fell like a limp doll to the ground, her skull connecting with a loud crack on the crumbling marble tiles. Somewhere in the background, Tze'sic gave a terrified cry.

Thatcher's golden eyes locked onto the dragon. The large black dragon roared and twisted over the cracked tile, snarling and snapping his huge jaws as he backed away from Thatcher's advancing steps. Silver eyes flashing, the dragon lunged like a cobra with jaws agape, the heat of his mouth blasting over Thatcher like a large furnace. It zapped all the moisture from Thatcher's skin, leaving his eyes and tongue feeling like sandpaper. Thatcher easily sidestepped the leap and twisted his body over the large spiked head plate to grab on to the wicked sharp black horns above the dragon's eyes.

"GO!" he yelled at Tze'sic, ducking when the barbed tail of the white dragon came swinging towards his head to dislodge him.

But Tze'sic was frozen in place. Thatcher felt something cold shiver down his spine and suddenly, the humanity within him died. His bond with Tempest shattered and broke, taking away his breath with the intensity of the pain that filled him.

Nothing had ever hurt this badly. Nothing.

Thatcher let out an anguished cry that slowly grew into an inhuman roar. Violence and black rage swept through him, drowning out all else. With fury and vengeance he had never before felt, Thatcher released his dark magic and let it consume the dragons completely -- and take over his own self.

"You will give her your life," Thatcher whispered in the dragon's tongue, his voice carrying into the minds of the animals now under his control. "You will give her your magic, your strength, and your soul. You will bring Tempest back to the world of the living. If you fail to do so," Thatcher stroked the trembling maw beneath him before sinking his claws deep into the black dragon's muzzle, "I will bind you to this place, leaving you deaf and blind to wander the depths of the earth for eternity."

The dragons lowered their bodies one by one; exposing their scaled necks to Thatcher's searching talons without hesitation. Thatcher plucked a large golden chalice from the upset piles of treasure and returned to their prone bodies. With one claw he dug into the fleshy shoulder of the white dragon, tugging his nail down through the scales and muscles. Thick green blood oozed from the cut in large drops, all of which Thatcher caught with the chalice. Next, he turned to the green dragon that bled blue, then to the blue dragon that bled claret. The progression continued to the red, gold, and grey dragons, each beast shuddering under the painful grasp of Thatcher's nails. Soon, only the black dragon was left, but unlike the others, he struggled to free himself of Thatcher's mental restraints, refusing to go down without a fight.

Thatcher smiled into the dragon's eyes and lifted his bloody hand so the beast could watch as its blood, the color of the shining full moon, dropped into the chalice, almost overflowing it. Thatcher did not care about the bleeding wounds or the pain the beasts were in -- the lifeless body of his mate mattered more, so much more.

Thatcher kneeled beside Tempest's prone body and the broken Gargoyle who loomed over her.

"Will this actually help?" Tze'sic whispered hoarsely, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell freely down his grimy cheeks.

Thatcher did not answer. He couldn't. He cupped the back of Tempest's head and tilted it back. "Open her mouth," he murmured, his voice as cold as the stone that was digging into the flesh of his knees. Tze'sic complied and with a silent prayer, Thatcher tipped the chalice so its contents could empty into Tempest's mouth.

The blood instantly trickled out of the corners of her lips, great grayish-green rivulets falling like tears down her pale, lifeless cheeks.

"We have to force her to swallow," Thatcher told Tze'sic, holding out the chalice. "Take this."

Leaning down, Thatcher pressed his fingers to each side of her throat and gently pushed. The muscles convulsed to Thatcher's touch and the pool of blood in her mouth descended. Thatcher took back the chalice and tipped more of the liquid past her lips, his black eyes not leaving her still face as he did so.

"It's not working, Táxim," Tze'sic hissed, his voice torn between rage and loss. "She's not breathing and I do not hear her pulse."

"She will live," Thatcher vowed stonily, his mind filled with prayers to the Gods that Tempest would show any sign of life -- any at all. Already his world felt empty and cold, the broken bond between them an icy ache that gnawed at him relentlessly. This was not life. This was even worse than death.

"Are you doing that?" Tze'sic murmured suddenly.

"Doing what?" Thatcher snapped, his eyes flashing red when the Gargoyle shook his shoulder to draw away his attention from Tempest.

"Are you doing that?" he demanded, pointing up.

Thatcher looked up and felt surprise flicker through him. Above their heads, the rocks and marble slabs from the cave collapsing in on itself fell in great arcs around them, as though a force field was in place.

Thatcher looked at the bleeding, whimpering bodies of the still dragons and saw the concentration and pain in their eyes.

In that moment, warmth flooded through him.

Thatcher jerked as his body was forced back into his human form, a shaky sigh of relief escaping his lips as the small female below him shuddered and coughed. He pulled the chalice away from Tempest's mouth and watched with prickling awareness as she drew her first breath.

Tempest's eyes whipped open and with a hoarse gasp, she inhaled her first breath of a new life, her fingers digging into the stone as her body convulsed and shivered.

Hot tears fell down Thatcher's cheeks as he scooped her frame snugly into his, his sobs in her hair loud to his ears. Relief swept through him when her arms shakily came around to hold him back.

"We cannot hold the earth back much longer," the black dragon spoke weakly in Thatcher's mind. Thatcher lifted his face from Tempest's hair hesitantly, not really wanting to let her go. He ignored the Gargoyle's red eyes that were locked onto his every move and wearily pulled himself to his feet, cradling Tempest to him as he straightened up.

"I'll take control from here," Thatcher replied, grimacing instantly as he bore the mental brunt of holding up the heavy earth that was looming above their heads. Truth be told, he could not hold the earth back much longer either.

They had to get out of here, and unfortunately, he could not leave the dragons behind. They had saved Tempest's life. His life, by default. But he could not protect Tempest and aid the dragons by himself, especially not in the condition he was in. He needed help.

Thatcher turned his black streaked with gold eyes to the seething Gargoyle and fought the smug smile that threatened to cross his face. "Get Tempest out of the caves. We came here with a pack of Raspans and a Lunar herd to retrieve you from this place. They will be waiting for the both of you."

Tze'sic reached for Tempest only to have her placed out of his reach. "Don't even think of running," Thatcher said quietly. "My men will hunt you down if Tempest is so much as bruised in your care. Keep that in mind when you greet them."

Tze'sic slid his arms around Tempest and cradled her close to his large, but weak, body. "I don't think I need to remember how to protect my mate," he replied coldly. "Do me a favor and stay behind," he snarled. Tze'sic pushed around him before Thatcher could come up with a response and raced into the tunnel, covering ground quickly.

Thatcher turned back to the dragons and quickly went to work on them despite the weary ache and strain that his body was feeling or the irritation that the Gargoyle had elicited. Slowly he managed to stop the bleeding gashes he had formed in each dragon, that alone taking his mind off the rocks. The shield descended closer to them with each distraction Thatcher had to face until finally the shield was so close he could almost reach out and touch it.

Once the dragons were healed, Thatcher realized he had another problem to deal with, getting both him and the dragons out of the caves. Alive.

It was the tiny golden statue of a fierce winged dragon that lay in halves at Thatcher's feet that gave him the idea.

Soon, Thatcher was sprinting out of the shrine room, his arms full with seven pissed off mini-dragons. His only thought was to reach the surface, to see Tempest and make sure she was perfectly healed from her pretty head to her cute little toes. And to punch Tze'sic right in his smug, scaled face.

"Shield your eyes!" Thatcher commanded the dragons as he reached the mouth of the cave. His lungs, legs, and chest burned from the climb, but he knew he still had a ways to go.

Manat was waiting for him when Thatcher emerged from the darkness, his tail whipping about impatiently. The deafening sound of rock colliding with rock filled the air, and Thatcher knew that an avalanche was coming -- the distant thunder and sound of splitting trees told him that much.

Thatcher jumped onto Manat's back and ordered the Raspans to run. Manat obeyed without question, his padded feet flying over the snow as he took them to safety. The dragons clung tightly to Thatcher's torn coat, shivering and snorting soft bursts of smoke as they did so.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, Thatcher turned to see the mountains toppling into one another and great packs of snow sliding down the mountain faces at speeds that made his stomach tighten. The sound of snapping trees grew louder.

Manat caught up to the Lunar easily, overtaking them as urgency swept through the small party. Thatcher could smell fear in the animals and Tempest's was the most potent smell of all.

"WE CAN'T OUTRUN IT!" Kynan yelled at him as their animals kept pace with one another. "WE HAVE TO DIVERT THE AVALANCHE -- IT'S HEADING STRAIGHT TOWARDS OUR CAMP!"

Thatcher swore under his breath and glanced over his shoulder again.

The outmost tendrils of the avalanche were not but a mile away, and it was only gaining speed as they descended downhill.

Did he have the strength to stop it? Would he be able to reroute the avalanche to bypass both them and the camp? It didn't matter -- the choice had to be made.

Thatcher nodded quickly at Kynan and pried the dragons from his coat so he could hook them onto Manat's thick fur.

"Keep running," he instructed Manat. The Raspan rolled back his eyes in confusion, a protest already forming. Thatcher shook his head and patted the Raspan's shoulder. "Don't stop running, not until you are at the Lunar encampment."

Thatcher quickly turned on the mount so he was facing the back and threw himself off the beast. He landed with a hard thump, pain radiating in large shocks through his ankles and up into his knees. Tempest screamed out his name in shock, but already the sound was distant.

Facing the product of his doing, Thatcher held up his arms and closed his eyes. He blocked out the rest of the world, focusing only on the energy of the earth around him. The wind from the avalanche began to blow back his hair and whip at his clothes, but Thatcher remained focused on his task.

Ice cut into his skin, splinters of trees whipped past him, and still he remained focused.

Suddenly, his eyes whipped open, golden and shining, and a large burst of power shot from his body, expanding and growing until it formed a thick wall of energy in front of him. His focus of magic split into two, one part focusing on the avalanche itself and the other on erecting a wall of impenetrable energy to funnel the coming snow away from those who he had sworn to protect.

The avalanche came crashing through the trees in front of him, rising like a great white tidal wave over his head.

It was the last thing Thatcher remembered before the white overtook him.

+ + + +

Tempest

"Tempest?"

I turned from bandaging a small Luna pup's right paw to see Talon standing in the doorway of my hut looking demure and ragged. I could see it in his face that he wanted to talk, but right now, that was the last thing I wanted to do.

I looked back at the Luna pup who was openly gawking at Talon, her orange-colored eyes large in her small fox face.

"I think that should do the trick," I told her, smiling when her mouth snapped shut and she quickly gave a sheepish nod of acquiescence. I helped her down off the cot and watched her dart around Talon and out of sight.

I picked up the tools I had used to make the Luna's wrap, trying to appear uninterested in Talon's appearance, but we both knew better. My nervous pulse had to be a dead giveaway -- that and he could smell my fear.

"We need to talk about Táxim," Talon said quietly. I froze at how close he was to me. I had forgotten how silent his large frame could move, when he wanted it to.

My skin tingled with warmth at our close proximity and I turned away from him only to be stopped by a strong arm. The sight of Talon's clawed fingers reminded me of those few times when he would trace designs over my skin with those same sharp claws. The action should've terrified me, but at the time I had only thought of the electricity that had raced beneath my skin and how Talon made me feel. But with the way he had been acting lately, the only feeling I had towards Talon was animosity.

"Thatcher and I are friends," I said quietly, dragging myself into the very undesired conversation Talon had been so eager to have since the day in the caves.

"Why do you call him Thatcher?" Talon asked icily, the disgust in his voice almost palpable.

"Because that is the name he gave me," I responded heatedly, glaring up at Talon. His grey eyes were flickering with red, irritation written all over his face. "Why do you hate him so much? All he's ever done is to protect me when he didn't have to."

"It is my job to protect you," Talon snapped back at me, his voice like a whip.

"Newsflash, Talon, you weren't around to protect me!" I pushed my way around him only to have my back smashed into the wall of the hut. In shock I looked up to see Talon's eyes were pure molten silver, the rage practically radiating from his pores.

"I did not know that Fuyher would be at the Final Eden, Tempest," Talon replied hoarsely, his hands tightening around my upper arms when I tried to push him off. "His attack rendered me useless."

"Which is why you shouldn't be upset," I replied, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice. "At least, you shouldn't be upset with Thatcher or me."

Talon looked like he had been slapped in the face. "That thing bonded with you! He knew that you are my mate and yet he took you as his own! Why do you protect Táxim?"

I shot him a look. "Thatcher has saved my life over and over again. He didn't make promises to me and then just ditch me at the first opportunity! He has been honest with me whenever I asked for the truth! None of these things have you done for me." I pushed him off and went around him quickly, needing space.

"You love him."

I stopped short of my coat and furs at the tone in Talon's voice.

Turning slowly, I watched as the hope in his eyes died like the candle of a flame snuffed out. He swallowed hard and dropped his dull grey gaze from mine, his hands bunching into fists.

"You left me alone, Talon," I said quietly, my eyes filling up with tears. "You...you said I was special to you. That what we had was more than just sex or being together out of convenience. But when you left without warning and the way you're acting now...I feel more like a trophy than your mate."