The lack of sleep from the night before caught up to Roland, and he fell asleep on top of Asagoroth’s head. He had disturbing, disjointed dreams and woke up an instant before Asagoroth pulled up sharply midair with a violent hiss.
“Vedra!” he said right before another dragon, this one black with white stripes across her face, plowed right into him.
The impact sent a shock wave through the air, a dull thrum that echoed across the sky. Roland was thrown from Asagoroth and tumbled uncontrollably, the attack so swift he didn’t have time to brace himself. He tried to straighten but collided with a hard, unyielding surface and blacked out.
He awakened gradually, the wind whistling past his ears and pressure against his back. Once again he felt like one giant bruise. As his whirling mind finally clicked back into place, he realized he was falling. He popped his eyes open to see the Upper Realm far above him and the Middle Realm nearly a distant memory. He was plummeting right toward the Lower Realm, and a panicked sound came from him as he struggled to gain control over his wings. He’d lost several feathers from each and knew he’d lose more as he tried to stop his descent. His body resisted his attempt to roll over.
“Oh Light,” he choked out, fear rushing over him, making his movements more frantic. A dark figure entered his vision and swooped toward him. He whimpered and finally managed to turn around. His wings bloomed out as they caught the draft of his plummet, and he gritted his teeth against the jarring pain at the sudden halt to his descent.
Strong arms came around his waist, and before he could fight, a rough, accented voice spoke in his ear. “I not hurt you.”
That voice.
Roland swung his head around and looked into familiar green eyes. “Bune?”
The demon smiled slightly as he took all of Roland’s weight. He had to since his hold prevented Roland from flapping his own wings. Their embrace was awkward, and Roland shimmered his wings intangible. Bune shifted his hold slightly, and Roland turned to his side, linking one arm around Bune’s thick neck. Then he looked up at the clouds far above their heads.
“How did you find us?” he asked.
“I go to garrison when I saw Vedra,” he said slowly, enunciating each Low Enochian word. “I go to warn. I am not fast enough. I see you fall.”
Roland glanced at him to see Bune watching him intently. “Thank you.”
Bune nodded before he looked up at the clouds as well. A bright shaft of lightning cracked across the surface of the clouds. Then another. And another. A roar bellowed across the skies. Roland shivered and unconsciously gripped Bune tighter.
“Asa,” he whispered.
Bune grunted. “He is great dragon. He will win. I serve four dragons since I was child. Asagoroth is best and strongest. He is fierce when he protects.”
Bune looked at Roland. Roland glanced at him before looking away, face heating.
“You both called the dragon Vedra.”
Bune raised his heavy eyebrows. “His sister.”
Roland gaped. “His sister?”
Bune appeared to take in his reaction with a considering frown. “Dragons do not have family. Not like demons. Not like angels. They fight. They do not bond.”
“He told me. I just….” It wasn’t something he could easily understand. Roland looked back up.
“Asagoroth is mighty,” Bune said. “And Vedra wants revenge. He killed her eggs before they hatch.”
The bottom of his stomach dropped out as Roland returned his gaze back to Bune.
“What?” he croaked, shivering against a sudden chill.
Bune continued to watch the sky, his tone illustrating his indifference. “Females hide nests well. Many males do not find them. Asagoroth did and destroyed many. Sometimes he finds mothers and kills them too. They are weak from creating nests.”
Feeling ill, Roland laid his head on Bune’s shoulder and closed his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths.
Oh Light.
Oh Light.
Who had he bound himself to? What had he bound himself to?
Asagoroth was a monster.
It was a struggle to stop the tears of horror, and he didn’t fully succeed. Bune said nothing more, only watched the skies. Roland was conflicted, confused, and in pain, both the physical and emotional kind. He thought he’d understood what Asagoroth meant about dragons killing each other, the instinctual need for it. But he only visualized adults fighting a fair fight. He never considered the vulnerable young being targeted.
And he attacked his sister’s nest? He’d killed his nieces and nephews.
Roland shook his head. No, if Bune was to be believed, dragons didn’t have those kinds of thoughts, those types of connection.
But it was still there. Whether they acknowledged it or not, it was still there.
The sounds and thrums of energy from above abruptly ceased. Then an almighty bellow shook the air. Asagoroth’s roar of triumph. Roland finally looked up, and in the far distance, a colossal something fell from the sky and quickly vanished into the darkness of the Lower Realm.
Vedra.
It wasn’t long before Asagoroth dove from the clouds, eyes wide and searching.
“My lord!” Bune said in Middle Dimoori.
Roland had lost his voice and could only stare as Asagoroth turned around, the move not as graceful as it usually was. He realized why a moment later, when Asagoroth spotted them and shot forward. One of his wings was mangled, and he listed to one side. Deep-red blood stained the area of the bite, and some of the membrane had been torn. His shoulder and arm on the same side were equally bitten and bloody, showing starkly against the usually flawless black scales.
“Roland.” Asagoroth hovered before them, giving no indication the wounds bothered him. But the roughness of his voice and jerky movements proved otherwise.
Roland still couldn’t speak. What horrified him more? Asagoroth’s wounds, or his merciless actions against his own kind?
Did he flee? Did he continue with their plan? What did he have if he left Asagoroth? The angels would never accept him back. He was certain that even if Anpiel didn’t tell anyone, the others would. She might claim that he died, but Sabrael and Bethor would certainly scream to the cosmos that he had betrayed them all. But to remain with Asagoroth? Knowing what he’d done, who he truly was?
“Mate?”
Roland snapped his eyes up and met Asagoroth’s worried gaze. His heart pounded against his ribs.
“I’m well,” he whispered. He turned to Bune. “Thank you.” Then he lightly kissed his cheek. A menacing growl bubbled up from Asagoroth, and Bune flinched and hunched his shoulders.
Roland turned to glare. “Stop that. He saved me. Be grateful.”
Asagoroth glared in return, but the growls stopped. Roland took a deep breath and pushed away from Bune even as he shimmered his wings substantial. Bune let go, and Roland made his shaky way to Asagoroth. A soft purr emanated from Asagoroth as soon as his feet touched down on his scaly head.
“Thank you,” Asagoroth said with high dignity to Bune.
Bune bowed his head. “My lord.”
Asagoroth lifted the arm that wasn’t wounded and, with a massive claw, sliced at one of the scales on his wounded side, tearing it free, exposing more blue skin. Then he held out the scale to Bune.
“May honor follow you all your days,” he said.
Bune’s eyes were as wide as two moons as he took the scale in both hands. It was bigger than his head, the glossy black marred by a streak of drying blood. He visibly shook as he bowed his head again, his breath hitching in his chest.
“I am undeserving,” he whispered roughly.
“That is for me to decide.”
Roland sensed these words were part of the honor ceremony. Bune straightened and pressed the scale to his chest. He glanced at Roland, then nodded to Asagoroth. After a regal nod, Asagoroth turned and flew away, continuing in the direction they were headed before the attack. Roland looked over his shoulder to see Bune staring at the scale as if it were the most precious treasure he’d ever received. Tears glistened in his bright eyes, an amazed smile on his face.
It was a symbol. A token from his master. Just as the high chancellor often gave medals to angels who showed remarkable service, Asagoroth had just given his own reward to one he thought worthy. Now Bune could return home in high honor.
A short time passed before Roland could speak again, using Middle Enochian. “You need to rest. You’re still bleeding.”
“I will rest as soon as we arrive.”
Roland grunted, not able to argue. There was nowhere to land, anyway. “Bune said that was your sister.”
Asagoroth said nothing.
“He said she came after you for revenge.”
Still nothing.
He fisted his hands and drummed them on Asagoroth’s head. “How could you do it? How could you kill those eggs? The mothers? Your own sister? How could you—?” He clenched his jaw tightly and laid his forehead against the smooth scales. He whispered, “What are you?”
Asagoroth was silent for so long Roland wondered if he would ever speak.
“I am dragon.”
Roland pounded a fist on Asagoroth’s head again. Right, of course. That was always his answer.
“Just tell me, please, that you didn’t enjoy it.”
“It was for survival, Roland. I do not understand why you are angry with me. It was a practical solution. The young would grow up and try to kill me. I prevented them from doing so.”
“Maybe if you taught them not to, they wouldn’t. Did any of you think about that?”
Another moment of silence.
“It is not taught to us,” Asagoroth said in a low voice Roland felt as well as heard. “The One Who Brought the Light infused it into our blood and bones. We are to kill or be killed. Our mothers protect the nest until we hatch. Then as we hatch, she leaves, her last time at protecting us. If she stayed, she would kill us herself. I killed two of my siblings when I was barely a day old. Five others escaped, and we separated. I mate when the season arrives and have killed many other bucks when they tried to claim a female I wanted.”
Roland listened, his eyes closed, and there was no mistaking the growls that began to color Asagoroth’s words.
“There will only be one dragon to survive,” Asagoroth said. “I knew this even before I took my first breath of fresh air. For the cosmos to continue, there can only be one of us. That is why we do not use our powers on each other. We would destroy our home. We would destroy everything.”
“And for what?” Roland whispered bitterly. “Immortality? Is it really worth all the slaughter?”
Asagoroth sighed heavily. “Listen carefully, Roland. The cosmos can only maintain the life of one dragon. It was never meant for all of us. I used to fight for survival because it is what dragons do. Now I fight to stay with you.”