Chapter 45: When Blood Comes Calling

“I feel ridiculous,” Elric grumbled, his thoughts tangled with embarrassment and frustration.
“It is the only way to keep her from slipping off. It is a long journey and I have a feeling that she would not appreciate dangling from your talons like a field mouse snatched up by an owl,” Æðelfrið said with a grin. Elric grumbled again but held still as Æðelfrið tightened the straps.
“It should feel the same as riding a horse except you won’t have to kick this one…as much,” Æðelfrið said with a wicked grin to Saffron who smirked.
“I shall keep my spurring to a minimum,” she consoled Elric as she hoisted herself onto the saddle. Æðelfrið had crafted the saddle himself to fit the proportions of Elric’s body. He also added longer stirrups so she could climb more easily onto the seat.
She settled into the seat and secured the belt around her waist. Æðelfrið had also added saddlebags filled with food and other items that Saffron could need while traveling. She had packed her grandmother’s journal as well, not yet having a chance to read it since she retrieved it from Gilramore. It was currently safely tucked into her bag that was tied to her waist.
“You should have everything that you need. Make sure to only fly at night. You glitter like a damn jewel in the sunlight,” Æðelfrið admonished Elric, who snorted in reply. He laughed and placed a hand on the large dragon’s snout. They touched foreheads and Æðelfrið reached a hand up to Saffron who took it. He clasped her forearm.
“I look forward to addressing you as the Lady of Avolire upon your return,” he said. She blushed furiously.
“I look forward to that very much,” she replied, a shy smile on her lips.
“Now get going! You should be in the air before the moon has reached its peak,” he said and slapped Elric’s flank. Elric took a few lumbering strides before beating his large winds, sending them aloft. Saffron looked back and watched until Æðelfrið disappeared from view.
####
“Stupid boy!” Ishild screamed as she lashed out again. A crack sounded and a black bolt shot from her hand and ripped across Kingsley’s bare back, burning his pale skin. His skin was already mottled with black streaks and seeping wounds. A stench of rot and burnt flesh stained the air of the chamber.
Kingsley sagged against his restraints as he dangled from the ceiling, his toes barely brushing the stone floor beneath him. His blood ran freely down his back, soaking his pants. The steady patter of it was nearly soothing as he fought the blackness that threatened to overtake him.
“Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” she shrieked and turned him to face her. He stared wearily at her from bruised and swollen eyes. Her face was contorted in anger, drops of dried blood dotting her fair skin. “Well!” she yelled and stabbed her finger into a festering wound on his chest. He sucked in a painful breath but then began to laugh.
She slapped him hard against the face and he tasted the sharp metallic tang of his own blood and yet he kept smiling. “You’ll never win. You underestimate her. Do you not see what she is? What runs in her veins?” he spat at her. Her black eyes glowed for a moment before she placed her hand on his throat and pulled him closer to her.
“You are weak, like your father. You fall to your knees before a woman in the name of love. It is despicable. I care not what runs in her veins for soon it will run at my feet!” As she hissed in his ear, black tendrils ran through his veins, rising starkly against his pallid skin. His head fell to the side as the darkness enveloped him.
####
The midnight sky was brilliant as they soared through the soft clouds. Saffron stretched out her arms, letting the clouds drift over her hands. There was something about the moonlight that made her blood sing. She felt weightless and powerful as they soared through the sky, high above the ground.
“This is not as bad as the first flight,” she said, leaning her mouth closer to Elric’s ears. She felt his body reverberate with a chuckle.
“I told you. Although I love flying, it will be nice to walk as a man again,” he thought. She caressed his scales, sliding the leathery skin beneath her palm.
“Soon,” she promised and placed a kiss where her hand had been.
####
“Havardr?” The old man looked up from the table where he sat, finishing his evening meal.
“Yes, Oda?” he asked his wife, who stood before him looking distressed. “What is it?” He half rose from his chair. She put out her hand to stop him.
“It is nothing to worry about, I don’t believe. But when I was scrying earlier I sensed something,” she said, her brow creased into a small v.
“Well?” he pushed, curious as to what could have worried his usually stoic wife.
“A dragon is coming. It is one of our line.” He sat down heavily into his chair. It must be the babe that Maeve bore; his grandchild was coming to Scarwood Hold at last.