Drachengott Page 7

  Freya gently put the Dragonsbane’s body down and stood up. ‘You fool!’ She advanced on Nils, half hysterical, but her next words carried a terrible weight. ‘Don’t you understand? Can’t you see?’

  Nils hesitated, still confused. Where was the triumph he had expected to feel? Where was the relief? ‘He was my enemy,’ he said. ‘The Drachengott’s enemy.’

  Freya stopped. ‘He was your father,’ she said.

  Nils started, and then laughed. ‘You’re mad!’

  ‘He was your father,’ Freya said again. ‘And I . . . I am your mother. And your name is not Nils, it is Theodor. That’s the name I gave you, before the Jüngen took you from me.’ She started to sob again. ‘I thought you were dead. All this time I thought you didn’t survive the fall from my back. I used to carry you, my little Theodor. You looked like your father even then, and I . . . how can you not remember?’

  ‘But I don’t—’ Nils began, and then— Then it came to him, flashing across his mind like lightning. The flying dreams, when he had never flown before. That feeling of love which held him up, that presence that had been there, deep in his mind, buried in his past.

  ‘You do,’ said Freya. ‘You remember. The Drachengott said your name would be a curse, but it was never your real name, Theodor Half-Dragon.’

  Nils looked her in the face, at her strange eyes. ‘You’re a dragon,’ he said. ‘You—!’

  ‘Yes.’ Freya turned away, and went back to Rutger’s body. ‘I tried to stop you — I flew as fast as I could, but I was too late. You’ve killed your own father. And now I . . .’ She lifted Rutger in her arms again, and looked up at Nils. ‘Kill me,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘I have nothing left to live for now, so kill me as well. Take my soul to be with his. It’s all I want.’

  Horror and disbelief froze Nils’s mind. He looked at them, Rutger and Freya, and the truth came crashing down on him. He knew it was true. It was all there, right in front of him, there in their faces. Rutger’s stocky build, the green eyes, Freya’s black hair. He was looking at his parents.

  Nils threw the Soul Thief down. ‘No! Oh, Drachengott, no!’

  Anger twisted Freya’s beautiful face. ‘Do it,’ she snarled. ‘It’s the only way. Take my soul and go. Go to the Drachengott and beg for his forgiveness if you think you’ve earned it now. But I will go to be with Rutger. I’ve suffered enough for him, and you.’

  But Nils could not move.

  Freya gently laid Rutger down once more, stood up, and snatched the Soul Thief. She put the butt against the ground and rested the tip on her chest. Pressing it into herself, she said more gently: ‘When you go, take this weapon with you. Your father and I will be inside it, and that way you can always carry us with you.’ She closed her eyes, and the stone began to glow with faint silver light.

  Nils took a step toward her, holding out a hand. ‘No!’

  He was too late. The stone flashed silver, and Freya collapsed beside the body of her lover. And as Nils stood there, looking down on them both, only one thought could find a home in his mind. The words of the Drachengott’s curse, speaking out of his memory: THE DAY WILL COME WHEN YOU WILL WISH YOU HAD NEVER BEEN BORN, SCHÄCHER. THAT WILL BE YOUR PUNISHMENT.

  A horrible, hoarse sob escaped him. With a convulsive movement he snatched up the Soul Thief. Holding it to him, he looked down at the bodies of his parents. ‘I’m sorry,’ he sobbed. ‘I’m so sorry . . .’

  He pressed his hands against the black stone where their souls now lived, and pointlessly sent some of his magic into it. The stone flashed a couple of times in response, and then went dark.

  Nearby, some of the Ketzer were returning. In a moment they would resume their attack on him, and Nils wanted to wait where he was and let them kill him. But the primal will to live was enough to make him move. He changed back into a dragon and flew away, holding onto the spear, leaving the bodies of his parents behind. Fleeing once again, from pain into pain, from a void to another void. It was all over. The curse had come to pass.

  But as he flew way from Drachenburg, Nils spoke a curse of his own, whispering it into the wind. Drachengott, he said, I know this was all your doing now. And one day you will pay for it. I swear, one day you will pay. I swear it.

  Chapter Nine

  At first there was pain. Agonising, tearing pain, there in his chest. But only for a moment. What followed was even worse. Darkness. He was in a black void, unable to see, or hear, or feel anything at all. Absolute nothing, everywhere. He was lost and alone.

  There was no way to know how long that lasted, but it did not last forever. Suddenly a presence joined him in the dark — a warm, loving, gentle presence. It touched him, soothing his fear, and as it departed he followed it, drifting away through the dark. It took him back to a place he knew, and he went gratefully into it.

  Then the pain came back. It jolted through him, and he gasped — but in that instant, it all came rushing back. Sight, sound, thought . . . It all returned. His eyes snapped open and he found himself looking up — up at an endless blue sky tinged with pink. Just then it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

  He lay on his back, unable to move but not really wanting to, feeling a curious warmth. But then the air around him shifted and something else appeared in his line of vision — a face even more beautiful than the sky. A face he knew. And the voice was there, her voice, saying something.

  ‘Rutger? Rutger?’

  Rutger coughed and winced. ‘What . . . ?’

  Swanhild’s face was wet with tears, and her hands touched his chest. ‘Oh, Rutger . . .’

  Rutger smiled dreamily up at her. ‘Is this the afterlife?’

  Swanhild laughed weakly. ‘No, my love. It’s life. You’re alive. And so am I.’

  Reality slowly came back to Rutger. ‘Swanhild?’ he said. ‘Is that really you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Swanhild lifted him into her arms. ‘Yes, it’s me. I’ve come back to you, my love, my Rutger, my—’

  ‘Swanhild.’ Rutger managed to move, reaching up to hold her. ‘Swanhild, my . . . Oh, Swanhild . . .’

  They held each other for a long moment. Rutger could feel Swanhild sobbing, and tears wet his own face. Just then nothing else mattered — not where he was, or what had happened, or whether there was still danger about. He was alive, and she was there, and everything was as it should be.

  Rutger started to sob, too, weakly and with relief. ‘I thought you were dead,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. Swanhild, I wanted to die without you.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered back. ‘My love, I know. I hated myself for what I did. I swear — I will never forgive myself for what I did to you.’

  Rutger looked up into her tear-streaked face. ‘You warned me,’ he said. ‘You told me you would break my heart. I should have listened.’

  ‘No,’ said Swanhild. ‘I should never have let it happen at all. I tried to be strong, but—’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Rutger told her. ‘I would take a lifetime of loneliness for just one day with you.’ He kissed her. ‘But it’s all right now. You’re back.’

  ‘Yes . . .’ Swanhild loosened her hold on him, and the two of them looked around at their surroundings. They were still in the street just outside Drachenburg’s castle, and a battle was raging somewhere in the distance. The Magic Taker lay close by.

  ‘What happened?’ Rutger asked at last. ‘Where did that man go — the one with the spear?’

  ‘He left,’ said Swanhild. ‘Rutger, listen: it’s time I told you the truth. That man you saw . . . he’s our son.’

  Rutger half-laughed. ‘What? What are you talking about? He looked the same age as me!’

  ‘I know he did, but he’s only four years old,’ said Swanhild. ‘He’s a shapeshifter — it made him grow up quickly. And there’s more. More things I have to tell you.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Rutger.

  ‘The reason I left is because . . .’ Swanhild paused. ‘There were things I ha
d to do, people I had to find. The second was Elynor — you met her. I helped her the way I helped you. I led her to the special weapon I knew she needed. The third person I needed to find was our son, Theodor. But I’m sorry, Rutger – I lost him. The Jüngen took him, and they taught him to hate us. And his special weapon, the Soul Thief, he used it on you. It took your soul.’

  Rutger stiffened. ‘It took my—?’

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Swanhild soothed. ‘I used it on myself before he ran away. I wanted to die, so I could be with you. And we both would have been dead, but . . . I think Theodor released us. I’m not sure if he did it on purpose. But our souls escaped, and we’re alive again. And,’ she half-sobbed, half-laughed, ‘and I’m glad. Because without you, I would rather be dead.’

  Rutger stared off into the distance. ‘Our son . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ said Swanhild. She stared up at the sky. ‘I have to go after him — I have to save him from himself. We need him.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rutger. ‘If he’s our son . . .’

  ‘It’s not just that,’ said Swanhild. ‘He’s one of the four.’

  ‘The four?’ said Rutger. He actually smiled — it was enjoyable, feeling that old sense of being completely lost when talking to Swanhild. ‘The four what?’

  ‘Hah . . .’ Swanhild sighed. ‘I should have told you before. There are four of you. Four people who can destroy the Drachengott, but only if they work together. You, Elynor, Theodor, and one other. I still have to find her.’

  Rutger looked at her, then at the Magic Taker. ‘Is that what this was all about, then?’ he said. ‘That’s what you’ve been doing? Finding us?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Swanhild. ‘The four people I saw in my dream. It will take all of you together.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Rutger hesitated, then began trying to get up.

  ‘Don’t,’ said Swanhild.

  ‘I can do it,’ said Rutger. He gathered his legs beneath him and stood up with an effort, pulling Swanhild with him. It took him a moment or two to find his balance, but once he had it he picked up the Magic Taker and thrust it into his belt. He faced Swanhild and said; ‘Well, then, if that’s what you need to do — if that’s what it takes —I’m coming with you.’

  ‘You can’t,’ said Swanhild. ‘The Gottlosen need you. I have to do this alone.’

  Rutger actually laughed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not leaving me behind again, Swanhild. I’m coming with you whether you like it or not. We’ll find these people together — our son, and the fourth person, whoever they are. Elynor’s Ketzer can protect the Gottlosen well enough; finding the four and destroying the Drachengott is what really matters. If that’s what you dreamed, then I believe it.’

  ‘But—’ Swanhild began.

  ‘I’m not listening to any excuses, Swanhild,’ Rutger told her, gently but firmly. ‘I’m coming with you, and that’s final.’

  She relaxed and laughed. ‘Rutger, you nuisance.’ She held him close and kissed him. ‘I wish I could say no to you, but I couldn’t before, and I can’t now.’

  ‘Then that’s enough,’ said Rutger. ‘Let’s deal with these Jüngen, and go.’

  Swanhild kissed him again. ‘The people here need you, Rutchen, but there’s no time to waste. I’ll go ahead and stop him — I can travel faster by myself. But I will come back to you.’

  Rutger let her go. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Swanhild. ‘I’ll find him and bring him back here, and then we can set out together.’

  ‘He won’t agree to it.’

  ‘He will,’ Swanhild said firmly. ‘No matter what he did, he is still our son, and we need him. Now, I must go.’

  Rutger caught her by the arm. ‘Will you come back?’

  She smiled and gave him another kiss. ‘I swear it on my heart.’

  Very reluctantly, Rutger let her go. ‘Then go,’ he said. ‘But don’t make me wait too long, or I’ll come after you myself.’

  Swanhild laughed. ‘I believe you.’

  She gave him one last smile and then hurried away, vanishing into the mass of people that had begun to gather around them like a beautiful dream.

  Chapter Ten

  Nils flew over the battle, over the broken walls of Drachenburg, where the Ketzer and the Gottlosen were driving the Jüngen back into their camp. Other dragons fought in the air around him, but they, too, were retreating, and as Nils dodged an attack from a brown female, something strange happened.

  Ahead of him a knot of Jüngen dragons had pulled together and were circling back to the attack, but even as they swooped at their enemies, a beam of light, bright and yellow as sunlight, shot into the sky. It hit the dragons, and immediately they began to break up — falling away from the flock and then circling aimlessly, roaring in confusion and anger. The flames in their mouths vanished.

  Nils flicked a wing and rolled away from the beam of light just before it struck him, and as he dodged he caught a quick glimpse of its maker. A woman, standing on the ground, surrounded by others. She was pointing something at the sky with one hand, and her other hand held that of the man beside her. All of them were holding hands, sharing their magic the way the Jüngen did.

  From somewhere above Nils, a dragon roared. Come! Come to me! Follow me, lost ones — let me help you!

  And they went to him. A grey dragon circled above, and those of his kind who had been struck by that strange weapon from the ground flew up to join him.

  Utterly confused, still enraged and guilt-stricken, Nils turned his back on the bizarre spectacle and fled. The battle was ending, but none of it had anything to do with him anymore. Not the Jüngen, not the Ketzer, not the Gottlosen. None of them were his people. Not even the dragons were truly his kind.

  Only one thing mattered now, and that was revenge.

  He left Drachenburg behind, following the river, the Soul Thief resting along his belly with his talons wrapped around it. He found himself hating it — the weapon that had killed his parents, the weapon that had condemned him. But what had his mother said? It was meant for him. He was its maker and rightful user. And he knew it was true. He had seen it in his dreams. He had made it, and he would use it as it was meant to be used, and then he would die.

  Yes. He was certain of that now. Once the Drachengott was dead, he would use the Soul Thief one last time — on himself. And then there would be no more pain, no more fear, no more confusion and no more lies. The thought was comfort, of a sort. After all, what else did he have left to live for? His whole life had been a lie, from the very beginning.

  Nils roared — a long, loud, wailing sound of pain.

  And it was answered.

  Another dragon roared, the cry echoing off the mountains. Nils’s spine prickled at the sound. Puzzled, acting on some instinct he couldn’t quite understand, he roared again. And again, there was an answer. Every dragon’s roar was different, and this one . . . this one sounded . . . familiar . . .

  I know it, he thought suddenly. I know that call.

  A strange feeling bloomed inside him; a warm, gentle, loving feeling, one he remembered. It was the feeling from his dreams, his happy flying dreams.

  Nils wailed and circled back. He wanted to cry, if only a dragon could. This couldn’t be happening; it was impossible. But she was there. Another dragon flying toward him, still calling to him — a dragon he knew at once. The moment he saw her, memories flashed across his mind. Flying over the mountains, his child’s hands holding onto the warm body beneath him, a feeling of love and safety . . .

  The dragon was pitch black, her eyes piercing red. She had only one horn — the other had been broken off. But its remains, and the intact one beside it, were silver. And her voice, as she called out to him, was a voice he knew. Theodor! Theodor, stop!

  The word escaped him. Mother!

  She flew closer, still calling his name, and Nils let her come to him. His heart was pounding — this couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be her. Not now.

  The black d
ragon circled around him, and blew a thin stream of silver fire. It flickered on his red scales, warming him all over, and his pain faded before a wave of sheer joy. Mother, he said again, softly now.

  Come, she told him. Come with me, Theodor. Everything will be all right.

  The Drachengott’s mountain loomed large on the horizon, and below them the River Vendt was a silver stripe among green fields. Nils flew down toward it, following her, and they landed on the bank. Nils dropped the Soul Thief and stepped toward the other dragon. He stayed low to the ground, his neck arched upward, and he sniffed tentatively at her face. She smelled warm and fierce.

  She scented at him in return, her pointed muzzle brushing against his cheeks, and she made odd little crooning noises in her throat. Theodor, her voice murmured. My Theodor. I am so sorry.

  A terrible weariness came over him, and he pressed himself to her side, scales against scales. You’re her, he said. The woman, Freya. But you’re . . .

  She rubbed her head against his neck. No, she said. This is my true shape. You deserve to know that. And my name . . . She hesitated.

  What? said Nils. He had never wanted to know anything so badly. What is it? Who are you, really? Please, just tell me.

  The black dragon sighed, a low, rumbling sigh. My name is . . . Syn.

  Syn? Nils repeated, confused. How can that be your name? It means . . . a syn is an evil deed.

  I know. There was a touch of bitterness in his mother’s voice. The Drachengott gave it to me, just as he named you Thief.

  Nils snarled. I’m not just a thief anymore, though, am I? Now I’m a murderer as well. You said I killed my own father — and you. I thought you were dead! He twisted to look her in the eye. How are you alive?

  Hush, said Syn. Hush, Theodor. Your father is alive. You took our souls, but then you set them free. Now we’re alive again.

  Nils’s heart leapt. You mean . . . ?

  Yes. The Soul Thief can return what it takes, said Syn. But listen, Theodor. You must come back with me. You can’t fight the Drachengott alone.