Light My Fire Read online

  But the town of River Road was a good distance from Lolly’s place and it was large enough that Celyn felt sure they’d be able to find out more here than in any of the smaller towns.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked Elina.

  “I could eat.” Then she turned and started to walk away.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I saw hearty-looking sheep at pasture a league away. I will go kill one.”

  “No, no.” Celyn shook his head. “I was suggesting we go eat at a local inn or tavern.”

  Elina frowned. “You mean have others make food for us?”

  “Aye. Won’t that be nice?”

  “What if they put poison in our food?”

  Celyn smiled, but even he knew that it was mocking. “What a happy place you come from, Elina Shestakova of the excessively and ridiculously long name. A land filled with such joy!”

  “Because we do not expect others to cook for us, you mock?”

  “Do your warriors cook for themselves?”

  “Why should they?” she snapped back. “They protect the Steppes of the Outerplains and have husbands to do it for them. So, should they not have—”

  “Everything?”

  Her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “We all share with each other. It is the way of our life. It is how we survive.”

  “And that’s great. Fabulous. Really. But while you’re in my world, we can have others cook for us and there is no shame. I know I don’t feel shame.”

  “You snatch up cows while they graze and eat them whole, even though they offer you no challenge. I doubt you feel shame for anything.”

  “Shame is something dragons simply don’t understand. And why should we? We know dragons are superior to all other beings. And that’s just fine with us. Now . . . can we go eat?”

  “Anything else, handsome?”

  Elina looked up at the barmaid who’d been serving them since they’d walked into the place. Although the dragon was friendly with everyone and most were friendly right back, it was the women who paid him the most attention. Then again, it wasn’t exactly surprising. He was extremely pretty. He’d have many suitors if he spent time among the Steppes Tribes. As she’d said before, Rider women liked to have at least a few pretty husbands.

  “Another bowl of stew for me. More bread. Another ale.” He finally looked at Elina. “You want more?”

  “More?” She glanced down at her third bowl of stew. Like the Steppes wolves, her people gorged when they had ample food because there was a good chance supplies would be scarce the next day. Plus, with so much traveling, they needed to make sure they ate enough to keep up their strength. Getting too skinny on the Plains simply led to a quick death and sobbing relatives.

  But even so, she still didn’t feel the need to eat as much in one sitting as this dragon, who, Elina knew, would eat again in a few hours.

  “No. I am fine.”

  “You sure? Another ale?”

  “Water.”

  “And a pitcher of water for my friend.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

  The barmaid walked off, not even looking in Elina’s direction. Elina often received the same treatment from her own people, but she guessed it was for very different reasons.

  Once they were alone again, the dragon focused on Elina and asked, “So what about your family?”

  The stew Elina was about to eat hovered on its spoon, right outside her mouth. She stared at the dragon. She did not understand him. He was supposed to be chatting up the locals. Not pestering her with all his bloody questions.

  “What?”

  “Your family.”

  “What about them?”

  “Are you close to them? Do they like being part of the Steppes Tribes? Do you look like your mother or your father? Does your mother have many husbands? Do you even know who your father is? And what about—”

  “Stop.” She dropped the spoon back into the bowl of stew. “By all death, please stop.” Elina relaxed into her chair and gazed at the dragon. “Your mouth is like panicked horse. It just keeps running.”

  “I’m curious.” He pointed at her with the last piece of bread left until the barmaid brought more. “And you said I could ask you questions during breaks. This is a break.”

  “But you ask too many questions.”

  “You didn’t put a limit on how many questions I could ask.”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  He shrugged and repeated, “I’m curious.”

  “I am surprised your curiosity has not helped you meet death much sooner.”

  “You’d think,” he said with a smile. “I suppose it must be my majestic charm.” He grinned and she glowered. It seemed to be their way these days.

  Elina raised her forefinger. “You can ask me one question about my kin.”

  “Just one?” When she glowered more, he quickly said, “All right. All right. No need to get vicious.”

  The dragon thought a moment, then asked, “How many siblings do you have?”

  Why he was asking her that, Elina had no idea. That question hadn’t been among the ones he’d just asked, and she couldn’t see how the answer would be very interesting to anyone. But if that’s what he wanted to know . . .

  “Twenty-four.”

  “Are you close to any of them?”

  “A-aah.” She raised her forefinger again. “One question. One! ”

  “This is a continuation of the one question. It’s not a new question. Simply a clarification of the original question.”

  “A clarifi—” Elina briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. She did not and would never understand this dragon. “I am close to one. A sister.”

  “Out of twenty-four?”

  Elina must have glowered again because the dragon quickly raised his hands as if to ward her off. “Not a judgment. Just another follow-up question.”

  “My sister Kachka,” she said before he could delve any further, “accepts me just as I am. With all my many flaws.”

  The dragon studied her for a moment, then asked, “What flaws?”

  Elina quickly looked at the dragon, expecting to see that mocking expression of his. But, instead, all she saw was pure confusion. As if he had no idea what she was talking about.

  She had to admit, it was a nice feeling. But she knew that his confusion would not last. Her flaws, like everything else about Elina, were out there for the world to see. . . .

  After purchasing four extra loaves of the wonderful bread served at the inn and stuffing them in his travel bag, Celyn stood. “You ready?” he asked Elina.

  Her reply was to stand and walk away from him. Celyn watched her for a few moments before he followed, stopping by the barmaid to place several gold pieces, including a fat tip, into her palm. He smiled at her and she blushed back, her eyes glancing toward the inn stairs that led to the bedrooms. It was a clear invitation, but Celyn didn’t bother to say yes or no. He simply winked at her and walked out.

  Celyn quickly caught up to Elina as she moved toward the bridge that would take them back to the main road. He threw his arm around her shoulders and deftly steered her around to one of the shops in the main square. He stopped to point at something in the window as if that had been his plan all along.

  “Why do you touch me?” Elina asked.

  “Because we’re not leaving yet,” he said quietly, stepping closer to the shop glass, “but I didn’t want to make a big thing of it.”

  “So you touch me.”

  “Stop complaining. It’s not like I tried to fuck you right here.”

  With a meaningless nod, he moved off from the window, bringing Elina with him. Now they were going in the opposite direction.

  “Where exactly are we going?”

  “To Temple Row.”

  “What is that?”

  “A row of temples.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  “No, no. Just answering your question. There’s no other way to explain it.”r />
  “Then tell me why are we going to row of temples?”

  “Because that’s all they were talking about at the inn. Didn’t you hear?”

  “I could not hear much over your constant chewing. You feed like bear.”

  “I was hungry.”

  Elina stopped, forcing Celyn to stop with her. “You really heard about this in pub?”

  “Yes. Isn’t that why we were there?”

  “But between chewing . . . you were talking. Or asking me questions to make me talk. And you responded to my answers as if you were listening.”

  “I was listening. I find your life fascinating.”

  “Shut up.” Her bright blue eyes narrowed on his face. “You really listened to others while talking to me?”

  Celyn shrugged and admitted. “It’s a skill. My mother can cleave off a dragon’s head by bringing two swords together simultaneously. We all have our talents.”

  “Your mother did seem like cold, unfeeling viper determined to destroy world. . . . I like that in woman.”

  Celyn was about to remind Elina that his mother was not “woman” but then, after glancing around, he decided it was in his best interest not to say anything about that. Instead, he led her down several streets until they reached Temple Row.

  That’s where they both stopped, at the very beginning of the street, and stared.

  “Horses of Ramsfor,” Elina swore beside him.

  Celyn didn’t know who Ramsfor was, but he had to agree with Elina. He might not have traveled as far and wide as some of his kin, but Celyn knew the Southlands quite well. And he’d never seen such a thing before.

  Whispering, Elina noted, “It is like giant cock pointed straight at the heavens.”

  She was right. The Cult of Chramnesind had taken a relatively small piece of land between two temples that had been in those spots for decades and shoved in a building that . . . well . . . that resembled a giant cock. With balls.

  It was set back from the street a bit so that it had a little more room for the “balls,” two rounded buildings attached to either side of the tower. And the tower that stood in the middle traveled straight up and seemed to go on forever. It was taller than he would be as dragon. Gods, the damn thing was taller than Éibhear as dragon! And that alone was shocking.

  The entire building overwhelmed everything else on the street, making the other temples seem puny and weak in comparison.

  Something Celyn was sure had been done on purpose.

  Elina walked toward the building, taking Celyn’s hand and pulling him behind her. But the closer they got, the more unsettled he felt.

  Unlike his royal cousins, Celyn didn’t have definite feelings about any gods. They served their purpose, they sometimes helped, and perhaps if he were more magically inclined, he’d happily turn to them for assistance during spells or whatever. But, in all honesty, he could take or leave the gods. Just like most dragons. So going into temples had never bothered him before.

  Until now. Until this very moment.

  Celyn tried to stop but Elina yanked him along.

  Gods, she’s strong.

  They reached the front doors and a pretty priestess, her hair cut so short that it barely covered her skull, smiled at them.

  “Blessings, lady. Sir.” She stepped to the side and gestured with her hand. “Please . . . join us.”

  Elina walked inside and forced Celyn to follow. The smell of some foreign incense hit him first. And it hit him like a stone wall.

  He stumbled a bit and the Rider glanced back at him, her head cocking to the side. She suddenly reminded him of a dog and he laughed.

  With a shake of her head, she continued on.

  As Celyn walked, he studied the people here. They were on their knees, some with arms outstretched; others with hands clasped. But all were praying to their god. To Chramnesind.

  Who suddenly didn’t seem that bad a chap to Celyn. So Chramnesind thought the offspring of dragons and humans were wrong. Maybe they were. Maybe Celyn’s cousins shouldn’t be here. Maybe Celyn shouldn’t be here. And what about the world? Should the world be here?

  Should any of them?

  “Dolt. Are you listening to me?”

  Celyn blinked, pulled from his absolutely amazing thoughts. “Aye?”

  “What is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing. You know . . . you’re very pretty.”

  “What?”

  “Not in the conventional sense. You’re not Talaith pretty. But she’s astounding. Briec lucked out with her. Though she argues everything with him . . . but I think he likes that. But you are pretty. And a beautiful soul. We should get naked,” he announced, now walking forward, “lay ourselves on that altar, and fuck for the blessings of the gods!”

  He faced Elina, grinned. “What say you, Death Worshipper?”

  Elina grabbed Celyn’s balls and twisted until she had him on his knees, his loud grunts of pain catching everyone’s attention.

  “I will tell you once, Dolt. You will snap out of whatever is happening to you right now or I will tear these off and wear them around neck like ornament.”

  “Is everything all right here?” some fool in white robes asked as he came near.

  Elina glanced around and noticed that there were several men moving in. Close. Too close.

  It was one of the first things that Daughters of the Steppes were taught: never let a group of men get too close. In a lot of ways, they were like wild beast packs and when they got too close to a lone woman, they attacked. That’s why it was so important to keep control of them and make sure they weren’t allowed to congregate in large groups.

  Because they couldn’t be trusted.

  “Get up, Dolt. Now.”

  She released Celyn’s balls and he got to his feet. Reaching under his cape, she grabbed his chain-mail shirt and pulled him through the praying sheep on the ground. As she cut through them, she kicked a few, stepped on others, and forced Celyn to do the same.

  It woke some of them out of their stupor and they shot up, confused and lost, stumbling into the way of the men trying to grab Elina and Celyn. They only slowed those priests for a few seconds, but the distraction gave Elina enough time to run through one of the doors that led into another part of the building. She slammed the door shut and threw the bolt closed.

  She grabbed Celyn’s hand and started down toward the hallway, but more priests came from that direction while banging came from the door behind them.

  “They will get through that in no time, Dolt.”

  “Don’t worry, pretty little lady.” He patted her head. “I will help you.”

  He turned toward the wall, took in a big breath, and then unleashed . . . a big breath.

  “Huh,” Celyn said when he saw that nothing had happened to the wall. “Isn’t that funny?”

  “Not really.”

  A large hand clamped down on Elina’s shoulder and she immediately slapped it off.

  In response, the priest backhanded her across the face. “Insolent fema—”

  His words ended when flames drowned them out, and Elina flew back from the fire as Celyn shoved her out of the way.

  The priest’s screams filled the long hallway and Elina rushed behind Celyn and pushed him down the hall until they reached a large window.

  A priest followed behind her and when he was close, she grabbed him by his robes, spun them both around until she had some momentum, and rammed him into the thick glass. The glass didn’t break, but it shattered a bit. So Elina pulled the priest back and rammed him again, breaking the glass into pieces.

  She dropped the priest’s body, kicked out the shards of glass that could cut them, and forced Celyn through. She quickly followed, took his hand, and started running.

  Celyn didn’t know how long they ran . . . or when they reached their horses . . . or how he got on his horse and started riding . . . or how long they rode.

  He just knew he had to stop, dismount, go off to the side of the road, and throw up e
verything he’d eaten in the last twenty-four hours.

  The vomiting seemed to go on for hours, but he couldn’t have stopped it even if he’d wanted to.

  When, finally, he could think again, Elina was there with a pigskin of water.

  “Here. Drink.”

  He was so dehydrated now, he finished it all.

  “What the hells . . . what the hells happened?”

  “You do not smoke, do you?”

  “Only from my nostrils. And only when I’m annoyed.”

  Elina gave a short laugh. “Not that kind of smoke. Before the Daughters of Steppes ride into battle, we take plants from land, dry them, shred them, and then smoke.”

  “Why?”

  “It makes one feel invincible. And most of the Daughters usually are. I smoked little because I usually stayed back with the old people and the children. But Glebovicha used to force me to attend the ritual anyway . . . to stand by and watch. So that I was well aware that I was not worthy to be among the warriors.” She shrugged. “I have been around so much smoke that none affects me now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m not quite sure. But I really feel like I should say I’m sorry.”

  Elina shook her head. “For this, you should not apologize. This had nothing to do with you and everything to do with these cult people.”

  “This is bad,” Celyn said, forcing himself to stand. “Worse than we thought. I mean, the building alone . . .”

  “It’s like they want all priests and disciples of the other gods to know they are bigger and better.”

  “We can’t stay here. I’m sure they’ll be coming for us.”

  With a shrug, “If they have not caught up to us by now . . .”

  “It’s not like we’ve traveled that far, woman. We can’t wait here for them to show up.”

  Elina studied Celyn for a long moment without saying a word.

  “What?” he pushed when the silence went on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

  “We have been on road for five hours.”