Chapter 14
After the chaos of the battle and their mad dive through the Black Reach’s kaleidoscope of fire, the sudden stillness inside the Leviathan felt like someone had pulled a plug on the world. The hole they’d flown through closed immediately, leaving Julius gasping in the dark, but while nothing hurt, he couldn’t see or feel his body, or anything else.
“Marci!” he called frantically, feeling around. “Marci!”
“I’m here,” Marci said, her voice surprisingly close. “But I can’t see you.”
“I can’t see you, either,” Julius said, his voice confused and frustratingly disembodied. The Black Reach had said his fire would protect them inside as well, but he couldn’t see a—
Light blossomed around him, making him jump. All over his body, the strange, thick darkness was boiling away to reveal a warm glow that came from below his feathers. It reached Marci a heartbeat later, revealing her face, and then her body in a slow unraveling as the light from his fire pushed back the dark. The change was primal and slow, but eventually it covered them both, surrounding them in a bubble of warm illumination that felt unspeakably old and fragile. The soft glow looked nothing like the brilliant multicolored fire outside, but it smelled strongly of the Black Reach, and when the flames crackled over Julius’s skin, they spoke in his voice.
You don’t have much time, the Black Reach’s fire whispered. I gave as much as I dared, but though he is not yet fully here, the Nameless End eats quickly. He will eat me too if you do not hurry.
“Then we’d better get moving,” Julius said, looking at the wall of liquid dark beyond the circle of the Black Reach’s flickering protection. “Any idea where to start?”
Marci shrugged helplessly, and the Black Reach said nothing. In hindsight, Julius wasn’t actually sure if he’d been talking to the construct himself, or if the words had been a message bottled up for him in the fire. Either way, it seemed they were alone in here for real now, assuming there was a “here” at all.
The inside of the Leviathan was empty in a way Julius had never felt. Even with the Black Reach’s fire illuminating the space directly around them, Julius wouldn’t have known there was a floor if his feet hadn’t been planted on it. It had no texture or temperature, no feeling of any sort. It was just… nothing. He couldn’t even smell the magic anymore, and the lack of it was making his dragon body feel heavier than ever. Much more of this, and he’d be forced back into his human shape whether he wanted it or not. Yet another timer they were going to have to beat to have a prayer of pulling this off. But just as Julius was wondering how one navigated through nothingness, his nose caught the faint scent of lake water.
His head shot up so fast Marci jumped. “I smell her,” he said, breathing deeply. “That way.”
He took a tentative step in the direction of the scent, pressing his foot down on the emptiness beneath them. But while there was no sensation at all—no movement, no solidity, not even the pressure of his own weight—he didn’t fall into the blackness, which was good enough.
“What are we walking on?” Marci asked, tapping her shoe against the blackness. “Leviathan guts?”
“Who knows?” Julius said. “We’re inside a Nameless End. Physics might not even apply here.”
“If that’s the case, why are we wasting time being cautious?” Marci asked, hopping back into position between his wings. “Let’s fly!”
Flying when you couldn’t see where you were going was a terrible idea. Technically, though, this entire journey was a terrible idea. Julius saw no point in being cautious now, so he spread his wings, pushing off the strange emptiness with his claws.
It was one of the oddest experiences of Julius’s life. Flying through nothingness made even less sense than walking on it, but while he felt no wind under his feathers or lift in his wings, it did seem like he was going faster. It might well have been all in his head since, without landmarks or anything to judge distance by, actual relative speed was impossible to determine. But flapping made him feel like he was doing something, so Julius kept it up, pumping his wings as hard as he could as he followed the lake water scent like a bloodhound through the dark.
It took forever. Having just battled it, Julius was painfully aware of how huge the Leviathan was. He’d been flying at what felt like top speed for several minutes now, but the scent wasn’t getting any closer. He was beginning to worry it was all in his head, and they weren’t actually moving at all, when he spotted a spark of light in the distance.
The glow was as faint as a distant star. If everything else hadn’t been so unrelentingly black, Julius would have missed it entirely. As they got closer, though, he realized the spot wasn’t actually glowing. It was simply not dark—a small, muddy circle of cloudy, greenish-brown water no wider than a manhole cover. The puddle didn’t even ripple when he landed beside it, and the scent of lake water was only moderately stronger than it had been at the beginning. He was lowering his snout to the surface to make sure this was the source of the smell he’d been chasing when a woman’s hand shot out of the water and grabbed his nose.
Julius jumped backward, almost knocking Marci off as he frantically scrambled out of reach, but he needn’t have bothered. Unlike every other time he’d encountered Algonquin, the hand that grabbed him now was as weak as the muddy water it appeared to be. It broke the moment he jerked away, falling back into the puddle with a tired, exasperated splash that warped into two wet words.
“Go away.”
“No,” Julius said, crouching at the pool’s edge so Marci could climb down. “We went through a lot of trouble to get here, and we’re not leaving until we speak with you.”
Considering the finality of their situation, Julius fully expected Algonquin to tell him to sit there until they all died. To his surprise, though, the watery hand reemerged, followed by an arm, and then a body as Algonquin hauled herself out of the tiny puddle, her blank-mirror face still managing to glare somehow when it turned to reflect his own.
“Come to beg for your life, dragon?” she whispered, her once-roaring voice now as quiet as a spring rain. “I’m afraid you’re too late. It’s over. I’ve won.”
“Won?” Marci cried, stepping forward with Ghost in her arms. “You fed us to a Nameless End! That’s not you winning. That’s everyone losing!”
“Typical human,” Algonquin said. “Ignorant to the bitter end. But make no mistake, this will be your end, not ours.”
“If you believe that, you’re delusional,” Marci said, her face furious. “I’ve been to the Sea of Magic, Algonquin. Your monster is getting ready to eat a lot more than just dragons and humans.”
“But not forever.” The spirit lifted her watery head proudly. “The End and I struck a deal. I give him myself, all current magic, every living thing, and the rest of our world down to the bedrock, and in return, he promised to leave the land when he moves on. It may be barren rock for a long time, but eventually, life will return. New spirits will rise from that barren ground, and the world will be reborn.” Her murky water curled into something like a smile. “A new world, clean and pure. A world without you.”
Marci clenched her shaking fists, but Algonquin’s words actually gave Julius hope. He’d known she wouldn’t truly destroy the world. It went too hard against everything he’d heard about her, and what she’d said herself. Her dream had always been to return to the time when the Spirits of the Land were the only spirits. From that perspective, sacrificing herself to the Leviathan so he could eat their world down to the core made a twisted sort of sense. Spirits were eternal. So long as land existed in some form, they would always rise again. They could afford to wait the eons it would take things to recover, especially since, without humans or dragons, there’d be no competition getting in their way. Algonquin clearly saw herself as a martyr, trading her life for a better future for everyone. There was just one catch.
“Do you really believe he’ll stop?”
Algonquin’s head snapped toward him. “You have no right to question me, worm!” she cried, her muddy water boiling. “It is because of you and the humans that I was forced to do this!”
“We didn’t force you to do anything,” Julius said calmly. “You chose to make a deal with the Leviathan. But what assurance do you have that he’s going to stop where he said he would? He’s a Nameless End. That doesn’t leave much room for compromise.”
Algonquin tilted her head, distorting the reflection of Julius’s face as her water rippled. “I remember you. You’re the little Heartstriker from Reclamation Land. The one who talked too much.”
“That’s me,” Julius said. “But this needs to be talked about. You’re gambling everything on the word of a planar force whose existence revolves around doing the one thing he’s promising you he won’t. He could eat this entire plane the moment he finishes you off, and you wouldn’t even know. How can you trust him?”
“A fine question from a dragon,” the spirit said coldly. “Your kind has no concept of faith or obligation. But you’re right. He is untrustworthy, but no more so than the rest of you. I’d rather gamble on his honor than put my faith in the humans and their Mortal Spirits. At least the Nameless End is honest about his desire to destroy.”
She turned to Marci and Ghost as she said this, her reflective face throwing back a distorted image of their growing anger.
“How did you get this twisted?” Marci cried, clutching her spirit. “How can you trust a creature who eats planes over your fellow spirits? He’s the inimical alien force here, not us! The magic that I use and that makes up Ghost is no different from the magic that fills your lakes. We’re the same. Why can’t you see that?”
“Because it’s not true!” Algonquin cried, rising up in a fury. “I am the land! You are simply an out-of-control infection, and that thing you call spirit”—she threw out her hand toward Ghost so hard, the muddy water of her fingers splashed onto his white fur—“is nothing more than the power you’ve surrendered to your out-of-control emotions! If I’d done nothing, my kind would be yours to abuse and exploit just as you exploited our land while we slept.” She flung her arm out at Marci next, pointing an accusing watery finger in the mage’s face. “You pushed me to this! This is all your fault!”
She was shaking so hard by the time she finished, her face could no longer hold a reflection. Julius could practically see the two-headed monster of rage and fear consuming what little was left of the once great Lady of the Lakes in front of his eyes. But though she’d been his kind’s greatest enemy since they’d come here, all he felt for her now was pity.
“This isn’t you, Algonquin.”
“Shut up!” she snarled. “You are the worst of all! The others are a cancer, but at least they are a failing of this world. You are nothing but a parasite. A freeloader, feeding on our power. You have no right to be here!”
“But I am here,” Julius said firmly. “We’re all here, Algonquin, because this is the world now. I’m sure you thought things were paradise back when your spirits were the only ones, but that time is gone. Even if your plan works, and the Nameless End does stop where he promised, your ‘victory’ will be a barren rock. Whatever rises from those ashes won’t be the world you knew. It’ll be something else entirely, a new land with new powers struggling desperately to survive on the burned crumbs of a once-beautiful world. That’s what you’re leaving for the future. That’s what you’re calling victory.”
“You think this is what I wanted?” Algonquin roared, splashing cold water onto his feathers as she rose over him. “My plan was to muzzle the magic back to a level where Mortal Spirits wouldn’t rise! I would have done it too, if not for them.” She threw a line of cold water at Marci and Ghost, who jumped back. “They are the ones who ruined my paradise. This was never what I wanted, but it’s all I have left!”
“That doesn’t mean you have to take it!” Julius cried, rising up on his hind feet so he could look her in the face. “Just because you can’t go back to how things were doesn’t mean you have to destroy what we have now. There’s nothing stopping us from making a new paradise except you. If you’d stop hating us for a moment and listen, we could—”
“Why should I listen?” she demanded. “What have dragons done for this world except take? What have humans done except defile the land and fill it with monsters?” Her water opened like fangs. “I have every right to hate you!”
“But what has that gotten you?” Marci asked.
The cloudy water jerked. “Excuse me?”
“No one can argue the damage humans have done,” Marci said, hugging her glowing cat against her chest. “We’ve done terrible things, and you have every right to be mad about them, but hating something doesn’t fix the problem. I’ve had a front-row seat for every one of your sketchy plans to stop the Mortal Spirits, and not a single one has made things better for you or the things you claim to care about. I was willing to work with you in Reclamation Land, but you wouldn’t even listen to a compromise. You tried to use Ghost and me by force, and when that didn’t work, you fed your precious Spirits of the Land into the chipper-shredder to get enough magic to raise the DFZ as a slave to Myron so he could be the first Merlin.”
Her face grew furious. “Do you have any idea the good you could have done with that much power? How much better everything could have been if you’d used your magic to greet the confused, newborn Mortal Spirit of the DFZ in peace instead of stomping on her? The DFZ turned out to be amazing! She could have been an incredible ally if you hadn’t treated her like a fighting dog, but you did. You were so busy hating us, you didn’t even think about trying something different, and now you’re doing it again. You’ve chosen over and over to be the villain, and now you’ve sided with this monster against your own world! Your Spirits of the Land, the ones you claim to be doing all of this for, they’re so afraid of what you’ve done that they willingly gave their magic to me so I could try and stop it!”
Algonquin pulled back. “The banishment,” she whispered. “That was their magic?”
“It was everyone’s magic,” Marci said. “Land, Animal, Mortal—they all volunteered because they were scared to death of what you did! But even though my banishment failed, I’m still happy I tried, because it proved what I’ve been saying all along.”
“That I’m the enemy?” Algonquin said bitterly.
Marci shook her head. “That we’re all the same.” She looked down at Ghost in her arms. “You always talked about the Mortal Spirits like they were aliens, some kind of new invasion completely separate from other spirits, but they’re not. Ghost’s vessel might have been carved by humans instead of geology, but he protects the forgotten dead just like you protect your waters and your fish. If you need more proof, look at Raven. He figured out ages ago that the lines we drew to divide spirit types are nonsense, and he used that knowledge to become something more.”
“Do not speak that traitor’s name!” Algonquin snarled, her watery head turning as she searched the dark around them. “Where is he anyway? Lurking in the shadows for the right moment to swoop down and say something dramatic?”
“He’s not here,” Marci said, her face grim. “He gave up his magic just like everyone else to try to banish you before you destroyed everything. He hasn’t risen again yet. At this rate, he might never do so.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Algonquin looked sad, her murky water drooping. Then she pulled herself back together. “It does not matter,” she said. “Raven was always against me.”
“You were against you,” Marci said. “Raven was always the one trying to save you.”
“He was a fool,” Algonquin spat. “But it doesn’t matter.” She slipped back into her muddy pool. “Criticize me all you like, mortal, but it’s too late. This world is already finished.”
“But it’s not!” Julius cried, grabbing the water with his claws. “That’s why we risked so much to come here! Because we’re all still alive, and so are you. You’re not dead yet, Algonquin! There’s still time to change your mind.”
The pool of water scoffed. “And do what? Join you? Forget the wrongs I’ve suffered and embrace those who hate me just as much as I hate them?”
“It was you who made us enemies,” Ghost said, his cold voice startlingly soft as he hopped out of Marci’s arms. “The DFZ and I were not born hating you. You taught us to hate through your actions. You killed the hundreds of thousands of people whose anger woke me from my sleep. You enslaved the city you built. Those are your sins, Algonquin. Not ours.”
“Your kind are the ones who taught mine to fear,” the water spirit snapped. “You were so out of control, your own Merlins shut down the magic because they couldn’t deal with you. Where’s the callout for those sins, cat?”
“That’s unfair,” Marci argued. “You can’t blame Ghost for what Mortal Spirits did before the drought any more than you can blame me for what human mages did a thousand years before I was born.”
“So I should ignore them? Do nothing?” She pointed at the Empty Wind. “His kind trampled mine and turned the world into a hell. Do you expect me to forget that just because he did? He’s as immortal as I am! The Empty Wind blew back then just as it does now, but unlike the Mortal Spirits, I did not wake ignorant. I learned from the past to act in the present before it ruined my future!”
Marci responded with something cutting, but Julius wasn’t listening anymore. He didn’t need to. The arguments might be different, but the dug-in anger he heard in their voices was the same as he’d heard all his life. Marci and the spirits were stuck in the same cycle of violence and revenge that Julius had been banging his head against ever since he’d found the courage to lift it. But as frustrating as that was, it gave him hope, because while he was an outsider when it came to spirit magic, this was a problem he knew as well as his own fire.
“It has to stop.”
The spirits and Marci jumped in surprise at his voice, and then Algonquin’s water hit him in the face like a slap.
“This is none of your affair,” she snarled. “You do not get to speak here, dragon.”
“It’s because I’m a dragon that I can say this,” Julius replied, shaking the water off his feathers. “I’ve seen the damage hate and vengeance do to everything they touch. Just look at what they’ve done to you.” He looked pointedly down at the pathetic stretch of muddy water. “You were the Lady of the Great Lakes, the most powerful spirit in North America. Now you’d fit in a bucket.”
The water shivered. “You dare mock me?”
“I’m not mocking you,” he said. “I’m drawing your attention to the results of your actions. I understand why you did it. You saw your world changing, and you blamed the humans and the Mortal Spirits because they were the face of that change, but not once did you stop and remember that you’re a product of change as well. Your five lakes used to be one. Before the last ice age, they weren’t there at all. The source was different, but as Marci already pointed out, you were born into this world the same as any other spirit. Or any dragon.”
“You are not of our world,” she spat.
“But I was born here,” Julius said. “So was my mother and every other living dragon. The Three Sisters you killed were the last dragons born in our old world. The rest of us were made right here, same as the humans or any other animal. Now that Amelia has tied our magic to this plane, we really are native, and we’re fighting now to protect our world just like you are.”
“This is not your world,” Algonquin rumbled, pointing at Ghost and Marci. “It’s not their world, either. It’s my world!”
“And in a few minutes, it’ll be no one’s world,” Julius growled. “Don’t you get it? You’ve been so busy fighting for what you think you lost, you can’t even see what you’re actually losing right now!”
“I lose nothing,” Algonquin said, slapping her water against the blackness. “This is my chosen victory! I would rather die here alone than live on in a world where I am ruled by Mortal Spirits, defiled by humans, and plagued by dragons!”
“But that’s just it!” Julius cried. “You’re so convinced that change is your enemy, you’ve forgotten that you can change, too. Everything can! If you don’t like how a tree is growing, you don’t burn it to the ground. You help it—prune it, tie it, coax it in a different direction. The future’s no different. As Ghost just said, Mortal Spirits didn’t come out hating you. You taught them that, because the only one who’s ever acted like it’s our way or the highway is you. But the good news is that you can change your mind.”
“Impossible,” Ghost growled. “She will never change. Her hate is too deep.”
“Everything can change,” Julius said. “Two months ago, I thought my clan would always be a nest of vipers, but this afternoon, I watched all of Heartstriker fight alongside clans we’ve been enemies with for centuries.” He turned back to Algonquin. “If stubborn old dragons can change to survive, you can. I mean, you’re water! All you do is change, so change now. Let the old grudges go. Look forward instead of backward. If you can’t live in this world, then work with us to build one you can live in. But if you destroy everything now, then it’s over for everyone, including the lakes you’ve fought so hard all this time to protect.”
That last part was the most important. Julius had been taught from birth to see Algonquin as his enemy, but even when he’d lived in her shadow in the DFZ, he’d never doubted her dedication to her lakes. Everything she’d done, including this, was to protect the land and those who came from it, and that gave him hope. She’d made a lot of terrible choices, but anyone who could die for others could surely be convinced to live for them instead. Even the fact that she’d held on to the Leviathan for sixty years before using it was a sign that Algonquin wasn’t an implacable enemy. She was just desperate and cornered, like Estella had been, or Chelsie.
Like himself.
When Marci had died, he could have done terrible things. Would have, if Chelsie hadn’t stopped him. When she’d grabbed him, the line between tragedy and survival had come down to a single moment. One decision to bend instead of break. To keep moving forward instead of dying with his fangs in his enemy’s throat. It was a choice that couldn’t be forced, couldn’t be demanded. It could only be asked, so that was what Julius did now, lowering his head respectfully before the Algonquin.
“Please,” he said, bowing before the spirit who’d wanted him and all his kind dead for ten thousand years. “Don’t give up yet. All of us are here right now because we’re too stubborn to die. That’s common ground, so let’s stand on it. Let’s be stubborn together. Let’s fight and argue and refuse to give up until we’ve hammered out a world we can all live with. It might take a long time, and things might get worse before they get better, but if we just keep going, there’s nothing that can stop us from getting where we want to be. All I’m asking is that you keep trying with us. Please, Algonquin.”
A long silence fell when he finished, and then the lake spirit sighed. “You beg surprisingly well for a dragon.”
“I’m not begging,” Julius said, lifting his head. “I’m asking you to do what you know is right. It’s not over. You can still fix this.”
“No,” she said, cowering in her puddle. “It was the only way. The Mortal Spirits—”
“What could Mortal Spirits do to you that’s worse than what you’ve done to yourself?” Julius demanded. “I’ve seen your lakes, Algonquin! Your shores are dry. Your fish are dead. The Leviathan took every drop of water from them, and you let him. You were their spirit, their god, and you let them die.”
“Stop,” Algonquin whispered, sinking lower.
“I can’t stop,” Julius said angrily. “Not until you do. You’ve always claimed you were fighting to protect the land. Now’s your chance to prove it. Stop this, Algonquin. Don’t be the hammer that breaks the only home we have.”
By the time he finished, Algonquin’s muddy puddle was smaller than a dinner plate. When she didn’t rise again, Julius was terrified they were too late, that the Leviathan had already finished her off. Then her water started to shake, and Julius understood. Algonquin wasn’t being devoured. She was crying, weeping in ripples that quickly grew to waves.
“I can’t,” she sobbed. “Don’t you see? It’s too late. Even if I wanted to stop, I already let him in.”
She lifted a watery hand as she finished, and Julius gasped. In the dark of the emptiness, Algonquin’s water had looked muddy, but now that a bit of her was stretched out under the soft light of the Black Reach’s fire, Julius saw the truth. Algonquin wasn’t murky at all. Like always, her water was crystal clear. The off color was merely an illusion created by thousands of dark, tiny lines running through her body. The way they spread reminded Julius of roots, but there was nothing plantlike about the hungry way the black tips twitched and moved, crawling through Algonquin’s water like predators as they ate her alive.
“There is no more choice,” she whispered, pulling her arm back down. “He’s in every drop of my magic now. When he’s finished consuming all the water from my physical lakes, he will be me, and our world will be his.”
The defeat in her voice made Julius tremble. Even Marci was shaking, her whole body wobbling as she dropped to her knees beside Algonquin’s murky shallows. “There has to be a way to reverse it,” she said. “It’s still your water. What if we—”
“There is nothing,” Algonquin said bitterly. “Everywhere I look, everything I touch, he’s already there, and I’m so tired. I’ve fought for so long now, lost so many times. If I could go back and do things differently, maybe this wouldn’t have been such a waste, but as Raven loved to croak at me, we can never go back. The past is gone, and soon, I will be too.” The puddle sloshed resentfully. “I’m sure that brings you joy.”
“How can you think that?” Julius asked, heartbroken. “What have I ever said that could make you believe this is anything but a tragedy for everyone?”
The water gurgled, sinking even lower into her shrinking pool. “You are truly the strangest dragon I’ve ever met,” she said quietly. “I wish we’d had this conversation decades ago, back when it might have done some good. But now…”
She let out a long, watery sigh, and then she lifted her head, raising her mirrored face from the hand-sized splash of water that was all that was left of her. “I will not apologize. This isn’t how I meant for things to end, but I only did what I thought I must to protect my world, and I will never be sorry for that.”
Knowing she’d had the best intentions just made everything worse. At this point, Julius almost wished she’d died cursing them. The hate would have stung, but at least it would have been a clean ending, not this bitter, tragic mess. Looking at Algonquin, all he could think was that if only he’d been better, said something sooner, he could have prevented this. They’d spoken before, but he’d always been too distracted by other disasters to pay attention to why Algonquin was acting the way she was. If he’d taken the time, looked harder, maybe everything would have been different. Because she wasn’t a monster. None of them were. Dragons, spirits, humans—they were all just flawed, floundering souls fumbling their way as best they could. Now they’d fumbled right off the cliff, and by the time Julius realized what was happening, it was too late.
That was what ate at him the most. Not the loss or the death, but the waste. The deep unfairness of fighting so hard only to discover you’d never had a chance. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t lose. Not after how hard they’d tried. Not after everything they’d been through.
And just like that, Julius came to a decision of his own. It took only a moment, barely a thought, but he must have spent way too much time with Bob lately, because Julius could have sworn he felt the future pivot toward a new direction as he raised his head to look at Algonquin again.
“If things had been different,” he asked quietly, “if you could do everything over, knowing what you know now, would you work with us?”
The spirit’s mirrored face flashed with annoyance, but the inevitability of their coming deaths must have been enough to defang even Algonquin’s hatred, because in the end, she just shrugged what was left of her water. “Perhaps. I certainly wouldn’t have given up like I did. I would never have run to you with open arms, but if I could go back and do it all again…” She thought a moment longer, and then her head bobbed. “I would have acted differently, yes.”
That was all Julius needed to know. “Marci?”
She lifted her head hopelessly. “If you’re looking to me for a solution, don’t bother, ’cause I’ve got nothing.”
“That’s not why I’m looking at you,” he said, leaning down to rest his feathered head on hers. “I love you.”
Marci looked surprised by the sudden show of affection, which made Julius feel guilty for not telling her the truth sooner. If they’d had time, he could have gone on forever about how much meeting her had changed his life for the better and how important she was to him. But Algonquin’s puddle was shrinking by the second, so he had to settle for a final deep breath, holding the air that smelled of Marci and magic in his mouth as long as he dared. Then, when he couldn’t stall any longer, Julius turned to the lake spirit and lurched forward, sinking his teeth deep into what was left of Algonquin.
As runt of his clutch, Julius had never been much of a dragon. He was awful in a fight, couldn’t cast spells, had terrible control of his fire, and generally failed at everything most dragons considered vital to survival. But while he was a disappointment in every traditional sense, there were two things Julius did very well: being fast and ignoring the instincts that ruled other dragons’ lives, including, in this particular instance, the drive toward self-preservation.
He bit Algonquin like a striking viper, sinking his teeth into painfully cold water that tasted of fish and death. If he’d had a thought to spare for such luxuries, he would have been proud since this was probably the best hit any dragon had ever landed on the Lady of the Lakes, but his target wasn’t actually the spirit. He was going for the tendrils that ran through her, the threads of the creature who was not from their world. Those were what Julius was eying when his jaws snapped down, devouring all that was left of Algonquin in one quick bite.
“Dragon!” The lake spirit’s voice was a roar as she poured down his throat. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you another chance,” Julius said, or tried to say. The black threads twisting down his throat hurt far more than he’d anticipated. Even with Marci screaming at him, he couldn’t make a sound. Thankfully, everything else seemed to be working perfectly.
As cold and magical as she tasted, Algonquin’s water flowed down his throat just like any other liquid. He could actually feel her spreading through his blood as she was absorbed into his body, the chill of her touch spidering through his brain as she panicked, which made him sad. He hadn’t wanted to scare her, but if he’d explained what he intended to do before he did it, he’d have risked tipping the Leviathan off. He’d hoped to tell her the truth now, but eating the Leviathan’s tendrils had hurt so much more than he’d expected. More than anything ever had, including the beating he’d gotten from Gregory. Painful as it was, though, he had to say something, because if Algonquin didn’t understand what he was doing, it was all for nothing.
“I’m a dragon,” he choked out at last. “Mostly water, like any other animal. But I’m also an outsider. A creature from another plane.” He broke off, catching a few rapid breaths before forcing himself to continue. “The Black Reach’s magic is still the pure fire of my ancestors. It’s what’s been keeping the Leviathan from eating us all this whole time. I figured if the fire could stop him from eating Marci and me, it could keep him from eating you too.”
But he already ate me! Algonquin’s voice cried in his mind. Now he’s in both of us!
Julius grinned a bloody grin. “But you can leave me. The Leviathan can’t get through the Black Reach’s magic or he would have done it by now, but you’re water. You can move through anything, and I’ve seen you use dragon blood before.”
There was quite a lot of blood now. The smell of Marci had long since been overwhelmed by the rich, salty flush of dragon blood dripping down his teeth as the Leviathan’s tendrils screamed and ripped him apart from the inside.
“Take it,” Julius gasped, collapsing on the ground in the middle of the new pool that was forming on the ground. His pool, made of his blood. “I’m giving it to you.”
The spirit in his head collapsed into stunned silence. Then, in a quiet, broken voice, she whispered, Why?
“Because I can,” he whispered back, coughing. “There was never much chance of me getting out of this alive, but now you have a shot. Flow out through my blood, take Marci, and escape. I know you can move between any of your waters, and there should still be a few drops left in your lakes to run to.”
“No!” Marci screamed in his ear, grabbing his head in her frantic hands. “Don’t you dare, Julius!”
“I’ll hold him here as long as I can,” Julius went on, desperate to get the words out while he still could. “Go, Algonquin. I’ve bought you a second chance. Choose again. Choose differently.” He smiled. “Choose us.”
A coughing fit forced his eyes closed after that. When he got them open again, he was staring into the puddle of his blood, its surface shimmering in the reflected radiance of the Black Reach’s fire. Inside his stomach, the bit of the Leviathan he’d swallowed was fighting harder than ever, ripping him to shreds from the inside as it fought to get back to Algonquin, but it was too late. The cold presence of the lake spirit had already flowed out of him, dripping into the red pool along with the rest of his blood. The liquid churned as she took hold of it, and then the shimmering liquid rose up, turning to look at him with a perfect reflection of his own face. A clear reflection, free of the tendrils that were desperately trying to eat through his body to get to her.
If he’d been any good with his fire, he might have been able to backdraft his flames down his throat and force the Leviathan’s tendrils down again and buy more time, but Julius had always been rubbish at that sort of thing. Justin had always said his lack of ability in anything resembling dragon combat would get him killed one day. Too bad Julius wouldn’t have a chance to tell his brother he’d been right.
He didn’t want his last thought to be Justin’s “I told you so,” so Julius looked at Marci instead. It was easy since she was in front of him now, and looking angrier than he’d ever seen her as she screamed at him that he couldn’t die. That she wouldn’t let him. But as terrible as he felt doing this to her, a small, selfish, draconic part of Julius treasured that she cared enough to be so furious. He wanted to gather that love-driven anger up and hoard it like the precious gem it was, but he was so tired. He couldn’t even lift his head anymore.
Marci started to cry then, which hurt even more than the Leviathan. Julius wanted to tell her he was sorry, that this was the only way he’d known to save things, but it was too late. Even a dragon’s ability to heal wasn’t enough to keep up with the thousands of cuts the Leviathan was making inside him. The best he could manage was to wheeze Marci’s name before Algonquin rose from the now very large pool of his blood and yanked the mage into it, dragging them both down through the blood and hopefully into the safety of her lakes.
It would have to be hopefully, because Julius had no way to know for sure. The Leviathan had finally ground a hole in the Black Reach’s protective fire. As the light faded, tendrils started coming at him from the outside as well, stabbing into his body like jagged knives from all directions. The bigger tentacles were just starting to appear when his heart finally stuttered to a stop, and Julius Heartstriker, youngest son of Bethesda, Founder of the Heartstriker Clan Council, Diplomat’s Fang, and all-around Nice Dragon, finally did what most of his family had been telling him to do for the last twenty-five years.
He died.