Page 2 of Fallen for the Two-Headed Dragon

She ran and ran and didn’t look back, too terrified to consider that there were other things in these woods willing to eat her.

Chapter Two

Rathym

Fire was always a mesmerizing subject to Rathym. As a Fireborn, he’d grown up steeped in the traditions of the Great Flame. Fire poured from his throat with a familiar burn as he used the flames to rebuild and reshape the mountain. Fireborn were notoriously strong-willed and stubborn, forces to be reckoned with just like their element.

With the assistance of an ancient potion, Fireborn had been using their fire to hide in plain sight for millennia. Although the mountain rock was not hot to his touch, it glowed under his flames like embers of lava. Their bright orange mimicked the package aglow in the corner of his eye, mocking him with every glance he sent its way.

This latest mountain was more malleable than the ones before. The solid rock above him thundered and groaned under his ministrations, the enormous formation working double-time to resist his changes.

Rathym would not be moving his lair again. This was the last time. He hadn’t been alive for over five centuries just to lie down and surrender his hard-earned things. This new home would be his, his alone, for his remaining time alive. If the human population continued to encroach, he would raze their cities to the ground. He would not consider returning to his traitorous homeland, not even if his stomach turned to ice and no fire graced his mouth again.

Besides, his collection of valuables had grown so massive that it was a pain to keep lugging around to new mountains.

Not that he didn’t love sorting through his belongings. He did. He enjoyed the act of setting them up along the walls, creating shelving units in the stone to adorn with beautiful things, sorting the rest into piles. He loved to reminisce over his cherished treasures.

He didn’t love to reminisce about his past. The shimmering orange summons hummed from its discarded spot on the dining table. The ghosts that haunted him had spent centuries looming in the back of his mind, but now they threatened to implode their thresholds.

With an aggravated harrumph, Rathym nudged the magic-laced parcel onto the floor and swiftly kicked it under the table. He would deal with it later. Right now, his new home required his full attention. A convenient distraction.

A distraction he’d been reliant on for nearly a week. He would have to open the parcel soon and assess the importance of its contents. The Fire Council would not contact him now, two centuries after his hostile departure, if the circumstances weren’t dire. It was possible that he’d already procrastinated too long, rendering any aid he could provide useless.

Fortunately, there was no one alive in that realm that he still felt a responsibility to save.

The new cave was large enough to accommodate an additional pile. An exciting venture. What should he categorize into the new space? Perhaps by rank of beauty? A pile for enchanted items already existed, as did elven treasures gifted to Rathym before the fall of the great species. Other piles included gold, silver, and things that were just rather neat. He was sure to come up with something.

He backed into a corner to examine his handiwork. It was adequate, but would be more aesthetically pleasing once he finished decorating.

His tail bumped something under the table. In his recklessness, he’d positioned the summons in a horrible place. He quickly moved his tail, but the damage was done. The parcel now bore a gash in its packaging. It would be a matter of time before the whole parcel vanished, whether he’d read it or not.

“Cursed flame!” Rathym swore as he downshifted and snatched the folder. There was no way to know how quickly it would disappear. That depended on how classified the information was. Of course, if he were still in possession of his council-appointed signet ring, he would be able to force the enchanted parcel to remain even after its expiration.

Unfortunately, his ring was long gone. Anything inside the thick folder would dissipate after whatever length of time the council had deemed appropriate.

A stack of papers almost an inch thick goaded him. What could they possibly want from Rathym that required this much parchment? He eased the first piece from the front and began to read.

Sir Rathym Odrydimere, Grand Commander of the Fire Sworn Elite Forces, Regent to the Young Princess of Elvendale…

“Former,” he grumbled.

A muffled scream alerted him to a presence near his home’s entrance. He immediately shifted back into his larger form, prepared to stand his ground when the intruder descended.

These cozy living quarters came equipped with a hidden entrance—a hole disguised as a burrow. He’d decided it had to be his immediately. All the better to keep prying human pests away. Although it had been a challenge to load his hoard through. He’d had to make a sort of back entrance that he promptly destroyed with an intentional rockfall the following day, which rearranged much of the mountain into staggered cliffs.

The petrified scream hurtled down the tunnel entrance and landed with a painful sounding thud.

A new precious item for my collection.

Rathym was an old-fashioned dragon and understood perfectly what it meant when something fell into his lair.

Very slowly, he placed the stack of parchment on the table. Careful not to scare the puny thing, he stood perfectly still and observed their reaction to this unsettling new arrangement.

This new piece of treasure was enchanting indeed. Their features rivaled those of any elf from Elvendale. Other than their phenomenal bone structure, however, they seemed ill-equipped for survival. They fumbled around like a blind mouse searching for scraps at a picnic, not to mention their delicious scent was sure to draw the ravenous beasts from their depths in the woods.

After he was content that he’d spent enough time observing his new jewel and had provided it with adequate time to adjust, he leaned in for closer inspection.

A human of female persuasion. He dragged in a deep breath of her scent to confirm. Yes, it was a distinctly powerful female pheromone. Even as a sweaty musk, it smelled so tantalizing he couldn’t help but lick his lips.

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