A Destiny of Dragons (Tales From Verania #2)

But then there was a flash of light in the distance, shimmering in the heat waves. There was something there, a smudge against the horizon where the flash had come from.

“What is it?” I asked quietly, even though I knew. “You can see better than I can.”

“Ruins,” Kevin said. “It looks like ruins.”




IT SAT in the middle of a valley of sorts, a tumbling pile of black stone. There was the outline of a structure there, something that had long since collapsed. There were archways and pillars, almost as if it’d been a castle of sorts. I dug back in my memory as far as I could go to see if I could remember any mention of a castle this far out in the Luri Desert, but I came up empty.

The sand dune we came upon was smaller compared to the rest around the ruins, the grade shallow as it dipped down. A large flat length of sand stretched out ahead of the ruins, something we’d have to cross if we had any hopes of reaching the crumbling rock. From where we stood, I could see a large dome in the middle of the ruins, cracked and decayed. The side of the dome facing us had collapsed, leaving an entrance that was hidden in shadow. I thought it was a good possibility that the search for the dragon would start there. I tried not to think about the idea of a gigantic lizard snake burrowing in tunnels underneath our feet.

Ruv had been leading the way, but he’d stopped before we stepped out onto the flat sand ahead of us. He was tense, shoulders squared, looking out across the expanse. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but I didn’t see anything myself, aside from the fact that he was hesitating when we were so close to reaching our target. Why he was trying to delay the inevitable, I had no idea.

“We don’t have time for this,” I growled, attempting to push past him.

His arm shot up against my chest, holding me back. “You don’t want to do that,” he said. “Trust me.”

I scoffed. “You know I don’t. We have a job to do, though I’m still not quite sure how to do it. And since you aren’t exactly in the know either, expert, I think you should let me go.”

“And if you don’t take your hand off of him,” Ryan said, gripping the handle of the sword at his side, “I can remove it for you.”

Ruv muttered something in his native tongue that I was sure was not a compliment before pulling his pack off his back. He dropped the wooden contraption into the sand, the cloth around it fluttering. He reached into the pack and pulled out three spherical stones, all smooth and bone-white. He was still grumbling to himself as he fitted the pack back around him and held out one stone to Ryan, one to me, and kept the other one for himself. “You throw left,” he told Ryan. “Sam, right. I will throw down the middle. As hard as you can.”

I could admit to being curious, which is probably why I didn’t argue. Ryan glanced at me, and I shrugged. Ruv knew something we didn’t, and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

I threw my stone. It landed a good distance away, but instead of a puff of sand when it landed, the sand itself rippled, as if I’d thrown it into water.

“Um,” Gary said. “What just happened?”

“Bad feeling,” Tiggy said. “Baaaaaad feeling.”

Ryan threw his. It went farther, of course, and he looked a little pleased at the fact, given that he would always be a little bit of a douchebag, gods love him. It impacted with the same curious effect, rippling outward.

Ruv went last, throwing his stone down the middle. His went the farthest. Ryan looked grumpy at that. But instead of rippling, his landed with a hard thunk, as if just under the sand was something solid.

I blinked. “Okay, what the hell?”

“Something smells weird,” Kevin said, nostrils flaring. “Almost like… rotted fish.”

Ryan drew his sword. “This can’t possibly be good.”

“Watch the outer stones,” Ruv said.

We did.

It only took a minute more.

The ripples died. Little granules of sand got caught in a small updraft, dancing along the surface.

And then—

“Nope,” Gary said. “Fuck no. Fuck this whole thing. Fuck you. Fuck them. Fuck this place. Gary out.”

But he didn’t even try to leave, transfixed by the same thing all the rest of us were. Because out of the sand where I’d thrown Ruv’s stone rose five claws attached to five fingers, which led to a hand whose palm was white as a fish’s belly but whose skin was mottled green around the back, like wet moss growing on trees. The hand, of course, led to a thick forearm that had to be as wide as I was. Whatever the hell was under the sand was big, bigger than it had any right to be. The arm bent over, veins jutting out as the sharp claws closed around the stone before sinking back underneath the surface, the sand moving like waves.

On the other side, the same thing happened with a slightly smaller arm. No one spoke until it too had disappeared in the sand.

“Huh,” I said. “All those in favor of turning around and running away, say aye.”

“Aye,” Gary said.

“Aye,” Tiggy said.

“Aye,” Kevin said.

“Guys, we can’t,” Ryan said, because he was righteous and brave and so, so stupid. “We have a job to do.”

“Okay, then,” Gary said. “You go out there first.”

“Well, let’s not be too hasty,” Ryan said quickly, taking a step back. “We should at least talk about it before anyone does anything.”

“Sand mermaids,” I said to Ruv, who was still looking out at the sands. “That’s what Vadoma called them, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“And obviously she left out the part where they were large scary monsters.”

“Have you seen real mermaids before?”

I nodded. “Once. It involved lesbian pirates who tied me to the front of their ship to use my magic to get to the mermaid treasure.”

“Oh, right,” Gary said. “I remember that. What was that song they sang again?”

“If you use your fingers to scissor,” Tiggy sang, “you best put your mouth up and kiss her.”

“Gods, I had that in my head for days,” I said. “And also, I was sufficiently scarred because mermaids are terrifying creatures.”

“The sand mermaids are even worse,” Ruv said. “Or so I’ve heard. Twice the size of traditional mermaids. Four rows of teeth—needle sharp. They have little pockets in the back of their throats like a water skin. It holds poison that paralyzes the prey. They like it when you’re alive when they start to eat you. Something about the blood tasting different than off a rotting carcass.”

“Well shit on my chest and call me kinky,” Gary said. “Let me guess. There’s no other way to yonder rockopolis aside from straight through this little sand ocean.”

“You’re into scat play?” Kevin said. “That is not something I would have expected.”

“What?” Gary said. “Gross. Of course not. Don’t be stupid. It’s a common expression.”

“No one says that,” I told him. “Absolutely no one.”

“And besides,” Gary said, ignoring me completely, “it’s not like you know everything about me.”