He lifted his arm and looked toward the sky. Wonder filled his eyes, then joy, then pure elation as he leaped from the stone and headed into the forest.

THIRTY-SIX.

"Mother! I saw him! I saw the Great Wyrm!"

Adrian's elation made him breathless as he raced into the clearing. He was so excited he could scarcely speak. The Great Wyrm had not been sighted in centuries! Rumors hinted of his death, but nothing had ever been proven.

Damien and Lysira were sitting on the steps to the cottage and leaped to their feet at his words.

"You saw T'bor?" asked Damien, incredulously.

"Was Angeline...was my mother with him?" Lysira's voice trilled with hope.

"Nay, Mother. 'Twas only Grandfather I saw." Adrian felt an almost physical pain at the look of disappointment on Lysira's face. "But she must have been nearby. You know he is never far from her."

"I must go to them." Lysira's body began to change. Her pale skin ripened into gold, her eyes glowed, then changed from azure to burnished gold. Her body trembled as it began to grow.

"'Sira!" Damien cried loudly. "You cannot. You have been too ill. To change now could kill you." He pulled her changing body into his strong arms, trying to stop her, trying to keep her safe.

"Damien, please. I must. It has been too long," she said brokenly. "I must know."

"Nay," he said as he held her tighter. "You will obey me in this."

Lysira acquiesced as she returned to human form and laid her head on his broad chest. "I miss them so," she sobbed. "I just wish to see them one more time, Damien. Can you not

understand?"

"I do understand, my love," he replied, rubbing her back gently. "You must rest, 'Sira. You are still too weak."

"Nay." As she pulled away from Damien, Adrian could see her gathering strength. "I would hear our son tell of this thing."

"Speak, son," Damien ordered as he and Lysira sat back upon the stone steps. "Tell us what you saw."

Tempest had almost reached the creek when she realized she had forgotten to bring soap. She was just about to round the corner of the cottage when she heard Adrian's excited voice.

She bent to retrieve her dropped stocking, and she heard the phrase "great wyrm." She froze and listened.

It could not be. Adrian...Lysira...Dragons? Nay, 'twas impossible. She would have known. Tempest's head reeled as she listened to them. She leaned against the cottage wall, her face paling as Adrian told his parents what he had seen. The clothes she had readied for washing lay forgotten at her feet where they had fallen from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

She knew she should not stand in the shadows listening like some thief in the night, but she could not move.

"I wished for an answer, Mother," she heard Adrian say, "and he was there. He flew high overhead, circled thrice then was gone. 'Twas him. I know 'twas Grandfather."

"There is only one Great Wyrm," agreed Lysira. "The others were defeated in the dragon wars. The bards used to sing of it, of how the Great Wyrm is the most powerful, the most magical and the oldest of all dragons. But I have not heard the dragon's song for many years. I believe the humans have forgotten it."

"I had thought you two were the last of the golds," Damien mused. "But if you saw a Great Wyrm and it was a gold, then it could only have been T'bor. I wonder why he was there. Do you suppose he was sending us a message?"

"Aye," answered Adrian. "He was a messenger from the G.o.ds, commanding me to tell Tempest what I am, before we are wed."

"She is too young, Adrian. She will be frightened."

"She is strong, Mother, and she loves me. I remember well the night of her birth; I was there, remember? We are soul joined.

She will wed me."

Tempest had heard enough. 'Twas time to face the dragons.

She straightened her back and marched around the corner of the cottage. They did not notice her at first, so intent were they upon their conversation.

"Adrian," she interrupted loudly, then cleared her throat and continued in a softer voice. "I would speak with you."

He advanced toward her. "Aye, my love, 'tis time we spoke." He reached for her hand, but she held it stiffly at her side and moved away from him. He glanced back at Lysira as they walked into the woods.

"Tempest? Are you feeling ill?"

But she could not yet speak. She could not answer. Was she ill? Aye, she felt ill, but 'twas something else...

She must think. Her sweet, handsome Adrian-a dragon?

'Twas beyond belief. Could she spend the rest of her mortal life with him? Dragons lived for centuries. She was human; their time together would be so brief. And what if she were to bear children. What would they be? Human? Dragon? Images swam through her mind as they walked deeper into the woods, images of herself seated in a chair, tiny dragon children at her feet, playing happily with tiny human children while a golden dragon circled high overhead. She felt her heart overflowing with love for this, her family. But they were dragon children, different, alien. How could dragons and humans mate, beget offspring, live together in harmony?

Then another image flashed before her. She was seated in the same chair, but this time she was shriveled and gray. There were no children, there were no flashes of a golden dragon as he soared majestically overhead. She was alone, her heart dead in her chest. She was unloved, desolate.

Tempest knew she was bound to Adrian forever. She loved him.

She shook her head to clear it. 'Twas an easy decision to make. She loved him, and they could face anything so long as

they had each other. She would not end up an old woman, alone and unloved, never bearing the children of the man she loved.

Instead, she would love this dragon man, would bear his children, would spend her short time on Earth loving and being loved. She knew with certainty that even a short time with Adrian would be infinitely better than an eternity without him.

They reached the clearing where she had watched Adrian sun himself on the huge granite boulder.

"Sit," she commanded, pointing to a smaller rock.

Adrian sat.

"I would hear your secret now." She stood before him, hands clasped demurely in front of her. She locked eyes with him and waited for him to speak. She held her breath, hoping, praying, he would tell her the truth.

"I..." he cleared his throat nervously. "I am a dragon." He stopped and waited for her to speak. Now it was his turn to hope, to pray.

"And?"

"And? And what? I have just told you that I am not a man.

I am a dragon."

"Show me."

"Show you? Show you what?" Adrian was confounded.

She was not reacting as he had expected. She showed no surprise. She asked him no questions. Did she already know the truth? Nay, she could not know.

"If you are truly a dragon, prove it. Turn into a dragon here and now."

"I cannot." He bowed his head in dejection, clasped hands between his knees.

"Cannot or will not?" She was relentless.

"Cannot," he whispered. "I have tried." He raised br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes to hers. "I cannot become what I so need to be. I cannot become a dragon."

"Why? Have you forgotten how? Are you cursed, mayhap?

Are you ensorcelled?" She worried and chewed on the idea like a mastiff with a haunch of fresh venison.

"Cursed?" He thought back but could remember nothing which would make him think he was cursed. "Nay, I think not.

I cannot recall anything between the time I battled the black and the time you found me under your tree."

"Black? Black what?" she asked in confusion. Then the truth of his statement dawned on her. "You fought a black dragon? Is that why you were hurt? G.o.ddess, Adrian. You could have died fighting a black dragon!"

"You forget I was a golden dragon at the time, little witch,"

he pointed out with a grin. "I have fought the black many times in the past, and one day I shall defeat him."

"I will not have my husband fighting dragons," she said firmly. "He will stay at home and help me raise our children."

"Your husband? Did you say your husband?" Adrian was stunned. "Does this mean you will marry me even though I could turn into a dragon and fly away? Well, that is if I ever remember how to turn back into a dragon.

"I told you we would marry when you told me your secret."

Tempest grinned at the look of shock on his face. "I know it now, so we can wed any time."

"Now!" Adrian grabbed her slight figure in his arms and twirled her around. Her green woolen skirts flew around them, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Their happy laughter rang through the ancient forest.

"I will tell Mother," he shouted in ecstasy. "She is a dragon queen and a priestess of the Old Path. She can marry us."

"Lysira is a...dragon?" Vague memories of golden scales, of shining golden dragon's eyes. But where? When? When she had been poisoned? Aye. Adrian was a dragon. His parents would be dragons, also. "Damien...is he also a dragon?" She was almost afraid to ask. Damien was ferocious enough to be a dragon.

"Nay," he answered, grabbing her hand. "My father is as human as you, although some might say he is mostly demon."

He grinned.

"We must hurry home and speak with them, my love," Tempest whispered in his ear, her husky voice doing all sorts of wonderful things to his body. "For I do not believe I can wait much longer."

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Finally," she exclaimed. "Now Tempest shall come into her full powers. This has been a wonderful game, dearest. I am so glad you began it all." She turned to him, but he was not looking into the crystal ball.

He stared at nothing, the look in his eyes showing a mixture of pain and awe. "It felt good," he whispered. "It felt right somehow, that form. I remember a time, long ago...a time of freedom, of soaring across the heavens...of great battles. 'Tis as though I were truly a golden dragon. Mayhap..."

A look of concern crossed her face. She drew his hand to her lips and kissed it gently. "What do you remember, my darling?" she asked, looking deep into his golden eyes. "Do you remember Before?"

"I remember," he replied as a tear trickled down his rugged cheek. "G.o.ds, how I remember Before."

THIRTY-SEVEN.

Beltane. Tomorrow would be the last of three fertility rituals. Imbolc, celebrated as winter grew milder; Ostera, celebrated in the early spring; and Beltane, celebrated as spring grew and bloomed in wild abandon. Tomorrow they would celebrate the union of the G.o.d and G.o.ddess. Tomorrow he would wed Tempest.

Lysira had made them wait to wed, made them wait until Beltane. But she had been kind; she had kept them busy.

Adrian and Tristan trudged deep into the woods to find the perfect tree for a maypole. They found a tall, straight fir tree, felled it easily, and began stripping the limbs-all but the topmost branches. Those they left, like a crown of glory to hold the circlet of flowers and red and white ribbons which would be tied securely to the pole. Tonight they would erect the maypole and tomorrow...

"Adrian, did you hear what I just told you?"

"Forgive me, Tristan. I was thinking about tomorrow."

"Aye. And I was speaking of tomorrow." Tristan sighed.

"Did you hear a word of what I just said?"

"Nay." Adrian had the good grace to look sheepish.

"I have asked Marisa to be my wife."