Master of Dragons (19 page)

Suddenly the surrounding dragons darted away like sparrows. Even Irial flew off, giving his brother a vicious Draconian smirk as he went.

Giving the mob a clear line of fire.

“Kel!” Nineva cried, staring at the oncoming dragon horde. They were less than two hundred yards away now and closing fast. She conjured a crossbow and the flaming magical quarrels to go with it. The bow would give her blasts greater range. “Any ideas?”

“Go down fighting,” Kel growled back. “I'm not going to cower to these bastards.” He lifted his voice. “We didn't steal the Egg, you fools! We're innocent! The real thieves—”

“Lies!” Irial howled. “Kill them! Burn them down!”

“Kill them!” A chant rose up from thousands of Draconian throats, making Nineva's ears ring and her chest vibrate like a drum.

She hunkered down against Kel's broad back, staring at the seething mass of scales and wings and claws. Fighting her fear, she aimed the crossbow at the nearest dragon and prepared to fire.

“Wait!” A blue figure dropped into view between them and the mass of furious dragons. Soren. “They did nothing! It was Piaras!”

Dragon voices rose in confusion and anger as the great beasts darted back and forth. Yet they hesitated, either because they believed Soren or they were afraid to catch him in their fire.

“Why do you lie for these thieves, Soren?” one of the mob demanded. “Get out of the way, or die with them!”

“Use your senses—they don't have the Egg!” Soren used his magic to hover in front of Nineva and Kel, shielding them with his own big body. “I personally saw Piaras take the Egg through a dimensional gate. I tracked him as far as I could, but something blocked my spell before he reached his destination. I do know I landed somewhere in the great mountains of the eastern continent, because it was full dark there. But when I flew around the area, I could find nothing. The rebel stronghold is too well shielded.”

“Don't be absurd,” a red dragon protested, sounding offended. “Piaras would never have committed such blasphemy!”

Kel suddenly spoke up. “Then where
is
Lord Piaras? I don't see him among you, though all the other Dragon Lords jostle to be the first to incinerate us. Why isn't your leader among them?”

Heads turned in confusion. “Piaras?” the red dragon called. “Lord Piaras?”

“He's right—everyone else joined the chase,” Soren said. “Down to the youngest fledgling. So why would Piaras be missing—unless he was the one who took the Egg?”

Voices rose in confused murmurs.

At last,
a mocking voice called,
the dawning light of reason.

Nineva jerked her head up just as a flaming figure materialized in midair before the mob. Some of them almost dropped out of the sky in surprise as a shocked mass gasp rose.

“Cachamwri,” Kel breathed.

Yes, Cachamwri.
Fire boiled around the dragon's flaming body.
And I have had more than enough of this!
The Dragon God's mental voice was icy as he thundered at the mob.
Why do you attack my champion and the princess of the Sidhe while a thief makes off with my Egg?

“He really is your champion?” Irial's voice rose over the abrupt silence, sounding a little sick.

Have I not said so?
The Dragon God wheeled in a furious circle, sparks shooting from his flaming wings.
Pah! I send him to you to give you fair warning, but you are too blinded by old hatreds to listen. Fools! You do not deserve my Egg!

“What would you have us do?” the red dragon asked in a small, humble voice.

You will assist the humans and Sidhe in recovering my Egg, the sword, and the book,
Cachamwri growled.
I care not if it gags you to touch them. They will ride you into battle like the stupid beasts you are, and you will help them turn back the Dark Ones. Fail in this, and you will deserve what you'll reap from your conquerors!

None of the dragons dared so much as murmur a protest. “It will be as you wish, Cachamwri,” the red Dragon Lord said. “We beg your forgiveness for allowing the theft.”

As well you should. Now get out of my sight. I wish to talk to my champion and his allies.

Nineva watched, feeling dazed, as the entire mob turned and flew away. None of them made a single sound beyond the beat of their wings.

“My thanks, Burning One,” Kel said quietly when they were alone. To Soren, he added, “And to you, too, Lord Soren. They'd have killed us if you hadn't interfered.”

Cachamwri sighed in disgust.
Aye. Fools.

“But I don't understand,” Soren said quietly. “Why did you allow Piaras to take the Egg to begin with? You could have prevented it.”

The god shot him a look.
The theft had to take place, or none of the rest would follow.

Soren shook his head. “I don't understand.”

Of course not. You are not a god.
Cachamwri turned his attention to Kel.
Gather Arthur and his allies, and tell them
to prepare for war. Our people will meet them outside the city.
His expression went grim.
It will not be long now.

With that, he vanished, leaving behind only a fading sparkle.

“But where the hell is the rebel stronghold?” Kel growled, frustrated. “Until we know that, we're screwed.”

Soren shook his head as he flew in a wide loop around them. “I saw a vast mountain range under the moonlight, and the sea roaring beside it. But I sensed nothing.”

“If their wards were strong enough, that could be why,” Nineva pointed out. “Could you take us back there?”

“Oh, of course. But searching those mountains would take days, even assuming they were Piaras's final destination. He could easily have landed there to confuse me, then gated on.”

Semira?
Nineva thought as the two dragons circled each other.
If I got close enough, would you be able to guide me to you
?

There was a long pause before the goddess finally spoke.
I believe so. But you should work another strengthening spell before you make the attempt. I suspect we both will need it.

All right.
“Semira may be able to guide us the rest of the way in, but Kel and I need to work another spell first. She said she'll need the power.”

“At least it's a chance,” Soren said. “In the meantime, we'll meet with Arthur and Llyr and start working out the details of the attack.”

Kel nodded. “And pray the rebels are somewhere in those mountains you saw.”

 

“Nineva's at work
on the final spell to power Semira now,” Kel told Arthur, Llyr, his queen, and both councils of the Magekind. They'd met in the council chambers as soon as the sun set and the vampires woke. “It's a complicated piece of magic.”

“The question is, will it be enough? And will you be finished before Arralt and his rebels complete whatever they're going to do to the wards?” Morgana asked grimly.

He shrugged. “I don't know. It's going to be a race.”

“One way or another, we'd better have everybody in place and ready to go as quickly as we can,” Arthur said. “Kel, you really think your people are going to cooperate with us?”

“After the dressing down Cachamwri gave them?” Kel snorted. “They wouldn't dare do anything else. He can be pretty damned terrifying when it suits him.”

“Which would be gratifying, if only we had a little more time to practice this,” Llyr said. “I am not pleased with the idea of taking all these different forces into battle without having drilled them together first.”

“Unfortunately, we're going to have to take what we can get,” Arthur told him. “And pray it's enough.”

Diana spoke up from her seat as she cuddled her sleeping infant against her breast. “I've been talking to the Direkind Council of Clans. We'll be able to count on at least a couple hundred Dire Wolves. They've already started gathering—we just need to gate them in.”

“Two hundred magically resistant seven-foot-tall were-wolves.” Morgana sat back in her seat and smiled like a cat. “That should scare a few rebels.”

“It'll scare them a lot more if they don't have Dark Ones for backup,” Arthur growled. “Otherwise, we're going to need every dragon, vampire, witch, wolf, and fairy we can muster.”

Kel rose from his seat. “And on that note, I'd better get back to Nineva. If she's on schedule—and I'm sure she is—she should be ready for me by now.” He left them to their strategy session and strode out into the corridor, trying to ignore the way his stomach was coiling itself into a sick knot. This time, the spell had better work.

 

They stood in
vast rows. Thousands of them, grim-faced and ready in their black armor, swords and axes hanging from sheaths.

Ready to fight and die to make Arralt ruler of the Two Kingdoms.

He paced along their ranks, stopping here and there to bark critiques of the state of one's sword or the tightness of another's cuirass. To his satisfaction, Arralt saw no doubt in the eyes of any of them, only a fanatical devotion.

For centuries, he'd been recruiting his army, building it man by man from those who'd suffered at his father's hand. Ansgar being Ansgar, there'd been no lack of recruits.

He only wished it were his father he'd meet in battle tonight, his father who'd fall to his sword. Llyr Galatyn would be a poor substitute.

Still, watching the life bleed from the king's eyes would be sweetly satisfying. Galatyn had, after all, stolen the revenge that should have been his.

How his mother had railed at him when Llyr slew Ansgar. “You've failed me! I carried you in my womb for nine months, you rapist's spawn, built your power all these centuries, taught you forbidden magicks—and you waited too long! That monster was to die at your hands! Yours!”

“So I'll slay Galatyn. I'll still take the throne.”

Her still-lovely face had twisted in contempt. “Llyr is Cachamwri's Champion now, you fool. He can draw on the power of the Dragon God himself. You have no hope against him. He'll take you apart, even with your army.”

Galling as it was to acknowledge it, Arralt had known the bitch was right. He would have to build his power another way.

He'd found the means in his mother's ancient, forbidden books—books written by the Dark Ones' collaborators centuries before the aliens were driven from Sidhe Earth.

Arralt quickly realized the only means he had of gaining the power to defeat Galatyn was an alliance with his people's former conquerors. It had been an idea breathtaking in its risk. The Dark Ones could easily destroy him. Indeed, given their vicious nature, the odds favored his death.

Yet not to take the chance meant the death of his dream. Worse the death of his revenge.

He'd chosen to take the chance, even though it had meant he had to murder his own mother. Just any slaying wouldn't have powered a gate that far. It had to be the utter betrayal of the very person who gave him life.

Of course, killing the little bitch had been no real hardship. In her determination to turn him into the weapon of her revenge, she'd tormented him from the day he was born.

Now Arralt would finally discover whether his gamble would pay off—or destroy him completely. Would his army defeat Galatyn's? Even if he won, would the Dark Ones keep their agreement and let him claim his throne? It could go either way.

Looking out across the ranks of his men now, he knew that many of them would be dead before dawn. He, too, might well be dead, or a shamed captive in chains.

Or king.

Arralt felt his lips curve up in a grin of pure exhilaration.

 

Evegnii watched General
Arralt stand looking over the army with that gut-chilling smile. And wondered, not for the first time, what the hell he himself was doing here.

Joining the rebellion had seemed like such a heroic adventure five years ago—a noble effort to overthrow Ansgar the Tyrant, who'd ordered the torture of Evegnii's father for acts of sedition.

Sedition. His father had gotten drunk and bitched about Ansgar's taxes in a tavern, not knowing one of the king's toadies lurked in the taproom crowd. He'd died in the torturer's hands.

At first, joining the Army of Semira had promised everything Evegnii hoped. He'd enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow rebels and the challenge of mastering the art of combat. Surrounded by so many veteran warriors, he'd learned much.

Then Llyr had killed Ansgar. Soon afterward, the general's mother had died under mysterious circumstances, and Arralt himself had vanished for months. When he returned, it was amid rumors that he'd found a chilling ally: the Dark Ones.

Evegnii began to realize he'd made a horrible mistake. Llyr was said to be a good king—and everyone knew what the Dark Ones were. He was tempted to desert on the spot.

He thought better of it after seeing the public execution of one captured deserter. Evegnii had no desire to be gutted and used to power some act of death magic.

Death magic, for Semira's sweet sake.

Soon, if the rumors were correct, they'd all ride into battle by the Dark Ones' side. Evegnii's sergeant had already warned the entire unit that he'd kill any man who fought with anything less than courage.

Cursed. No matter what he did, Evegnii knew he was cursed. His one hope was to fight like a berserker and pray the general hadn't lied when he'd sworn to reward his men for winning his throne for him.

If only Evegnii didn't have the sinking feeling that his own children would curse his name for this night, no matter what riches Arralt might heap on his head.

Not that it mattered. He had only one choice.

Fight or die.