Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series) (37 page)

As if on cue, battle sounds erupted from somewhere above them and dust fell from the ceiling, breaking the magic. “Come, let’s get out of here. We must go find my son,” he commanded after pulling away.

“Zoricah is on it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your plan has worked,” she explained. “Z found out some horrible things Vrajitor has been doing to test the disease on dracos and was furious. When she saw that we had to come here to rescue you, she volunteered to go get Tardieh out. She’s itching to get some revenge of her own.”

At the time he made the offer to Zoricah he knew it was a gamble, he just didn’t know how much the odds were in his favor. He just hoped the confidence he held in his son’s integrity would not be for naught, and Tardieh would honor his father’s promise.

“My sweet, you are truly remarkable,” he murmured, and then he took her small hand in his and rushed out of the room toward an exit.

As they strode down the long corridor and turned left, an enormous bang echoed through the stone walls followed by war cries. Shards of plaster broke loose and crashed on the floor. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, coming from the entrance to the Dark Wing.

“Watch out,” he bellowed pulling Talia to him, just before a massive slab of rock plummeted from the roof and crashed a few feet from them.

She screeched in surprise but was quick in following his lead. “Arthur must have breached Kalaur’s frontline defense.”

Yes, Petran was certain the battle was drawing closer but from the noises, it was hard to say who was winning, his guards or Kalaur’s. “Come,” he ordered, turning on his heels and pulling her toward the opposite direction.

“Where are you going? The only exit is that way,” she protested.

“No, it is not,” he replied. “There’s a secret passage from my room as well, just like there is one in Hillia’s. It’s our best chance to get out without having to fight our way out.” He was not one to shy away from a good fight, but his sword arm was still recovering and even though Talia had proved to be a fearless dame, she was still a lady,
his lady
, and he’d be dammed if anything happened to her. So away from the battle he would go, as fast as her sweet feet would allow.

They broke into a run and reached the King’s apartments just as the stomping of military boots and clashing of swords reached his ears. The fighting had stretched to the underground level. Bursting across the waiting room, he kept moving through the other entrance quarters, cursing his ancestors all the way. His castle had been originally built by his great grandfather, who had two favorite pastimes—going to war and parting with his lovers. Thus a colossal Royal apartment had been built for him, with several front chambers, ballrooms, and indoor gardens. Petran had enjoyed living in such lavish accommodations but right now, he was cursing the day his great grandfather had chosen to hide the only secret passage in the back wall of the last room.

After a few seconds, which seemed like hours, they finally got to the destined chamber. This time, Petran made sure the door shut firmly behind him. Not that a mere wooden slab would pose any true resistance to the draconian army but having spent years in military academy, he knew that in battle a few seconds head start could be the difference between life or death.

“Quick,” he urged Talia. “Help me push the bed against the door.”

Together they dragged the solid four-poster against the entrance, and then the dresser and the wardrobe.

“That’s definitely going to slow them down…a bit anyway,” Talia remarked with a small smile, pointing out the irony of their conundrum. “But do not worry. If Kalaur’s guards break in, I’ll protect you,” she added with fierce determination. Her cheeks flushed pink with her exertion, rebellious strands of red wavy hair framed her face, and her midnight blue dress had tears in places. And she had never looked sexier.

“By Apa Dobrý, I love you.”

A wide smile lifted her rosy cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “And I love you,” she replied against his lips.

Petran knew they had to keep going, but the temptation was too much to resist. He lowered his mouth to capture hers, devouring her warmth, her passion with his lips.

“Oh, how romantic.”

Chapter Forty

Talia stiffened in Petran’s arms at the sound of the sarcastic voice echoing from the secret passage. Ivan Milek stood alongside Kalaur and Yerik just inside the room.

Mighty Soartas.

“I told you it had been them,” the bastard added. “There’s only one way to char a vampire body the way Hillia’s was.”

“Well done, Ivan,” Talia mocked. “I would throw you a bone but unfortunately, I have none at hand.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Petran slowly move into a fighting stance, so she braced herself for combat. Unfortunately, the odds were not in their favor as they were three against two, their adversaries had swords, and she was very inexperienced. If only Petran were able to teleport them out, but she knew these walls were reinforced by cement.

“It’s over, bloodsucker, I’ve got you cornered. It’s time to face reality,” Kalaur drawled, circling to the right.

“Are you deaf, Kalaur?” Petran replied, stalking his every move. “Can you not hear the sound of my army taking over the castle?”

Yerik and Ivan mirrored their leader, forging a ring of threat around Talia and Petran. But by doing so, they inadvertently created a gap between them, a gap with the secret passage in the middle.
Yes
.

“I can hear the sounds of your handful of fighters losing their heads,” Kalaur replied with a smirk. “Just like you will, in a few moments.”

With that last warning, the three advanced on Petran as a unit.

“Talia, be careful,” he shouted at her, already
clouding out
toward the opposite end of the room, where an ancient sword hung on the wall. After a few seconds, he took form in front of Kalaur, holding it in his hand.

Following Petran’s lead, Talia decided that attacking was her best defense and advanced on Yerik. If nothing else, she would do what she could to level the playing field for Petran. The beauty of going into a fight with male warriors was that they never really expected a female to have the guts to join the party. Yerik was no exception. The vampire councilor most likely had not thought much about her because it took just one slap on his face for him to lose his grip on his blade and send it clattering on the floor a few feet away. Talia lunged for it but before she could reach the weapon, Yerik grabbed her skirts, pulling her backwards. She retaliated with a kick to his groin, making him topple over in pain. So she took advantage of his momentary invalid state, grabbed up the sword, and went after Ivan.

Her former rebel leader seemed too focused on helping Kalaur attack Petran to see her coming. Talia lifted the large sword up and let it descend on Ivan, slashing him across the back. The traitor screamed in pain as dark blood oozed from the open wound.

“You bloody whore,” he yelped, turning his attention completely toward her.

“Your fight is with me, you bastard,” she growled in a very unlady-like tone. “I will make you pay for all the people you killed, all the friends you betrayed.”

He let out an ugly snort. “Look at you! You are just a spoilt little girl, with too much time on your hands. I’ll be done with you before you can shout to your bloodsucking lover for help.” With that, he charged forward, sword in hand.

Talia met his blow with one of her own. He was definitely taller and stronger than she was, but she was swifter on her feet. Paying attention to her sword lessons at school had paid off after all. Using her light striding to her advantage, she slid from one side to the other escaping his blows and succeeding with a few of her own, gashing open his arm and thigh. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yerik, who had managed to find another sword, join Kalaur against Petran. A faint change in light called her attention back to her own fight. Ivan’s shiny blade flickered in the air just before it descended onto her right shoulder. Talia jumped out of the way, successfully deflecting the blow but in her haste, she lost her balance and stepped on her own skirt.

**********

Petran’s chest tightened with fear when he saw Ivan towering over Talia, who up until a moment ago had managed to hold her own impressively well. But something had caught her dress, driving her to fall backwards and lose her balance.

Damn the Soartas!

He swayed his sword deflecting Kalaur’s blow, then swiveled to the right, dodging Yerik’s advances. Without missing a beat, Petran then soared into the air and landed on top of Ivan successfully toppling them both against the sidewall, far away from Talia.

The only way Kalaur would win this battle over Petran was to attack him as one front, together with the other two. Yerik had his vampire speed to his advantage, and the dracos their sheer force. Petran knew it and knew they knew it. But Petran was more experienced, smarter and much faster than any one of them.

As Petran spun off the floor leaving Ivan behind, he saw a blur of movement to his left—Yerik. The bloody councilor tried to take hold of him while his draco leader charged from the front, but Petran was able to react swifter than the other vampire and stepped out of the way right in time, making Kalaur spear Yerik through the stomach instead. The traitor went down, holding his wound. A small smile lifted Petran’s lips. The blow would not kill Yerik but it would definitely take him out of action for a few precious minutes, leaving only the two dracos to battle against Petran.

There was no time to waste with celebrations, though. Petran lunged at Kalaur, and with expertly balanced moves, he found a gap on the draco’s bout and speared him through the knee. Kalaur fell down, feeling the hit.

Before Petran could deploy his final blow, ending Kalaur’s life once and for all, the air around them changed, going up a few degrees. He turned around to find Ivan pulling his dragon fire, ready to fry Petran’s cells to Hiad.
Damn the Soartas!
Petran jumped out of the way, but the bastard followed him. The blaze was scorching and even though it hadn’t touched him yet, he could feel his skin blister.

“Petran!” he heard Talia shout, and then she was right there, in front of him.

Had she gone insane?
Even though dragons could not be killed by the very element that created them, their clothes were a completely different matter. Talia would become a moving torch in no time.

But she didn’t.

In an amazing display of courage and expertise, she positioned herself between Ivan and him, and when her former rebel leader blew another ball of fire, she opened her mouth and captured it within her.
Amazing.
From the startled look in the draco’s eyes, he wasn’t expecting her to block his blast with such ease either.

Petran took advantage of that sliver of second to pull the fight back to him. He loved that his woman was as fearsome as any warrior was, but his protective side absolutely hated that he hadn’t finished these bastards off yet.

It was time to end this, once, and for all.

Using his vampire speed to disorient his opponents, he circumvented Talia and struck Ivan in the jugular, ripping through flesh, vocal chords, and muscle. Dark brown blood oozed out from the open wound. As the turncoat dropped to the ground feebly trying to hold his throat shut, Petran jumped sideways knowing Kalaur would take the opportunity to strike at him from behind. He wasn’t wrong. The sword intended for his neck moved air just above his head.

Petran swiveled around, ducked low and struck with everything he had.

His sword passed through Kalaur’s open stance and penetrated flesh on the left side of his chest, through bones and into the heart—a dragon’s most vulnerable spot.

Kalaur’s confident glare melted into utter disbelief as one by one his limbs failed to obey his commands. When Petran retrieved his sword and a gush of dark blood spurted forth, there was just the empty look of death stamped on the draco’s face.

“You are done for, Kalaur,” he growled, towering over the fallen draco. “You have only a few seconds to live, and after that, you will be on your way to the gates of Hiad.”

“And so will your lover,” Yerik’s shout threw a chill through Petran’s spine.

He turned on his heels ready to retaliate but froze mid-stride when he saw Yerik had a firm hold on Talia. He had his arm around her neck and was using her as a shield. Filthy bastard.

“Stop right there or I’ll spear her heart out,” Yerik warned.

“Let her go, Yerik,” Petran growled. “Your dragon lord is dead, there’s no use for this anymore.”

Behind the barricaded door, he heard shouts followed by a blast. Bloody Soartas, the dragons had caught up to them.

“Ha! Do you hear that, my king?” Yerik replied. “It’s not over yet. When your little army arrived, we called for reinforcements. The Desert Daemons are itching for an excuse to take you down. Surrender and I’ll spare her.”

“No,” Talia shouted, struggling against Yerik’s grip. “Petran, go, save yourself,
cloud
out of here!”

Yerik snarled in response. “Shut up, whore!” Then, he pulled her head back exposing her alabaster neck further to his fangs, and her chest to his short sword.

Petran swallowed dry.
Please Apa Dobrý, don’t let him take her life
.

“If you hurt her, Yerik, there won’t be enough daemons in the world who will be able stop me from ripping your head off with my teeth,” Petran growled. “Let her go and I’ll be merciful enough to kill you quickly.”

As if on cue, three daemons emerged from the secret passage, crushing any hope Petran had for an escape.

“What took you so bloody long?” Yerik shouted at the newcomers. “Take him down,” he ordered pointing at Petran.

Grasps, clutches, punches, and kicks ensued. Petran did not put up any resistance. He knew that for as long as Yerik had Talia, there was little he could do.
Please Apa Dobrý, make them take my life, not hers.
Someone shoved his face hard against the floor and his hands were tied up with silver chains. From the front door, more bellows, and blasts of dragon fire could be heard.

“Yerik—” Ivan’s faint plea sounded odd against the angry shouting. “Please, Yerik, I need help. The cut…too deep. Losing too much blood.”

“Save your breath then,” his former councilor countered. To the daemons he said, “Take them to the dungeons and call the Sultan.” He dropped his hold on Talia shoving her into the arms of one of the daemons. “Tell him I have a present for him.” Yerik then strode over to Petran and without ceremony, drove his sword right through Petran’s back.

“No!” Talia cried out.

Fighting the white hot pain shooting through his entire body, Petran managed to gaze up at Talia knowing very well it would be one of the last times he’d ever see her beautiful face. Tears flooded her cheeks, her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs.

Don’t cry, my sweet, don’t cry.