Waking the Dragon (25 page)

Curling my knees to my chest, I feared how poor Julian fared after I left. Alone in the house with his mother and the servants unconscious, having watched his aunt be abducted. I felt a pang for Jessen, knowing the fear she’d feel when she awoke to find me taken. I thought of Kol, wondering where he was right now. But of course, I knew the answer to that. He’d be looking for me. My heart constricted. I had to find a way out of this.

“Think, Moira. Think.”

I twisted the medal of Portia in my fingers, praying for an answer, some help, anything. Tucking the chain back into my sweater, I stared at the table.

If I stretched out on the ground, I might be able to reach the table leg and drag it to me. I was surely the tallest woman they’d held in here. Lying flat on my stomach, I scrambled toward the table, my middle finger just barely reaching the closest leg. I sat up and pulled the chain taut, stretching out again. Two fingertips touched the table leg. I curled them, moving the leg an inch to the right. Closer. “Come on.”

Wiggling my fingers, I scooted an inch the other direction, now able to curl three fingertips around the corner. “Yes.”

An inch closer and I could wrap all four. I pulled it toward me, tightening my whole fist and dragging the table over. Sitting up, I jerked open the drawer.

“Nothing. Come on, damn it.”

I pulled the whole drawer out. A metallic edge gleamed. Wedged in between the side was…a fork? Better than nothing. After finally managing to pull it from the crevice, I hurried and slid it into my back pocket. Footsteps approached.

I jerked to my feet and cracked a table leg off with my foot, giving me a sharp-ended stake. Scrambling until my back hit the corner, I waited.

A key jangled in the lock. The door swung open. Two Morgons stepped into the chamber, both with bright yellow wings, tan skin, and long, blond hair. I’d never seen Morgons of this clan before, but I knew from my studies they were of the Sunsting clan from northern regions. Barron stepped in behind them. All three were dressed in black tunics, hitting just above the knee, and leather, sleeveless tops. All they needed were swords and chest plates to match the Morgon warriors from history books.

“Where’s the battle, boys?”

Barron smirked, his facial tic winking one side of his face. “Apparently, right here.” He laughed. The other two chuckled, finding my attempt at self-defense humorous. They wouldn’t be laughing long.

“Really, Moira. How can you possibly think to escape with a splintered piece of wood and chained to the wall.”

“If you think I’m going down without a fight, you’re out of your fucking mind. If I maim just one of you cult-following, murderous assholes, I’ll die a happy woman.”

“Cult?” Barron’s black eyes narrowed as he slithered farther into the room, flanked by his Sunsting henchmen.

“The Larkosians,” I hissed. “Isn’t that what you call yourselves? With your blood-drinking rituals and sadistic mutilation of innocent girls.” I choked back a sob, my emotions welling to the surface in a torrent.

He glanced at the others, grinning. “If you think we are that pathetic, fanatical sect Fallon Greyclaw tried to resurrect, I’m afraid your deductions have been wrong. But not entirely.”

What the hell did that mean?

Lucius and Kol were right. The murders were an act of war, a way to break the peace between Morgons and humans. So what about the blood-drinking?

“Get her, Gor,” commanded Barron.

He lunged, grabbing my wrist without the make-shift weapon. I stabbed in and out with a quick thrust, hitting just below the shoulder. He cried out, backhanding me against the wall, the wooden spike flying from my grasp. The other one came for me. I slipped the fork from my back pocket and swung high, scoring his cheek.

“Bitch!”

Gor wrapped me from behind, grabbing my arm with the fork and banging my wrist against the wall until I dropped it. The one I’d gotten across the face gripped my throat and leered down at me, his eyes pale yellow like his wings, the gash on his cheek bleeding.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he grated out.

“It’s an improvement.” I smiled, masking the fear racing through my veins. “Trust me.”

He hauled his hand back.

“Stop!”

He did.

“We’ll not have her looking any more battered before the master receives her. Bring her.”

Gor leaned down, pulling a key from somewhere and unlocking the cuff. I gave him a swift kick to the jaw before he could duck away.

He definitely wanted to kill me. Malice gleamed in his eyes.

“No, Gor,” said Barron coolly.

Gor rubbed his jaw and squeezed my arm much tighter than necessary. They dragged me through an earthen tunnel, dark and narrower than I expected. Sconces lit the corridor every three or four yards.

I knew where they were taking me. To the evil one. That thing I sensed hiding in the shadows the night I offered myself up as bait. The thing that claimed me in my nightmare. Nausea boiled in my gut, overwhelming terror threatening to make me vomit.

We passed another cell like mine. Empty. We passed a second where I caught a glimpse of an unconscious human woman in jeans and a T-shirt strapped to a table, her arms straight out, open veins draining into bowls beneath her elbows.

“Wha—?” I dug my heels into the dirt, only managing to slow myself, not stop. “What are they doing to her? Barron!”

“No worries, lovely Moira. That will not be your fate.”

More women. They were abducting them from other provinces. Gladium wasn’t the only target.
My God.
My mind reeled at how many other young women had been taken for this sadistic, twisted band of murderers.

“Where are we?” I asked after our third fork in the tunnels.

“You can call it home, dear girl. But we call it Palace Prime.”

After several turns, Barron leading the way, they pulled me out into a large open cavern. Stalagmites rose up from the floor, stabbing upward, mirroring the stalactites hanging down, like stone swords armed against each other. A cleared ring in the center bore a painted symbol I didn’t recognize—a giant Morgon, wings outspread, crown on his head, holding a scepter in one hand, a sword in the other. Torches encircled the symbol, casting everything else in deep shadow.

The Sunsting guards dragged me to the center and stopped, forcing me to my knees. Barron stepped a few feet forward, blocking my view. The familiar sensation of malevolence filled the air, the one I’d felt that night in the tunnel of the Vaengar Stadium’s basement. There were others hovering in the shadows of the cavern around us, keeping still and quiet. But it was the presence of someone, something more menacing than all of them put together, that had me trembling. The one who remained out of sight.

“We have brought her, my lord.” Barron bowed, sweeping backward and to the side. Barron, subservient?

Whoever he spoke to was shrouded in shadow, sitting on a massive throne of stone. Fire-gold eyes pierced me through the gloom. The same eyes from my dream, my nightmare. He stood and stepped forward.

From sheer dread, I averted my gaze to the floor, my chest heaving quick breaths, my pulse pounding in my head. A cold sweat broke out on my skin.

“Look at me, human.” His voice, a deep-barreled frightening sound, made me want to obey. Instinct prompted me not to. I shook my head.

Gor gripped a fistful of my hair and yanked my neck back, forcing my face upward.

A monster stood before me.

I sucked in a breath. And couldn’t exhale.

Huge. A beast, bigger than Kol or any Morgon I’d ever seen, towered over me. Bare-chested, wearing a leather kilt and a gold torque around his massive neck, his black hair hung long, his massive, black wings jutted over his shoulders. Black wings. Like the Nightwing clan. Impossible. His appearance didn’t frighten me nearly as much as his face. His brow was too large, his jaw too wide, his chin and nose jutted too far, like the muzzle of a…of a dragon. He was more monster than man.

At the moment, his piercing gaze had left me to pin Gor, who still had his fist in my hair. With a swift movement, the monster grabbed Gor’s arm and snapped the bone. Gor yelled, letting go of me. The creature took his head in his hands and cracked his neck, dropping the body to the floor.

Not a sound. The only surprised gasp came from me. I glanced at Gor’s glazed expression, alive only one second before.

The monster stared at Barron. “She is not a bleeder and will not be handled as such.”

“Yes, my lord. Of course.”

The beast squatted down to me, his serpentine pupils dilated, observing with predatory intensity. Malevolence rippled off him like a foul odor. I was looking at death himself, except death would’ve been more kind, promising some blissful afterlife. In his eyes was endless emptiness.

His massive hands bore long, extended claws. He used one to tilt my face upward, his claw digging into the tender flesh under my chin. I refused to whimper or cry, forcing myself to hold his gaze, no matter the fear trembling through me. He turned my face to one side, then the other. He pulled the tie holding my braid in place, unraveling my hair with his clawed hand, lifting the dark waves to his nose. His eyes finally caught the mark on my neck, hidden before by my braid hanging to one side. His eyes flared a fiery red. He became preternaturally still.

“Who touched her?” he asked low and deep.

“None of us, my lord,” assured Barron, stuttering. “She’s taken a Morgon lover. Very recently.”

A moment’s pause. He smiled, revealing a row of sharp fangs, canines protruding. My heart raced faster. He was an abomination, some mistake of nature. A horror story come to life.

“Then she can take another.”

He released my chin and stood to his full height, his voice bellowing in the cavern chamber. “She is to be my breeder. No one will take his pleasure on this one.”

A unison of “Yes, my lord” rang out.

In a lower voice, he waved to someone in the shadows. “Commander Gaius. Take her to be bathed and put her in my chamber. I want her upon my return.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He whirled toward the shadows behind him, his knotted spine jutting out and stretching the skin on his back. He flared mighty, black wings. Footsteps fell in line with him and filed out an exit in the wall behind his throne. He was leaving on some other mission. Thank heaven!

Gaius!

Tall, dark-skinned, shaved head, and fierce expression, I would never in my life have taken him for a traitor to this cause if I didn’t know it already. His skin and eyes matched the cocoa-brown of his wings. He was a Woodblade, the only one I’d seen so far in this place. He gripped me by the upper arm, lifted me off of my knees, and led me out a different corridor. I glanced over my shoulder to see Barron following his master along with a troop of others.

Where was I? This wasn’t a cult, that was certain. This was a new society, made of Morgon soldiers who did everything they were told on penalty of death. Ruled by a mighty Morgon god, a beast of unparalleled proportions, who reeked of violence, power, and blood.

As Gaius led me away, four Morgon guards flanked our front and our back. Trembling from the encounter I’d just escaped, I glanced up at the one Morgon who might help to get me out of here. He didn’t even look at me. His expression was hard and focused, like all of the others in this place, and I feared Kol was wrong. Gaius might have switched allegiance to this army of murderers. Or perhaps some dark magic had ensnared him to their cause. I trembled. My best hope may not care one way or another whether I lived or died.

We wound farther into the cavern. The yellowish rock walls sparkled with a sheen. We came out into a circular chamber. Water dripped from stalactites on the ceiling. Thick humidity and steaming pools of all sizes made the place feel like a public bathhouse. Vapor filled the smaller chamber, dampening my skin. I suppose this
was
their public bathhouse.

A russet-winged Morgon, a Rowanflame clan member like Conn, lounged in a pool, his arms resting on the edge, his wings laying flat on the stone, while two scantily-clad women massaged his shoulders. My heart stammered at the thought of one of Conn’s clansmen, distant relation or not, being a part of this foul group of Morgon men. Conn would beat him senseless for shaming the family name if he knew.

Gauis snapped to a halt. “Out!”

The Rowanflame, unaware of us, launched to his feet, revealing his full naked body. Like the other men here, he was in fantastic shape. But it was horrifying rather than enticing. Strong soldiers with sadistic minds and an even more sadistic leader—the combination terrified me. I dreaded I might never escape. I looked away.

“I see we have a new recruit, Gaius. I don’t mind sharing. Bleeder or maiden?”

“Neither.”

“I’ll break her in for you either way.”

“No. You won’t. She belongs to the master alone, and he doesn’t want anyone’s hands or eyes on her. Get. Out.”

Gaius’s voice was a brutal blade. Enough that the Rowanflame took all of one second to move into action. He grabbed his clothes hanging on steel rods pegged into the cave wall and shook the water from his wings before he vanished through another tunnel. Wherever we were, it was vast with a never-ending string of tunnels. Without help, I’d never make it out of here alive.

“Stand at your stations. No one enters,” barked Gaius to the other guards.

They marched to the entrances of the room without hesitation. Gaius had rank.

“Tend to her,” he snapped to the two young women, standing like statues next to the steaming pool the Rowanflame had just vacated.

Both of them were delicate and dark-skinned with pale green eyes. They were from Primus, a human-only province to the West. Their coloring was unmistakably that of the native people there. The two young women, close to my age, wore identical white, gossamer tunics, roped with gold belts around their waists. Their hair was braided into many plaits, coiled and pinned to fall in a stream down their backs. I couldn’t help but notice the bitemarks on their necks and shoulders. Not skin-breaking bites. Morgon-marking bites. They also bore gold-linked chains around their necks with a dangling loop in the front. Most probably to chain them up at night. Were they concubines of some sort? How many lovers were they forced to have? My stomach twisted into a tight knot.