Master of Dragons (21 page)

Nineva sprang from the bed, anger and desperation in her snapping eyes. “So we're just going to let the Dark Ones invade because we think the gods aren't pulling their weight?”

“No,” Kel snarled through gritted teeth. “We're going to stop them. But I'm damned if I'm going to incinerate the woman I love just because some so-called ‘goddess' says so. We're going to gate the army to that mountain Soren found, and then we're going to hunt the bastards down and kill them. And
you
are going to be in one big, non-crispy piece when we do it.”

“And what if we fail?” Nineva shouted. “What if Dark Ones destroy the wards and we don't have the power to stop them because…we didn't have the guts?”

He stared at her coldly. “You mean because
I
didn't have the guts.”

Nineva sat back down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Finally she lifted her head and sighed. “Kel, this is what I was raised to do.”

“No, this is what your daddy
brainwashed
you to do. There's a difference.”

“You leave my father out of this!”

“Why? This is all about him. You think sacrificing yourself on Semira's altar will somehow make up for his getting himself killed when you were a kid.”

“He didn't get himself killed, Kel.
I
got him killed.”

“
You saved a fucking dog
. He could have run, Nineva. He could have taken your mother and gone in the opposite direction from wherever he sent you. Instead, he decided to die a martyr, and sacrifice your mother in the process. Well, I'm not helping you follow in Daddy's footsteps.”

Nineva curled her lip at him. “Fine. You want to be bullheaded and stupid, fine. But when the Dark Ones swarm us like locusts, don't say I didn't warn you.”

 

Silence lay between
them like a huge icy weight as they prepared to gate to the outskirts of Avalon.

Did he really think she
wanted
to burn, Nineva thought, so angry she couldn't even speak. After all the times she'd woken up sweating and crying, how could he think dying in flames had any appeal to her? She had no desire to be a martyr, no matter what he thought.

But if it meant saving both Earths from the Dark Ones, she was willing to do it. Hell, those bastards would make her suffer just as much if they won anyway. It made more sense to make sure nobody else had to go down with her.

But noooo. Kel was convinced he was right. Besides, he didn't want to deal with the guilt of having to hurt her.

Why she was so in love with the man was a total mystery. He was an idiot. A romantic, softhearted, arrogant idiot.

And she wished he wouldn't keep giving her those icy, aloof looks. They made her crazy.

The moment he gestured the gate into being, Nineva stepped through, having no desire to be alone with him any longer.

She emerged onto a hill overlooking Avalon. The city sprawled white and serene in the light of the moon, like a sleeping goddess. In no mood to appreciate the view, Nineva stepped aside so that Kel could gate in, the grass crackling with frost beneath her feet.

There were dragons everywhere she looked. Eyes glowed in the moonlight, scales glinted, wings furled or stirred restlessly. And even more astonishing, each one of the great creatures bore a rider, some in the armor of the Magekind, others in that of the Two Kingdoms.

Noticing the harnesses the dragons wore, Nineva hid a tight, slightly malicious grin.
I'll bet they loved that.

Those not mounted on dragons rode armored Sidhe horses. “They must be under one hell of a spell,” Kel commented in a low voice. “Horses generally don't like dragons very much. We eat 'em.”

Nineva barely heard. Her attention had fallen on a group of towering, muscled figures with long lupine muzzles, wolf-pointed ears, and claws like knives. Thick fur covered them—deep red, black, brown, gray, white, and blond in a range of shades that matched normal human hair color. “What the hell are they?” she whispered, forgetting for the moment that she was furious at him.

“Dire Wolves.” Kel shrugged. “Or werewolves, take your pick. Merlin created them to keep an eye on the Magekind. We only recently found out about them.”

“Werewolves? Like the queen? But she turned into a regular wolf after her baby was born.”

“Dire Wolves can assume more than one form.”

“There you are.” They looked around as Arthur strode toward them in a gleaming suit of golden armor, intricately engraved in magical symbols. He wore Excalibur sheathed across his back tonight, the gems of the great blade's hilt catching the light of the magical torches. For the first time, Nineva could believe he was the king the legends spoke of.

Llyr walked at his side in iridescent dragon-scale armor. One of the huge werewolves followed. It was odd to see familiar silver eyes looking out of that savage wolf face.

Nineva dared step closer to the werewolf as Llyr, Arthur, and Kel conferred. “Where's Prince Dearg?”

Diana smiled, flashing white and intimidating teeth. “Back at the palace with his great-grandma Oriana and every guard we've got. Anybody tries anything, Oriana will turn 'em into a frog.” She sighed. “I hated to leave him, but I've got a feeling we're going to need every Dire Wolf we can get.” Her gaze shifted to her husband's face. “Besides, I was damned if I was going to let Llyr ride into battle without me to watch his back.”

Nineva nodded, her own gaze drifting to Kel. Pissed as she was at him, she felt exactly the same.

Every instinct she had whispered that this was about to get ugly.

 

Piaras howled in
rage, his golden body lashing in the spell that held him. Even Varza found herself taking a step back from his fury. He roared Draconian curses and threats, demanding that they return the stolen Egg even as he swore he'd take his revenge for what they'd done to him.

He'd flown right into the trap without hesitation. It apparently never occurred to the Dragon Lord that the Sidhe could be a real threat.

It had taken more than a hundred warriors—fifteen of whom lost their lives—but at the end of the day, Piaras had been bound in chains of magic. With Arralt's magic holding the dragons contained, Varza was able to possess the beast just as she had her Sidhe victims. This time, though, she'd let her victim's spirit live. The better to use him later.

After that, stealing Cachamwri's Egg had been child's play—though admittedly nerve-wracking child's play. Keeping the Dragon Lords from sensing her possession of their leader had taken every bit of skill and magic Varza had.

But she'd done it. Now they had Semira's Sword, Merlin's Grimoire, Cachamwri's Egg—and the sacrifice that would power the first stages of the spell.

Good thing, too. Even through the wards, she could almost sense her master's impatience.

She turned from Piaras just as Arralt strode toward her, radiating a raw excitement. That didn't surprise her. He was one of those who was intoxicated by risk.

But then, he'd never had the Dark Ones teach him the price of losing.

“My forces are ready to gate,” he announced.

“Good. My master's warriors wait as well,” Varza told him. “Prepare the sacrifice.” She turned and moved to the altar she'd conjured in the center of the great chamber. Around it lay the twisted lines of the death spell she'd drawn, waiting only the last rune to complete its magic.

Her master's orb hovered over the altar, casting its yellow light over sword, book, and egg. Death magic hung in the air, heavy and black with potential.

“Sacrifice?” Piaras demanded, sinking back on his haunches as Arralt's men surrounded his spell cage.

No one bothered to answer as the rebel general walked over to the altar and accepted the dragon spear she handed him. Over fifteen feet of thick Sidhe wood, it was heavily worked with runes to strengthen it. Its razor-sharp head was the length of his forearm.

Fear flickered in the Dragon Lord's eyes as Arralt moved toward him with the weapon in both hands. “You would not dare, ape!”

Arralt gave him a faint, cold smile. “I would dare a great deal, lizard.” To the ten warriors who surrounded the dragon, he added, “Ready yourselves.”

The men, his most experienced fighters, gave short, tight nods. He dropped the spell cage that held the dragon.

Instantly, the great beast lunged for him, jaws opening in preparation for a blast of magical fire. The nearest warrior cast a spell line that snapped around the creature's muzzle like a rope, jerking his mouth closed. Piaras reared, dragging the warrior off his feet. The dragon jerked his head, trying to dash the Sidhe against the far wall, but the other fighters were already casting their own lines.

Everywhere they touched him, the spells immobilized his body, freezing legs and wings until he was finally left sprawled on the stone floor, panting in defeated rage.

“Turn him on his side,” Arralt ordered.

Other warriors ran forward to lend their strength on the lines. With grunts of effort, they managed to roll the struggling beast until his chest lay exposed.

Arralt radiated icy pleasure as he approached the Dragon Lord. Piaras's muscles twitched with effort to fight, only to subside into helplessness under the weight of the binding spell.

The general drew back the spear and drove it into the beast's chest. Piaras grunted in agony and convulsed as the point penetrated his heart.

Quickly, Varza hurried forward and grabbed the spear as Arralt stepped away. She jerked it from the dragon's chest and used its bloody point to draw the last crucial rune on the floor.

As the dragon died, the stink of released death magic made even Arralt gag. Varza barely noticed, all her attention on the magic rising around her like a storm.

She lifted the point again and turned to the altar where the Grimoire lay open. Using the dripping spear, she scrawled a symbol across the tome's pages. Throwing the weapon aside, she picked up the Sword of Semira and nodded at Arralt.

He stepped forward and lifted the Egg high over the Grimoire. Without hesitation, Varza rammed the sword right through it. Blood poured from the cracked shell and fell on the open book.

And the spell exploded in a soundless burst of light. Raw energy lanced up from the altar, shooting toward the ceiling of the cavern and knifing right through the thick stone.

When the glare faded, the book was gone.

Breath held, Varza extended her senses upward, reaching for the wards that surrounded the planet thousands of feet above. She saw the spell strike the barrier and sizzle along the lines of force. Everywhere it touched, the wards faded and went out.

In a heartbeat, all of them had vanished.

Varza smiled, but it was more snarl than anything else. “It's done.”

Arralt and his men, the fools, cheered. Evidently the general hadn't noticed the life she'd lived back on Odra, or realized he'd just delivered himself and his people to the same fate.

Rakatvira's voice blasted from the orb, clear now that the wards were gone. “The conquest begins now. We move on Avalon.”

One minute she
was talking to Diana. The next, light exploded in her head with a white-hot burst of agony, and she was on her knees, gasping and blind.

“Nineva!” Fear rang in Kel's voice. He caught her and drew her into his lap. “What is it?”

“Semira…,” she rasped. In the depths of her mind, she could hear the goddess screaming. “Something's happened to Semira…”

Diana's voice rang somewhere off to the left, tight with panic. “Llyr! What the hell is going on?”

“Cachamwri. They…attacked him…” Llyr sounded as weak as Nineva felt. He must be down, too.

A woman cursed with impressive inventiveness. “The wards are gone. That's what's hit the Avatars—they did something to the sword and the Egg.”

“Not to mention Grim,” Arthur snarled. “Well, that's torn it. We're fucked.”

“Gates!” a man shouted. “Somebody's gating in!”

“Dark Ones!” The roar of warning went up, followed almost instantly by battle cries and blood-chilling, inhuman howls. Around the hillside, dragons leaped skyward in a thundering wind of beating wings.

“Magekind!” Arthur bellowed over the wind as he began to run. “Attack!” With a roar, his people charged in his wake.

Aware of countless armored feet rushing past, Nineva struggled to drag herself out of Kel's lap, despite her debilitating weakness. “Help me up!” she grated through her teeth. “We've got to go fight!”

“I know.” Kel rose and pulled her upright with one hand. “Well, you warned me,” he said grimly. “And you were right.”

“I don't think it would have mattered.” Nineva braced her legs and fought a wave of dizziness. She felt gutted, and the familiar heat of Semira's Mark was gone from her chest. “We wouldn't have had time to finish the spell before they hit us.”

“Could we do it now?”

“There's no point. I can't feel Semira at all. I think she's dead.” Nineva knew better than to let herself think about that now. Guilt would cripple her, and she needed to be able to fight.

Llyr was up now, too, though his face was white and grim as he made for the dancing roan stallion another Sidhe held for him. Diana hovered anxiously as he swung aboard the huge animal. “Are you sure you're up to this?”

“I have to be,” he told his wife grimly, driving his spurred heels into the horse's muscular ribs. “I'm king!” He galloped toward the sound of battle, Diana loping at his heels. The other werewolves followed her, lifting their voices in chilling howls that rang across the battlefield.

“I've got to change, too,” Kel shouted to Nineva. “We'll do more good if I'm in dragon form.”

“Go!” she cried, stepping back. The rest of the army had already disappeared down the hill to engage the Dark Ones, so he had plenty of room to transform.

She felt his magic flood over her skin, and he was a dragon again. Given the howls and screams coming from the battlefield, Nineva was damned glad of it.

She ran forward, grabbed the harness he wore, and managed to haul herself up and onto his neck. He leaped skyward before she was even settled. Nineva grabbed at the straps, kicked her feet into the stirrups, and held on for dear life.

Kel's huge wings carried them up and over the battle into a sky full of darting, fire-breathing dragons and their warrior passengers. Unfortunately, it was also full of magical blasts, boiling with energy and zipping through the air like antiaircraft fire.

The blasts were huge, easily the size of boulders, and a seething blood red.

And they stank of death magic.

One ate through a dragon's shield even as he twisted and fought to escape. A heartbeat later, he and his rider burst into flame and fell screaming from the sky.

“Holy fuck,” Nineva whispered, chilled to the marrow as she looked away from the impact.

Kel jolted under her. “Arthur!” She had to grab for the harness as he suddenly went into a dive, plummeting toward the ground. She managed not to scream and conjured a crossbow with a magical bolt nocked in it.

They found Arthur squared off with an enormous Dark One. The alien looked surprisingly like a medieval wood-cut of a demon, standing a good nine feet tall on two hooves, its lower body covered with thick black fur. The rest of it was bright red, with huge clawed hands, tusklike teeth jutting from its lower jaw, and a pair of curving black horns. It hacked at Arthur with a huge axe it held in both hands. The axe rang against Excalibur as the alien tried to batter its way through Arthur's guard.

It had apparently landed at least one good blow. A river of scarlet spilled down the vampire's armored chest as he danced around his foe. It looked like far too much blood to Nineva's healer's eye.

The Dark One looked up and saw Kel plummeting toward him. The creature fired off a spell blast, forcing Kel to jerk to one side. Even as the dragon steadied under her, Nineva took careful aim with her crossbow and fired. Her bolt lodged in the Dark One's massive shoulder, but he brushed it off like a mosquito.

Oh,
she thought,
that's not good at all
.

Kel slammed into the Dark One like a freight train, knocking the alien off his feet. There was a sickening crunch, and the dragon roared in pain. Nineva conjured another bolt and stood up in her stirrups, trying to see over Kel's massive body. She saw nothing but a blurring impression of a lashing dragon neck and the flash of the Dark One's magical axe. There was no way to get a shot at all.

“Kel!” she screamed over the howls of combat. “Dammit!” She vaulted from the harness. Landing on her feet, she scuttled around the dragon, narrowly avoiding his swinging tail.

Blood ran down Kel's muzzle from a wound over his eye as he breathed a gout of flame at the Dark One. The blast boiled off the creature's shield with such heat and power, Nineva could feel it from where she stood.

As the flames died, the Dark One charged, drawing back his axe as he aimed for Kel's head.

Nineva fired her crossbow right into the alien's eye. The creature toppled, its body bursting into flame as her spell tore through it.

Stunned, she dropped her bow and stared. She hadn't expected that to actually work.

“'Ware right!” Arthur roared in her ear. She jerked around as Excalibur flashed, parrying a sword swung at her head by a Sidhe in black rebellion armor. An instant later, Kel's flame rolled over the rebel, who fell from his saddle, shrieking as he died.

“Sweet Semira…,” she whispered, shaken by her close call. If Arthur hadn't blocked that swing…“Thanks, Arthur!”

“What the fuck are you doing on the ground?” Kel roared. “Do you want to get killed? Mount up!”

“What part of me saving your life did you miss?” But she ran for his offered scaled hand and let him boost her astride his neck.

“Thank you! Now stay in that damned harness before you get stepped on.”

“That's why I've got Gwen on a dragon,” Arthur shouted. “These bastards are a little too fuckin' powerful, Kel. I hope to hell we can take them.” He took a deep breath and charged the nearest alien, bringing up Excalibur for a blurring swing. The creature bellowed as it whirled to engage him with a massive sword of its own.

Nineva scanned the battlefield as she conjured another crossbow bolt. Her heart sank. Here and there were dead demon bodies, true, along with a great many fallen rebels.

But there were entirely too many lying dead in Magekind or Two Kingdoms armor, alongside the bodies of their horses and dragon allies. Many of the corpses were so badly mauled and burned it was impossible to tell whose side they'd been on. But it looked uncomfortably as if the allies were losing.

“This doesn't look good!” Nineva shouted as Kel took to the sky again. She aimed her crossbow and fired off a blast at a rebel. It bounced off his spell shield, and he kept hacking at the vampire he was fighting.

“I know.” Kel flew toward a group of rebels and blew a plume of fire down at them. Fireballs splashed against his shield as he climbed away.

She stared down over one beating wing. It looked as if a couple of the rebels had fallen, but the Dark One who led them didn't even break step. He flung himself at a Dire Wolf, and the two huge monsters started tearing at one another with claws and fangs. The Dark One tried to burn the werewolf with a spell, but the beast simply shrugged off the blast and kept trying to rip out his opponent's throat.

“We could use a few more werewolves,” Nineva shouted.

“We could use a few more everybody,” Kel called back grimly. “The odds suck.”

Abruptly, flame flashed just above them. Nineva ducked instinctively, then straightened at the sound of a familiar mental voice.

Kel…

“Cachamwri!” The dragon almost tumbled out of the sky in his surprise as he stared up at the god. “You live!”

Barely. I need you, boy. I need you to help me recover from what they did to me.
And it was apparent just looking at him that whatever spell the rebels had worked had cost Cachamwri dearly. Where before he'd blazed with colorful flames, now he appeared almost ghostly, his outline transparent.

“Whatever I have is yours,” Kel told him.

“What about Semira?” Nineva demanded. “Do you know if she lives?”

Aye, but greatly weakened. She still clings to existence within her sword, but if she is not freed soon, she will be lost.

For the first time since the battle had begun, Nineva felt a flicker of hope. “At least she's alive.”

From the corner of one eye, she saw something shoot at her head. She hastily flattened herself over Kel's neck as the fireball whizzed over her.

We need a moment's quiet to do this, boy,
Cachamwri told them, and pointed his muzzle toward the crest of the hill.
Head over there.

Obediently, Kel flew over the battlefield, dodging blasts and arrow attacks as he went. “It's not going well,” he told Cachamwri.

That's putting it mildly. You're losing. The Dark Ones are preparing to gate in more reinforcements.

Kel cursed as Nineva's heart sank to her booted toes. “We're screwed.”

Not quite yet,
Cachamwri said.
Not if we act quickly.

“We'll do whatever we have to,” Nineva told him.

“Yes,” Kel agreed grimly. “Whatever it takes.”

They landed on the hill a moment later. Nineva swung down from the harness, her gaze straying to the battlefield. There was, thank the Goddess, no sign of more gates yet.

But even without fresh Dark One forces, it was apparent the allies' losses were too great. Many lay dead or wounded, while those still standing were locked in desperate battle with the Dark Ones and the rebels.

Behind her, she heard Kel ask, “What must I do?”

Open your mind to me,
the Dragon God said.

 

Guilt stabbed Kel
again at the sight of Cachamwri's pale, ghostly outlines. Despite what Nineva had said, he knew he was responsible for what had happened to the Dragon God, not to mention the imminent destruction of them all at the Dark Ones' hands.

He'd been so sure there was a way to avoid sacrificing Nineva. And he'd been wrong.

Now he had to make it right.

Kel dropped the mental barriers that he'd always maintained to protect his magic and his thoughts. He opened himself completely to whatever the Dragon God cared to do to him, forced every muscle to relax in surrender. “I'm ready.”

Pale fire flashed as Cachamwri shot toward him. For an instant, the god seemed to take up his entire field of vision.

And then Cachamwri hit him.

It was like being thrust into the heart of a sun—a blinding wave of heat and energy. Then came the alien memories, the mind so impossibly vast and ancient he could scarcely comprehend it at all. Kel found himself shrinking away from that massive consciousness in awe and dread.

Cachamwri may have been a dragon once, but he was something entirely different now. Something that might snuff Kel out like a candle.

Buck up, boy. I did not choose you as my host by accident. Relax and let it come, and you'll find the strength you need
.

Yes, Burning One
. Despite his instinctive fear, Kel reached out to the great, glowing presence that filled his mind. Touched it.

And in that moment of contact, he sensed the surprising depths of Cachamwri's love.

Then the god wrapped him gently in great, glowing wings. Understanding flooded Kel like a tsunami of light. He saw what Cachamwri needed from him, just as he saw how to save both Semira and Nineva. And he realized that his guilt was pointless, because this couldn't have happened any other way than it had.

And instantly, everything became clear.

You had to allow the theft of the Egg,
Kel realized.

Yes. Otherwise the Dark Ones would only have found another way to invade in another five years,
the Dragon God told him
. And I would have been unable to prevent them from succeeding. Billions would have been enslaved, and Semira and I would have been destroyed. By luring them here now, I may be able to kill their leader, Rakatvira, preventing his next attempt.

May?

Nothing is ever certain.

The Dragon God had taken quite a risk to save them, and it had almost cost him his life. The destruction of his Egg had gutted his power. To rebuild it, Cachamwri had to take physical form again in order to reconstruct his connection with the Mageverse. He was far too weak to create a body of his own, so he needed to borrow an ally's.

Llyr had been an option, but his Sidhe form was too frail to survive the union. Kel alone had both a dragon's sheer strength and power—and, most importantly, the love of Nineva Morrow, Avatar of Semira. Because it was that love that would enable them all to survive.