Master of Swords (15 page)

The dragon made an impatient gesture with one clawed hand. “Gawain. The ape.”

Edge glowered and lied. “I'd have beaten them.”

Laughter rumbled, sounding like icy stones grinding together. “Your magic was all but gone. Gawain and its female would have slain you.”

Edge didn't answer. He needed to get the hell out of here. Did he have the magic to gate himself to safety?

Something huge swept out of the green shadows and slammed into his thighs, batting him against the wall like a tennis ball. Light burst in his skull, followed instantly by pain. He bounced and fell on his ass.

Dazed, out of breath, Richard watched the dragon's tail lash. The creature had hit him with it like Barry Bonds bashing a homer.

“When I lower myself to speak to you, you will pay attention,” the dragon growled. “Now, ape, do you want the power to kill Gawain?”

He rubbed his aching thighs and considered attacking his captor. Better not. It would probably eat him.

Besides, this conversation was beginning to get intriguing. “I want the power to kill them all.”

“Do you, now?” Something that might have been interest flashed across that inhuman face. “And who is
them
?”

“The Magekind.” He curled a lip. “I want to wipe every one of the sanctimonious bastards off the face of the Earth. Either Earth.”

“Now that,” the dragon said, “sounds like a worthy goal.”

An hour after
the battle, Lark listened as Gawain finished briefing the High Council with the emotionless dispatch of a professional soldier.

She wished they could get this over with and go home.

Tired to the bone, she glanced around the huge circular chamber where the combined councils of the Majae and Magi met in an emergency joint session. Arthur had called both bodies together after Gawain reported the fight with Edge and Roth, as well as the mystery dragon's bizarre involvement.

The two councils sat on a dais behind an imposing walnut semicircular table that was more an enormous desk than anything else. The table's wooden facade was beautifully carved with scenes from the Magekind's long history—Merlin and Nimue addressing the High King's court, both looking deceptively young; Arthur drinking from the Grail; the knights gathered around the Round Table; Morgana using her power for the first time as the ladies of the court looked on.

In contrast to the massive table, the council members were informally dressed, the men in jeans or chinos and short-sleeved shirts, the Majae in slacks and knit tops or sundresses. They all looked serious and alert, leaning forward and frowning in concentration as they listened.

Except for Tristan and Diera. Unless she was very much mistaken, they both looked almost smug.

“What did you do about the boy and his family?” Morgana asked Lark. As usual, she wore one of those white power suits of hers, set off by a vibrant red blouse.

Lark surreptitiously dried her damp palms on the thighs of her jeans. She hadn't been able to stand wearing her armor any longer. “Timmy started to wake up after Roth was killed, but I cast a spell to keep him asleep while I helped Gawain with Edge. After Edge disappeared, Kel and I put the house back to rights and sent the family into a natural sleep.”

“You're lucky the neighbors didn't call the cops,” Diera observed dryly. As one of the senior Majae, she'd served on the Majae's Council for years.

Lark shrugged. “The house was pretty isolated. I don't think anybody heard us.”

“This thing with Edge and the dragon concerns me,” Arthur said, frowning heavily. “Kel, are you sure it was one of the Dragonkind who took him?”

Kel snorted from Gawain's shoulder. “Believe me, it's not the kind of situation I'm likely to mistake.”

“Could the Dragonkind have formed an alliance with Geirolf 's sorcerers?” Tristan asked.

“Not likely. It's probably one rogue individual.”

“What leads you to that conclusion?” Arthur asked.

Kel flicked his wings and frowned, as if searching for a way to explain. “Ten thousand years ago—not long by dragon standards—Dragonkind and the Sidhe were enemies. They hunted us for our hides, and we sometimes ate them. Then the Dark Ones came to Mageverse Earth and started killing and enslaving everyone. They captured our king, Cachamwri…”

Lark looked over at him. “The dragon god you're always swearing by?”

Kel shrugged. “He wasn't a god then. Even the Sidhe were mortal. Anyway, the Dark Ones were torturing Cachamwri when a Sidhe warrior named Galatyn sneaked into their fortress on a raid. He found the dragon, took pity on him, and decided to help Cachamwri escape. Cachamwri started killing Dark Ones, and as he did, he absorbed their power, along with the life force they'd been hoarding.”

“Which was a great deal of power,” Morgana concluded.

“Enough to make Cachamwri a literal god. The remaining Dark Ones fled for their lives to Mortal Earth. In gratitude for Galatyn's help, Cachamwri made the Sidhe immortal and forbade the Dragonkind from treating them as enemies.”

“So where did the taboo on relationships with humans come from?” Diera asked.

Kel furled his small metal wings. “My people have very long memories. Many don't trust the Sidhe or humans, regardless of Cachamwri's orders.” He shook his head. “Even so, Dragonkind would never form an alliance with Geirolf 's sorcerers. Geirolf was a Dark One, and his spawn practice the same kind of death magic he did.”

“Yet someone has obviously decided to overlook all that,” Arthur pointed out. “Any ideas who?”

Kel shrugged. “The only other dragon I know willing to have anything to do with humans is Soren…”

“Soren would never help those wretched sorcerers,” Morgana said impatiently. “He gave us the spell to destroy the black grails in the first place.”

“I never said he was involved,” Kel pointed out. “I merely said he's the only other dragon I know of willing to befriend humans.”

“Well, obviously another of them is doing it,” Gawain said. “The question is, who?”

“Whoever it is has some pretty strong shields,” Kel told them. “I tried to trace the gate spell, but its creator blocked me.”

“Curse him,” Bors growled. “If he hadn't helped Richard escape, you'd have ended this. Now my son is going to start rebuilding his power. Merlin knows how many people he'll kill in the process.” The knight looked haggard and drawn, as if, immortal or not, the news of Edge's treachery had aged him.

“We'll just have to get Edge before he starts killing in earnest,” Arthur announced. “Or, better yet, we could find that last black grail and kill the whole lot of them.” He turned toward the Majae's side of the table. “Any progress on locating it?”

“No.” Guinevere dragged a weary hand through her blond hair. “We've been working with Llyr Galatyn, but we haven't been able to pin it down yet.”

“We will.” Cold rage made Morgana's eyes burn in her pale, elegant face. “I'm damned if I'm going to let some collection of jumped-up thugs prey on our people.”

Everyone murmured agreement. Lark and Gawain exchanged a silent glance.

Edge was a lot more than a thug. And a lot less.

 

After the meeting
, Gawain walked over for an intense, low-voiced chat with Arthur, Lancelot, and Galahad.

Lark just wanted to go home and take a nap. Despite that, she summoned a smile as she saw Tristan and Diera leave the dais and head toward her.

“I've always known you have so much potential,” Diera said softly, drawing her into a quick hug. “I'm glad to hear you're beginning to realize it, too.”

Lark hugged her back. “I was just trying to stay alive and keep that little boy from getting killed.”

“And you damned near fried yourself doing it,” Tristan said. For once, there was no reserve in his eyes. “I'm proud of you. And John's going to bust his buttons.”

Lark smiled at the image. “I figured I was dead, so why not go for broke?”

“A great deal has been accomplished by people who had nothing to lose, Lark,” he said. “It can be a valuable attitude.”

“It was this time.” She hesitated before admitting, “The power was incredible. I never realized I was capable of anything like that.”

Diera smiled. “Which is the reason you weren't able to do it until now.”

Arthur looked over at them. “Tristan? If you'll quit gloating over your great-granddaughter and get over here…”

The knight laughed. To Lark's astonishment, he gave her an awkward peck on the cheek and walked away.

She stared after him. “Whoa.”

“I haven't seen him look that happy in centuries,” Diera confided.

“Yeah?” Lark turned back to her friend. Who, come to think of it, was looking more relaxed and happy than she'd ever seen her. Particularly considering that Gawain was in the room. “How's it going with Antonio?”

Diera's expression softened even more. “He's…” She broke off and cleared her throat. “A very promising young Magus.”

“Uh, huh.” Lark grinned in delight. “You're falling for him!”

“Don't be ridiculous. I barely know the man.” But her attempt at an aloof denial was spoiled by the flush on her cheeks.

“I've noticed that doesn't seem to matter a heck of a lot with the Magekind.”

“Well, it matters a great deal to me.” Diera's lips twitched. “Though he is very good. And very determined.”

“And I can guess at what.” Lark's teasing grin broadened.

“And how are things with you and Gawain?” Her friend searched her gaze, looking a bit concerned.

Erotic. Terrifying. I'm in deep trouble.
Instead of saying what she was thinking, Lark shrugged. “Well, you know Gawain.”

Sympathy gleamed in Diera's eyes. “I certainly do.”

 

Richard Edge watched
warily as his dragon captor considered him with cold, alien calculation.

“So,” the beast said, “you draw your magic from death.”

“Yes, but the most power comes from the death of someone with magic of their own.” Richard curled his lip. “Particularly someone ancient. Like a knight of the Round Table. Though…” He frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose one of the really powerful Majae would be even better.”

The dragon's tail tip flicked back and forth, drawing Edge's wary attention. After the last time the creature hit him, he was keeping an eye on that tail. “Yeessss. One of the females
would
have more magic to drain.”

“The problem is getting to someone like that when she's not expecting it.” Richard frowned. “Using sorcerers as bait isn't working well enough. The Magekind go in expecting a fight to begin with.”

“Obviously, you must strike when they believe themselves safe,” the dragon said. “When they're in their own nests in that city of theirs.”

“In Avalon?” Incredulous, Richard stared at the beast. “Won't work. They've strengthened the city's shields. I can get a wisp of magic through, but that's about it.”

The massive head lifted with a jerk, nostrils flaring. “I assure you, no barrier created by those creatures can keep
my
magic out. I will examine their shields and create a spell for you.” The dragon paused, considering. “Then I will give you enough power to secure your first kill—I doubt you could slay one of the elder Maja without my assistance. After that…”

Edge grinned. “I'll take it from there.”

 

Gawain tried to
concentrate on the discussion of how to capture Edge, but it was tough going. As usual, in the aftermath of a battle, the Desire was awake and demanding to be fed.

But it wasn't hitting him the way it usually did.

Normally he'd be checking out every unattached Maja in the room—and there were several he knew who wouldn't turn him down.

This time, though, the only woman who interested him was Lark. Every move she made drew his eyes: the way she absently flipped a lock of hair away from her face, the roll of her hips when she shifted her weight, the elegant grace of her gesturing hands. She laughed at something Diera said, her voice musical and unconsciously sensual. He hardened at the sound. Damn, he wanted her, Edge and rogue dragons be damned.

Now.

“I'm afraid it's time to brace ourselves for the coming apocalypse,” Lancelot said.

Jerked back to earth, Gawain turned to find his friends studying him with blatant speculation.

Arthur lifted a dark brow. “I don't think the situation with Edge is quite that grave, Lance.”

“I wasn't talking about Edge—I meant Gawain.” Lance grinned slyly. “Roomful of women, and he's only aware of one of them.”

“I see your point.” Arthur gave Gawain a sidelong glance and smirked.

“Kiss my ass,” Gawain gritted. To his appalled surprise, he felt his cheeks heat.

Tristan's eyes widened in astonished delight. “Look at him—blushing like a virgin!”

“Awwww,” Galahad drawled. “That's so sweet!”

Gawain flicked a finger in a very old, very obscene hand gesture.

“I think the mortals have a phrase for this,” Lancelot said. “What is it again?”

Arthur grinned and supplied, “‘What goes around, comes around.'”

“That's the one.”

Gawain had given Lance and Galahad hell a few months ago when they'd found their Truebond mates. “This is not the same thing!”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Pharaoh,” Galahad said.

Deciphering the jibe, Gawain glared at him. “I am
not
the king of denial!”

“Son, you're so far up that particular creek, you need to hire oarsmen,” Arthur told him.

“What I need is to get laid.” Deliberately turning his back on his friends, he stalked toward Lark.

“Oh, yeah, that'll work,” Galahad called.

“About like trying to put out a forest fire with rocket fuel,” Lance agreed.

“Bet you a bottle of blood he's Truebonded this time next month,” Arthur said.

“You're on,” Galahad replied. “I give it a week before she's got him hog-tied with an apple in his mouth.”

Lance snorted. “More like two days.”

“And you wondered why I was so proud of my great-granddaughter.” Tristan sounded downright smug.

Gawain pretended not to hear.

 

Hearing the hearty
male ring of laughter, Lark turned to see Gawain stalking toward her, his expression thunderous, his eyes glittering.

Diera followed her gaze. “What's he so angry abou…” She broke off, her eyes dropping below his waist. “Oh.” She skittered away as Gawain strode up, caught Lark's forearm, and started hustling her out of the council chamber.

“Gawain, what…?” Lark tried to tug her arm free, but though his grip wasn't tight, she couldn't break it. “Hey, wait a minute!”

He flashed her a dark, hungry look that made something flutter and heat low in her belly. “I need you.” Lust seemed to radiate from him like body heat.

Lark swallowed. Suddenly she wasn't even remotely tired.

Her nipples hardened. Gawain's gaze dropped to those tell-tale peaks and blazed even hotter. With a soft growl, he hustled her down the hall and into the nearest room.