SkyFall (Taken on the Wing Book 2) (56 page)

Tempest draws confidence from the older
gold as a pained hiss from Soar pushes her forward, past the wall of doubt that
still intrudes on conscious thought. Without waiting for Spite, she circles
Aledaar and closes the route out through the main chamber. Each step steals
more of her reserves as the weight of the battle, her experience with the
silver chain, and her recent portals sap all but what she needs to take two
steps and take Aledaar
’
s life.

“
Son of a
—”
Soar
gasps. He must be back on his feet. Tempest discerns two sets of boots moving
in the place his voice came from, one much larger than the other. His steps are
quick then there is the rustle of his feathered wings against Fury
’
s leather ones as Soar fights with the
same tactic Tempest used earlier; stay out of reach until Fury makes a mistake.

Spite moves on Aledaar, spitting fire, as
the old gryphon chooses the same moment to attack. Both wings flare as he rises
on his hind legs, battering Spite and Tempest, then he
’
s airborne enough to slash with his hind
legs. Fear drives Tempest back a step while experience drives Spite forward.

In order to avoid Spite
’
s axe, Aledaar moves on Tempest. Her
sword comes up, slicing through the draft created by Aledaar
’
s pounding wings. The defensive blow
knocks aside his hind foot and severs
tendons
.

Then Aledaar
’
s weight passes over Tempest as his feet
find purchase in Fury
’
s red armour. One talon sinks
into Fury
’
s shoulder and the pair takes
Soar down as Tempest and Spite plunge after them. The chamber echoes with
Aledaar
’
s screech as he scrambles
clear.

Instead of withdrawing, Tempest releases
a soundless bark and clears her last mental barrier.

As Fury roars and clutches the deep and
bloody wounds to his shoulder he turns his back to Aledaar. Soar takes
advantage and grabs Fury from behind, wrapping himself around the dragonkin
lord. Tempest spares a moment to lock her eyes with Soar. His nod as he
positions his arms around Fury
’
s throat frees her of her last
worry for him
.

Aledaar completes a staggering pivot on
his hobbled leg and Tempest drives forward as her sword moves of its own
accord. Gold leather wings shimmer and snap, tracing Spite
’
s circle around Aledaar
’
s flank, and Tempest
’
s attack draws Aledaar
’
s
attention. As the shifted gryphon slashes out with his deadly talons, Spite
moves. Tempest
’
s sword arcs through the air
behind her and she moves dangerously close as Aledaar wraps a claw around her
free arm. The other talon grabs, coming within inches of her throat then
disappears.

Spite
’
s axe claims the limb in a flash of steel.

Aledaar screeches, a high, chilling keen
only produceable by a fully shifted gryphon. The noise tapers off as Tempest
buries her sword up beneath his breast feathers. Spite
’
s arms close around Tempest and pull her
away just before the relic can swing free and come into contact with her hands.
As Aledaar drops back, the handle moves in time with his pierced heart.

“
Bastard,
”
Spite
hisses a
s Fury
screams in pain. Other screams echo from the main cavern as Lev shouts orders
to his remaining fighters. Tempest barely listens. She can
’
t take her eyes from the spectacle of the
dying Generous Sire. Aledaar
’
s remaining arm grasps at the
blade as his body fails. His fingers tighten around the exposed blade but
little blood comes from the wounds. Flight feathers fade as his exposed hind
feet shorten and the fur retracts leaving the veiny calves of an elderly human.

She
’
s
seen enough and doesn
’
t look at his face as she
places a foot on his chest. With Spite
’
s
help, Tempest draws the blade free as Fury collapses and quiet overwhelms the
outer chamber. Somewhere beneath Fury
’
s
prone form, Soar struggles to get out from under the big gold.

Only the frantic clash of blades from
Talon and Torrent remains as Torrent backs Talon into a corner. Talon still
holds the small dagger and in spite of their bloodied
blade
s, neither shows any signs of weakening.

It
’
s
only a matter of time before one makes a fatal mistake.

“
Talon,
”
Spite whispers as she takes control of
Tempest
’
s hold on the sword. With a
powerful twist of her body, the blade flies free in an elegant, arcing spin.

Torrent pauses, eyes giving away his
surprise with only a slight widening. Talon doesn
’
t look.

Torch
’
s dagger clatters to the ground as Talon
brings both arms up and takes a step back, snapping his hands together. His
empty hand captures the flying blade and with nothing more than a whisper, they
scissor together, cleanly removing Torrent
’
s head.

Blood flies, both from Torrent
’
s neck and Talon
’
s blades as he follows through, allowing
them to cross once behind his head before he gets control and drops to his
knees at the same time as Torrent.

Soar,
Tempest mouths as he finally pushes Fury
off and gets to his feet.

“
You can
’
t talk?
”
Spite
asks and Tempest pulls her collar back to show the wound. The older gold gives
a reassuring smile.
“
I have others to attend to,
Tempest. Then I will take care of that.
”

Spite moves first to Soar. His jaw
tightens at her approach but he stops and lets her touch him. First, she holds
a hand over his bloody nose then takes a few more seconds to pass it over his
chest and belly. The she speaks quietly in his ear. Soar drops his eyes to
Tempest's shoulder then acknowledges Spite with a curt nod before she moves on
to Fury
.

“
Little
gryphon,
”
he whispers.

Soar pulls back her collar to examine the
hole in her chest and his mouth tightens as he glances to her eyes. There
’
s warmth as he grasps her shoulders then
runs his hands down her arms, probing for more injuries. Then he traces the big
bones of her wings, gently unfolding them and scanning the leather for tears.
He checks her back and drops to his knees, probing her belly for tenderness.
Each time he moves his hands, he offers her skin and their young another verse
in the old tongue.

“
I love you,
”
he
whispers and his breath hitches as he pulls Tempest to the floor, folds her in
his wings and hides her, keeping his small family all to himself.

 
“
Just once,
”
Tempest whispers.
“
While this seat is still mine
…”

Soar growls as she nibbles the circular
bite mark below his ear.

Tempest doesn
’
t sit on Aledaar
’
s
gold chair, Soar does. She curls up in his lap as much as she can considering
her growing belly. The two months following Aledaar
’
s death have passed in a blur of
ceremonies and meetings.

Soar loses his hand in the folds of her
official red robes and rubs her aching scars. The heavy salve, a gift from Lady
Spite, eases the stretching as he works it into the tight, smooth marks.

“
Do you think Lev will accept?
”
Soar
asks.

“
Mm,
”
she mumbles.

The Council honoured an old law and placed
Tempest at the head of the Grand Council, a position she accepted only until a
permanent replacement could be chosen. The replacement, Sire Lev, has yet to
learn of the appointment. If he doesn
’
t
accept then she
’
s back to wearing a flat spot
on her butt as she sits in the awful gold chair.

Lev
’
s
acceptance will make things much easier for Tempest and Soar. If he declines
then she
’
ll spend much of her time on Bolshevik Island and Soar will have duties on Vancouver Island as master of Lev
’
s guard. If Lev chooses to lead the
Council then Tempest will be free to do as she pleases, to raise her young at
home with Talon and Shadow
’
s little gryphons. It
’
s a
‘
for now
’
plan they both can live with.

“
Tempest!
”

Torch, the young gold dragonkin who
delivered messages to the Vancouver Island Eyrie and has become very attached
to Tempest and Soar, stumbles in interrupting their quiet moment. She chose to
wear the reds of the Will when she decided to remain in Tempest
’
s service instead of returning home to
Skyfall.

“
Torch,
”
Tempest softly chides.
“
Apparently you are in too much of a hurry
to show this chamber and its Lady the proper respect.
”

“
Oh, right,
”
she
grins before she approaches and kneels, wrists up in submission.
“
My Generous Lady Tempest, Sire Lev and
his delegation have arrived.
”

“
Ah, see? That
’
s getting easier for both of us,
”
Tempest touches Torch
’
s
wrists.

At first Tempest refused to accept the
title and greeting but Soar reminded her that acceptance of respect as the
Council
’
s head wasn
’
t negotiable. Bearing the kneeling and
deference is in itself respectful of the seat she occupies and the Council.

Soar removes his hand from Tempest
’
s robes since it had wandered above her
scars, sliding beneath her adornment and cradling her breast in his rough palm
before the young dragonkin burst in. Though Soar
’
s skin has healed from his fight with
Fury and his scales, he still bears deliciously uneven callouses on his palms.
She can
’
t resist the way they vibrate
against her sensitive skin.

“
Um,
”
Tempest mumbles as her cheeks turn red.

“
It
’
s okay,
”
Torch nods.
“
It helps.
”

Torch looks at Soar. He chuckles and
kisses the rough edge of Tempest
’
s ear.

“
This room,
”
Torch
continues.
“
So many bad memories. I can
come in without fear now that there
’
s
love here.
”

“
Up you get,
”
Soar
lifts Tempest to her feet and she pauses only long enough to kiss Torch on the
forehead. Then Soar takes Torch
’
s hand and leads her to the
side of the chamber.
“
We
’
ll
let Lady Tempest work.
”