Dragonsworn

  Falcyn felt the blood drain from his cheeks as those words sank in and he realized that for the second time today, he'd been lied to. Not that he should be surprised. His biggest shock came from the fact that they'd all managed to keep the secrets. "Blaise? Did you know about this?"

  "No. I was told she went down fighting against Morgen with Anir." Anir was King Arthur's son, who'd been turned into a gargoyle due to another curse the fey bitch had put on him and his knights.

  Medea placed her hand on Falcyn's forearm in a comforting gesture before she leaned against his back. "Kessar is a treacherous bastard. Don't trust him. He wouldn't know the truth if it bit his furry little ass off."

  Kessar.

  Now that was a name Falcyn knew well. "So posh boy's the gallu leader the Sumerian gods turned against. Bet that ruined your day, huh?"

  "You should know, son of Lilith."

  Blaise sucked his breath in sharply between his teeth. "Never, ever ... ever bring his mother into things. That's just a good way to get your ass kicked, as he tends to madly lash out whenever you mention she-who-should-never-be-named."

  "You should listen to my brother, demon. At least I know my mother's name. Which is more than you do." He swept a grimace over Kessar. "And if you know that much about me, then you know who and what fathered me. So if I were you, I'd run before I decide to pull the wings off you for fun and pin you to a wall somewhere to throw darts at whenever I'm drunk."

  Unperturbed, Kessar examined his claws. "Fine. I take it you've no interest in learning where they sent your sister?"

  A slow, insidious smile spread over Falcyn's face. "Oh, I'll find her. As soon as I eat your brains and absorb the information."

  Faster than Medea could blink, Falcyn was on Kessar, tearing at his flesh. With an unholy growl, he snatched the demon's head back and would have ripped out his throat had Kessar not vanished.

  Blood dripped from Falcyn's hands and chin as he sneered up at the dismal sky. "What? Was it something I said? Come back here, you pussy bastard! What kind of demon runs like a bitch over a small bite?"

  Urian crossed his arms over his chest as he met Medea's shocked stare. "And now you know why I had my reservations about seeking out our not-so-friendly dragon for conversation. You just can't take him out in public. Or private either."

  Medea would have made a comment had Falcyn not decided to lick the blood from his fingers. "They have these things called napkins, you know? Been around for thousands of years now. You should try one."

  Wiping the blood from his lips with his knuckle, he grinned at her. "A squeamish Daimon? Seriously? Besides, I like the taste of my enemy's blood. It soothes me. Blood of my friends is even better, but they tend to get a little testy whenever I partake of my favorite delicacy."

  Blaise sighed. "Really, we tried home-training. He failed miserably. But he's awesome when you need someone killed and you don't have a place to hide a body. He eats all traces of it. Better than a pet Charonte demon."

  With one last lick to his middle finger, Falcyn turned back to Blaise. "Can you transform?"

  "Haven't tried. Why?"

  "I can't."

  Blaise looked sick to his stomach at that realization. After a second, he shook his head. "Why can't we turn?"

  "That would be the disturbing question of the moment, wouldn't it?"

  Urian laughed nervously. "How do we get back?"

  "There's always a portal of some kind." Falcyn turned a slow, small circle as he surveyed the land around them. "We just have to figure out where it is and what it looks like. You know ... fun shit that, always."

  "Yeah. Lots of fun." Urian's voice dripped with sarcasm. "And avoid stray magick and demons."

  "And everything else," Medea added.

  "Exactly what she said," Falcyn muttered under his breath.

  "So glad I got up this morning." Blaise sighed heavily. "Hell, I even bathed."

  Falcyn passed a smug sneer at him. "So glad I'm stuck here with all of you. Bitching and moaning. I suddenly feel like I'm teaching kindergarten."

  Medea shook her head at Falcyn's droll tone. "I know why I need your dragonstone. What's the deal with the others, anyway? Why are they so hot to lay hands to it?"

  "Aside from the fact that they're assholes?" Falcyn headed for the woods. It seemed as likely a spot as any to find an enchanted portal. "Narishka wants it to bring Mordred back to life."

  "Mordred le Fey?"

  He inclined his head at her. "Yeah. Apparently, they think they've found his tomb, and Mom wants a reunion with her precious little boy." He smirked. "Personally, I'd like to reunite them in hell. Who's with me?" His gaze went first to Urian, then Blaise. "Really?" he asked drily. "No takers?"

  Medea shrugged. "I might be tempted if I knew who you were talking about."

  "Queen Bitch, Morgen le Fey. Can't miss her. Tall, gorgeous, meaner than shit. Blond and lethal."

  "Sounds like me ... except for the height."

  He laughed. "That's what all the stories about you say. Are they true?"

  "Depends on your side of things. My mother says I'm not mean enough."

  "Ouch." Falcyn sucked his breath in sharply. "Take it Mommie Dearest has some issues?"

  Medea snorted. "Her issues carry Samsonite."

  Urian came up between them. "Enough getting along, you two. It's starting to creep me out. The last thing any of us needs is a meeting of the two evils."

  She rolled her eyes. "Already had that. My parents. Besides, Falcyn doesn't strike me as evil."

  Falcyn cocked his head at that, instantly intrigued. No one put him in any other category. Ever. In fact, most ran from him as if he were his father--the fount of all evil itself. And the majority of beings had no idea what spawned him. They only assumed it, given the nature and position of his father. "Really?"

  "Hmmm." She swept a probing stare over his body. "While you are definitely cantankerous, you don't take pleasure in hurting others."

  "And how do you know that?"

  Medea smiled. "Been around real evil long enough to know the difference. Trust me, sugar, you ain't got it by a long, long shot."

  Falcyn slowed as she quickened her steps to catch up to Blaise. What the hell was that?

  A compliment?

  He wasn't quite sure, since he didn't normally get them from anyone.

  Kicks in the ass and teeth?

  Those he took routinely.

  But strokes to the ego? Foreign, alien beasts he had no concept of. Weird. And it left him with a strange feeling in his stomach.

  Maybe those were the aforementioned hunger pangs.

  Yet it felt like a hunger for something other than food, for once. And made him harder than he'd ever been in his life.

  Urian reached over and brushed his thumb against Falcyn's jaw. "You're gaping, brother. Might want to close that before you catch some flies."

  He slapped at Urian's hand. "Don't be an ass."

  "Can't help it. Spent too many centuries as the right hand of evil, myself. Left a black mark on my soul."

  As they neared the edge of the woods, Falcyn had the eerie sensation of being watched. Thankfully that curbed his attention where Medea was concerned, and distracted his gaze from straying to her constantly.

  Damn, she was a lot more distracting than she should be. If his body didn't stop, he was going to start cutting pieces of it off.

  Falcyn rubbed at the hairs on the back of his neck that had risen. "Blaise?"

  "Yeah ... I feel it."

  Medea's dark eyes met his and did the strangest things to his stomach. Which made him even harder, damn it all. "What is it?"

  "Not sure." Falcyn walked backward so that he could scan the meadow as he tried not to think about why he wanted to stay close to her to protect her from whatever threat he sensed. That was an innate dragon trait. One he didn't want to scrutinize, because the ramifications terrified him.

  He saw nothing around them.

  Not that it meant anything, given the powe
rs some of their preternatural brethren possessed. And he really missed being in his dragon's body right now. A dragon's sight was very different from that of a human's. Much sharper and clearer. And while a trace of that followed him into a human body, it still wasn't as good as it'd be in his other form. Which was why Blaise wasn't blind as a dragon.

  Only as a man.

  Then Falcyn heard it.

  A mere wisp of breath. So low as to be virtually inaudible. To a normal creature. But he wasn't normal. Too many centuries of fighting for survival had left him paranoid and highly attuned to everything around him.

  Like Medea's soft lily scent.

  Especially that subtle shift in the air that said he was being stalked by something invisible. Something approaching fast on his right ...

  With lightning reflexes honed by battle, he reached out and grabbed their pursuer.

  "I mean you no harm!" The sound of a woman's voice shocked him.

  Falcyn tightened his grip on what felt like a throat. "Show yourself."

  She materialized in his fist and, as he'd assumed, his hand was wrapped about her neck. Large lavender eyes swallowed a face that appeared more girl than woman, and yet the fullness of her leather-wrapped body said that she was well into her twenties. Physically, anyway.

  Probably older given the amount of power and confidence he sensed from her. That level of expertise came from a creature who was centuries old.

  "What are you?"

  She rubbed at his wrist to remind him that his death-grip was cutting off her ability to speak. Another action that said she was older than a frightened teen.

  Falcyn relaxed his hold, but not enough to allow her to escape. He wasn't a fool and he hadn't lived to his own advanced age by playing one.

  "I'm Brogan."

  "Didn't ask your name. Don't really care. I asked what you are."

  "Cursed. Exiled and damned. Please, let me go and I can help you."

  She was hedging and he didn't like it. Creatures who played games usually had something to hide. "Why?"

  "Why should you let me go? So that I can breathe."

  Falcyn ground his teeth. "No, why should we trust you to help us?"

  "Because I want out of here more than anything, but I lack the powers to break the seal or bargain for freedom. If you take me with you, I'll show you where a portal is."

  Still suspicious, he released her. "And again, I ask what you are."

  "A kerling Deathseer."

  Falcyn conjured up a ball of fire and held it so that she knew her own death was imminent. "Deathseer or seeker?"

  A seer saw death. A seeker caused it.

  Holding her hands up, she stepped back from him. "Seer," she said quickly, letting him know that she got the less-than-veiled threat in his actions. "Though ofttimes the Black Crom uses me to find his victims."

  "And why is that?"

  "I was sold to him for such."

  Falcyn moved to kill her, but Blaise caught his arm.

  "Don't hurt her."

  Aghast, he stared at him. "Are you out of your mandrake mind?"

  Blaise snorted. "All the time. But not about this." He held his hand out to the petite brunette. "Come, Brogan. I won't let him harm you."

  Allowing the fire in his hand die out, he scowled at Blaise. "Can you see her at all?"

  Blaise shook his head. "I can only hear her voice. Why?"

  Because she was exquisitely beautiful. Her long dark brown hair that had escaped her tight braids made perfect spirals around her elvish features and pointed ears. Enchanting features the fey often used to lure others to their doom. And that included her tight brown leather pants and corset that were covered by a flimsy green robe, and the fey stone necklace and diadem she wore.

  But if Blaise couldn't see it, then it wasn't a trap for him. "Why are you attracted to her?"

  "Didn't say I was. I only hear the truth in her voice. She's not lying to us. So I think we should help her."

  "And no good deed goes unpunished. You help her and you're likely to pay for it. In the worst way imaginable and at the worst possible time."

  Blaise sighed heavily at Falcyn's mistrust that had come from a lifetime of betrayal. "What I love most about you, Fal. Your never-ending optimism. It bowls me over."

  Perhaps, but sadly he expected only the worst from those around him, and very seldom had they risen above his low expectations.

  Tucking down her gossamer wings so that they couldn't be seen, Brogan retrieved her knapsack.

  As she started past Falcyn, he stopped her. "You harm him ... or cause him to be harmed in any way--even a hangnail--and I will make sure you die in screaming agony."

  Her eyes widened at his threat. "I see no death for him. You've no cause to threaten me on his behalf."

  As she moved to walk beside Blaise, Medea dropped back to Falcyn's side. "What's a kerling?"

  "A conjuring witch."

  "That why you asked if she sought death?"

  He nodded. "Kerlings can be a handful."

  "Known many?"

  "No, but I've killed my fair share."

  Brogan gasped and glanced over her shoulder at Falcyn.

  With a fake smile, he waved at her.

  She let out a squeak and sidled closer to Blaise, who cast a fierce grimace in his direction. "What did you do?"

  "I smiled."

  "Ah, that explains it, then. It's such an unnatural act for you that you look like some questing beast whenever you try."

  Falcyn screwed his face up as Blaise allowed the kerling to lead them.

  Medea frowned up at him. "So what's the deal?"

  "With?"

  She jerked her chin toward Blaise. "You only heel for him. Why is that?"

  "I don't heel for him. I protect my brothers."

  "So you say, but that's not what it looks like from where I'm standing."

  "Then you need to get a pair of glasses, a better vantage point, and look again."

  "Don't get testy with me, dragonfly. I merely find it fascinating that you'd tuck your claws in for your brother. It just seems out of character for you. And weird."

  "Weird?"

  "Yeah. I never tuck mine in for Urian. Rather I use him as a sharpening strop."

  "That's the truth. She lets blood every time she gets near me."

  Falcyn bristled under her probing stare. "We're dragons, not Daimons."

  Medea went cold at his words. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "We're cold-blooded. The only warmth we have is our family, so we tend to shelter them more closely than others do. Why? What did you think I meant?"

  "She thought you were taking a dig that we feed off each other's blood."

  Falcyn snorted. "Oh ... there is that. Honestly, hadn't thought about it. Or I might have pointed it out."

  Brogan glanced at them before she leaned in closer to Blaise. "They always carry on like this?"

  "Not really. They just met."

  "Yet they argue like a married couple ... hmmm."

  Falcyn summoned another fireball for the witch.

  Medea caught his arm before he could launch it. "Barbecue her, Simi, and we're stuck here with no way back."

  "Not stuck. Just detained."

  "Yeah, well, I need to get home. Can't afford to be detained any longer than necessary. So tuck the fire and temper, princess, and be nice."

  "I'm never nice," he said sullenly.

  He didn't even like the sound of that four-lettered word. Hmmm, maybe there was some Simi in him, after all.

  Suddenly, Brogan stopped.

  Falcyn scowled at her as she cocked her head. "There a problem?"

  Her eyes turned a peculiar color that defied all description. It was a strange fey hue that said she was tapping arcane powers to read their environment.

  With the faintest whisper in her voice, she spoke. "Death is upon us."

  4

  Before Falcyn had a chance to ask Brogan what she meant, the ground around them began to boil. Liter
ally. Chunks of soil bubbled and churned as if it were a living, breathing creature about to rise up under their feet.

  Medea cursed as she danced around it to avoid being tripped. Likewise, he jumped over a segment of the ground that burst beneath him. It shot chunks of earth, grass, and mud everywhere.

  "What the hell is this? I'm too old for hopscotch."

  Brogan gasped as she jumped over another erupted rut. "Svartle Orms. Whenever the smiths break for the day, the orms are let loose from the forges and they stampede to freedom."

  The head of one ugly, foul beast came up from the ground. It opened its mouth, showing off rows of serrated fangs.

  "They're also starving," Brogan added. "And will eat anything they catch the scent to."

  "Not on your menu, buddy." Falcyn let loose his fireballs into the beast's throat.

  Howling, it lunged for him.

  Medea fell in at his side, adding god-bolts to his fire to help fry the bastard. Urian and Blaise covered Brogan.

  "What should we do?" Blaise asked her.

  Brogan lifted her arms and began to whistle gently. The crooning went through Falcyn, making his sensitive ears ache. Blaise made a sound of sharp disapproval.

  Still, she continued. Until it began to drive the orms back. "Run!" she said. "Head for the boulder caves! They won't enter there."

  As they started for them, a cold wind came whipping through the trees.

  "Ignore it and keep going! Don't look up. Eyes ahead!"

  Don't look up? Was she kidding? Now it became an imperative need to do so. But conventional wisdom said it would be all kinds of stupid to defy Brogan's order.

  All kinds of--

  Crap!

  Falcyn glanced up before he could stop himself.

  And the moment he did, fire rained down from the sky.

  Not just fire. Rocks. Lava. And some kind of stinging larvae.

  Brogan made a sound of supreme disgust. "What part of don't look up did you not understand, dragon!"

  "The part that it's a dragon's nature to do what we're told not to!"

  Blaise cursed and swatted at the bugs. "What are these things?"

  "Bloodvlox. Don't let them break your skin or they can infect you and take you over. If they land near your ears, they can crawl inside and ingest your brains! And keep them away from your eyes, too."

  Medea hissed and slapped at one that was trying to burrow under her skin. "How do we get rid of them?"

  "Fleabane, but I don't have any on me and can't conjure any until we get away from the orms." Brogan swatted at them. "I'll boost your powers so that you can teleport to the caves over there. It should be enough to get you to safety. But you'll have to do it fast, before they catch on and you lose the ability again."