CHAPTER TWENTY
C’Tan ground her teeth in frustration and instructed her winged mount to circle Dragonmeer. The dragon’s wings snapped and popped in the wind as he glided through the low clouds that hid the castle from her sight. So close, so very close, and the flute had disappeared. Well, she wasn’t going to let a thing like that set her back. She knew where it had been last; she’d just start there and track it, though there would likely be few standing when she was through. She’d take her frustration out on the very stones of the ancient keep if she had to. That flute was hers. Hers! And no mere shielding would keep it from her again.
Dragonmeer. She could feel it near now. There! A break appeared, and C’Tan guided the great black beast into a steep dive through the mist above the granite castle. She circled it slowly to get her bearings and to determine the greatest entrance effect. She could come in flaming, but that would accomplish nothing except to ease her frustration and send people screaming into the safety of the walls.
No. She needed something more subtle—something that would get the best results with the least effort. She was inspired at the sight of carriages winding their way from the keep. She guided her mount away from the fluttering piñons, over the gated drawbridge, and onto the winding road. The drake landed with huge beats of his wings and settled her softly in the midst of the darkened road. Three more dragons landed behind her and discarded their passengers. Kardon, as usual, approached the instant he dismounted.
“Mistress. There are three sub-humans heading into the woods. Should we delay them?” he asked in his ageless rasp.
C’Tan glanced to the line of trees and saw a lone figure plunging into its depths, most likely a traveler who had run in fear of her and the huge dragons. She snorted in contempt of her old master.
“No, Kardon.”
“But mistress, they may have the flute,” he continued. She turned the full force of her chilling gaze on him.
“But? Did I just hear you say ‘but’ to me?” Kardon’s eyes never left her face, nor did he show any fear, though wisely he did not answer. She crooked her finger to draw him near. He stepped slowly forward until he was within arms’ length. C’Tan reached her perfectly manicured fingers with their blood red nails out to tip his chin. “Never say ‘but’ to me. My word is law, is that clear?” she hissed as her face pressed close to his. A spark of anger flashed in his eyes, but was suppressed as quickly as it arose.
“Yes, mistress,” he snarled, never moving.
“Good.” She flicked her fingernail along his chin, drawing a small bead of blood which he quickly wiped away. “Forget the subhumans. We’re looking for a flute.”
“Yes, C’Tan,” he said. He bowed himself back to his own drake, where he took comfort in the scaly head of the beast. C’Tan scratched under the chin of her mount. She looked at the dragon thoughtfully. More than a mount, she realized, chuckling, as she whispered into the dragon’s ear hole.
Drake nodded his great head once in agreement and began to shift. He shrank in size—his wings pulled into his shoulders and disappeared. Crooked legs and claws straightened and fused while his long tail pulled into his hindquarters and sprouted thick hair. His head squared and teeth flattened. Where seconds before a massive black dragon had squatted, now stood a midnight stallion pawing at the ground.
C’Tan heard startled exclamations from around her, and the other dragons shifted themselves to match her mount. She sauntered to her changed friend. She patted him on the shoulder, then ran her hands down his well-formed legs.
“Beautiful,” she murmured in his ear. He threw his head and snorted, making it clear he was unhappy with the change. “It’s just until we reach the city. You’re perfect, my love.” She stepped into the stirrup he had provided and sat astride his massive shoulders. He fit her exactly. All the years of riding together in one form or another, and he knew how to fit her body like skin on a drum. It was exhilarating.
What power she held, that even her mount would change himself to suit her needs.
C’Tan did not need to turn in the saddle to know that Kardon and her soldiers were ready. The stillness as they waited told her all she needed to know. The dragonmount moved forward at a trot, then ran down the path leading to Dragonmeer and the Sapphire Flute. She’d wring the truth from the duke’s people with fire if she had to. The flute would be hers if she had to take every life in Dragonmeer to find it. C’Tan’s lips twisted in grim expectation as hooves echoed across Dragonmeer’s bridge.
The Sapphire Flute: Book 1 of The Wolfchild Saga Page 27
