Beyond Time: A Dark Order of the Dragon Novel (The Dark Order of the Dragon Book 2)

by Sandra Bischoff

  Lance growled and punched the wall. Anton’s hears flattened against his head as he bared his teeth. Curling his lip, Lance stared the wolf down. Slowly, Anton backed away, keeping an eye on him.

  The amber glow from his eyes reflected in Beatrix’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her back. And when I do, that bastard is going to wish he slit my throat back in that hell hole.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  When they finally emerged from the cave, Lance shielded his eyes from the blinding sunlight. His brother rushed forward to meet him. Lance shied away from his embrace. He still wasn’t comfortable with anyone making contact. Right now, keeping him at an arm’s length seemed the best thing to do. In his heart he knew Galahad meant well, but his head jumbled with memories and hallucinations. Differentiating between the two was extremely difficult.

  Galahad held out a set of reigns to him. Lance shook his head. “I don’t think I have enough energy to ride,” he lied. After walking on his own from the pit, he more than proved he could ride home. He couldn’t bring himself to sit in a saddle.

  His brother nodded. “I did not think so, but father insisted. I made sure we brought a wagon just in case.” He jerked his head toward it. “Maman filled it with hay and blankets you might even fall asleep on the way home.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again, Gal. Not until we have Beth safe at home and that bastard’s head up on a pike before the drawbridge.”

  “Man after my own heart!” A heavy hand came down on Lance’s back. Sir Geraint laughed behind him.

  He hissed, pulling Galahad’s sword from his belt. Lance spun away, swinging the blade in an arc. The tip caught Geraint’s chin, nicking it. Blood squirted from the wound, hitting Lance in the face. He came to rest in a crouch, panting.

  Beatrix stepped between he and Geraint when the knight made a move to pull his own sword to retaliate. “Nay! You have no idea what he has been through.”

  Geraint let go of his sword and backed up a pace, giving them room. She turned her back on the knight and met Lance on the ground. “’Tis all right. We are going home now. No one is going to harm you.”

  She reached out a hand to him. He stumbled backward the sword still wavering between them. “Christian, give me the sword. You have no need for it now. Sir Geraint did not know of your injury.”

  Lance blinked. “I—I’m sorry.” The tip of the blade dipped.

  “I know. Give me the sword.” Her fingers grazed the back of his hand as she coaxed the hilt from his grasp.

  The tension in his body slipped away. Beatrix caught the hilt. His hand relaxed and released it. She handed it over to Galahad. “Good. Now you and I are going to walk to the cart. Do you think you can do that?”

  Not trusting his voice, Lance nodded. He allowed her to help him up. She wrapped his arm around her shoulders. When Galahad moved to help from the other side, she waved him off. His brother frowned but obeyed. Anton approached and nudged Lance’s leg, letting him know he could use him as another means of support. The three of gradually made their way to the cart. Once there, Lance climbed in and slid all the way to the front. Beatrix followed him and sat on the other side.

  Galahad stood back and watched. It cut him to the core, knowing his brother refused his help but willingly accepted it from strangers. Albeit Beatrix was not a stranger, but it should have been him, not her, and certainly not the wolf.

  As soon as the cart was secure, Galahad untied his horse from the tree he tethered it to. Leading his mount into the clearing, he let out a whistle and swung up into the saddle. Geraint followed suit and without a backwards glance rode up to the front to their party. A few knights joined him while others fell to the back of their procession. The wolves waited for the cart to jerk into motion and slunk off to blend in among the trees. Their presence gave Galahad a strange sense of peace, but at the same time the hair on the back of his neck stood on end with the knowledge he was being watched.

  Reigning in his steed beside Christian, Galahad offered him a skin of water. His brother took it, but rather than drink, he placed it next to him, keeping his gaze averted.

  “Christian, I am truly glad we found you.” When his brother gave no response, Galahad sighed. “When you are finally able to speak to me, I shall be there for you. Take as long as you need.” He clucked his tongue and urged his mount forward, taking up the lead position in their party.

  Geraint glanced over at him. “How does your brother fare?”

  “I do not know. His spirit seems to have broken. The only person he will speak or listen to is Lady Elizabeth’s maid. I have no idea how to get through to him.”

  “Mayhap once he is home and healed things will change. Give him some time.” Geraint rubbed the cut on his chin. “We do know one thing, however.”

  “And that is?”

  “His reflexes are still in top shape and once he is stronger, I have no doubt in my mind the demon will be picking up his own entrails after Christian guts him like a fish.”

  Thirty Two

  Lance slept little on the ride back from his prison in the earth. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind replayed the days and nights of torture on an endless loop.

  He and everyone in the rescue party were amazed at how close he actually had been. On the outskirts of Camelot, he hung in a cave hundreds of feet beneath the surface. How many times did they pass the hole in the ground where Lady Elizabeth had fallen through, never knowing it led to his personal hell. For on the other side of the cracked stone wall he inspected the day she had fallen into the hole, was the passageway to the demon’s torture chamber.

  The moment his wagon pulled through castle’s gates, the inhabitants of Camelot surrounded the cart. Lance couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened seeing them. Never would he have imagined such a homecoming.

  There was only one thing missing.

  “I’m going to make him pay for this.” His voice was a mere whisper compared to the buzz emanating from the people around him.

  Beatrix leaned over. “Did you say something, My Lord?”

  “Just making a promise.”

  A knowing look flitted across her face. “A promise that involves someone who thinks you dead and buried?”

  “How do you know me so well?” He smirked.

  “Call it pack instinct. We wolves stick together and sometimes know what the other is thinking. Keep your faith, Christian. Elizabeth will fight him tooth and nail. Of that you can be sure. Your mate is waiting for you.”

  “You seem sure of that.”

  “I am. Lady Elizabeth will never allow him to possess her. She will die before she allows it.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “Aye, I am equally sure it will not.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Your mother approaches. I must be off. I promised to keep watch over your mate and I mean to do it.”

  Lance gripped her hand tightly. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Aye, Christian, you must. ‘Tis my vow to keep.” She pried his fingers from her hand.

  “Promise me you will be careful.”

  “Always.” Beatrix pulled the cloak over her head. She emerged from underneath the cloak in the form of a wolf. She licked his cheek and jumped from the wagon darting off toward the line of trees beyond the castle walls.

  He watched her vanish in the tall grass. “God speed, Bea.”

  “Christian!” His mother’s shrill cry boomed above the rumbling voices around him. She pushed her way through the throng of people, hopping up every few feet t so he could see her.

  His mother henpecking him about how he had gotten himself tortured and maimed was not something he wanted to hear right now. The woman hadn’t been part of his life since he was six years old. Ever since he arrived, all she seemed to want to do was play catch up in the mothering department.

  Forgive me for not wanting to play along. I survived. Let it end there.

  But he knew she wouldn’t.

  Elaine reached the
wagon. Tears of joy streamed down her face. She reached up to cup his bearded cheek. “It’s really you! That bastard gloated about what he did. When they told me you had been found, I was afraid it was another one of Rimmon’s tricks.”

  “No, it’s me, Maman.” He smiled weakly.

  Her brows pulled together. Looking deep into his tired eyes, he knew without a doubt she understood what had happened to him. Her voice lowered. “I wish I could have protected you. This should have never happened.”

  “But, it did.” Lance pulled her hand from his cheek, holding it captive with his own. “He took many things from me in that hellish pit. Rest assured, the demon will get what’s coming to him.”

  Elaine nodded. “I know he will. We are all here with you to make sure that happens.”

  “We?” Lance looked out over the thinning crowd. He saw Galahad making his way toward them after seeing to the horses. One member of their family was noticeably absent. “Where is father?” He scooted to the back of the wagon so he could climb down. The rough hay poked at his wounds, making him wince.

  “He and the King have been plotting Elizabeth’s rescue for hours. I’m sure they are holed up in round table hall with the other knights. Shouldn’t you let someone help you out of there?” Elaine stepped up next to him when he reached the end of the wagon.

  “Aye, he should, but the damn man is more stubborn than his sire.” Galahad positioned himself on the other side of Lance. “Here, use me as a crutch.”

  Lance eyed him warily, still not wanting to be touched.

  “Come now, I am not about to bite you or hurt you in any way. You are my brother, Christian. I would have gladly taken your place had I been able to.”

  Gritting what was left of his teeth, Lance snarled at Galahad. “Never say that shit to me again. You have no idea what they did to me in that pit! I wouldn’t wish that on you or anyone else.”

  “I only meant--”

  “Never mind,” he snapped. “Just get me to the round table.”

  “I think you should rest first.”

  “Honestly, Gal, I don’t give a shit what you think right now.”

  Resting a hand on his brother’s shoulder, he allowed Galahad to guide him to the ground. He wrapped an arm around Gal’s shoulders and together they made the slow journey toward the keep.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Elizabeth stared out over the stark landscape. With winter looming on the horizon, the land surrounding Rimmon’s keep was cold and barren -much like her heart. When the demon first told her Christian was dead, she didn’t want to believe him. In the depths of her soul she knew he still lived.

  The door to her chamber opened. Elizabeth resisted the urge to turn and look. She knew who, or what invaded the personal space she’d been granted. The scent of sulfur permeated the room, making her choke. Taking her by the shoulders, Lord Rimmon spun her around to face him. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.

  “I have had enough of your pining away for him. The wolf is gone and you will be my wife. It is time you accepted that.” Growling, Rimmon wrapped his arms around her like a vice. He crushed his lips to hers.

  She gaged as his tongue invaded her mouth. Rather than struggle, she bit down hard. The demon roared in pain. He threw her aside. Elizabeth tumbled to her left, tripping over a chair and landing on the cold stone floor. From her vantage point she smiled in satisfaction, wiping his blood from the corner of her mouth.

  She lifted her chin defiantly. “Nay, I will never accept that Christian is dead. He will come for me.”

  He grabbed a handful of her red tresses, hauling her up from where she sat. “He will never come for you. I made sure of it.” He snarled a mere inch from her face.

  “I do not believe you.” She winced as his grip tightened.

  “No?” Rim shoved her back into the chair and tossed a small pouch in her lap. “Maybe this will prove to you that your beloved wolf is dead.” Without waiting for her reaction, Rim spun on his heel and left her alone.

  With shaking hands, Elizabeth untied the strings. She dumped the contents into her open palm. Her breath caught in her throat. Two long, blood-stained canine teeth rested in her hand. Tears clouded her vision and streamed down her cheeks. The memory of the night she first saw Christian with fangs danced through her mind. He marked her as his mate with them and now she held the only thing left to remind her of him.

  Closing her hand around Christian’s teeth, she wanted Rimmon’s blood.

  She would have it, one way or another.

  First though, she would have to figure out who in his household could be trusted with the task she needed completed. Who would get her the weapon she needed?

  A soft scratching came from the door to the corridor. Elizabeth slipped Christian’s teeth back into the pouch and hid it in the folds of her gown. The scratching became more frantic the closer she got to the door. A low whine echoed on the other side. Her heart slammed in her chest.

  Christian!

  Elizabeth pulled open the door and a furry blur ran past her into the chamber. She immediately slammed the door and locked it.

  The animal darted behind the bed. Elizabeth followed, expecting to find Christian. Instead she saw a woman’s hand reach up and pull the covers down on top of her. She sat on the floor with her back to Elizabeth tying the blanket around her slim body. The woman tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder and used the bed as leverage to stand. When she turned with a bright smile on her lips, Elizabeth felt her legs go weak.

  “Beatrix? You--You are--a wolf?” Elizabeth landed on the bed when her knees gave out.

  “Aye, My Lady. And I have news you need to hear.” She sat next to Elizabeth and held her hands. “I have come to tell you, Christian lives! As soon as he is recovered he will be coming for you.”

  “He’s alive? ‘Tis impossible.” She held out the pouch to Beatrix. “His Lordship handed me these. He said Christian was dead.”

  Beatrix took the pouch and felt the teeth through the fabric. A pained look flitted across her face. “I shall not lie. He was tortured badly. I don’t know the full extent of his injuries. But, I know he lives. I was the one who found him.”

  “In that case, Bea, I shall need you to acquire something for me. When Christian arrives I wish to give him the welcome he deserves.” Elizabeth beamed.

  Thirty Three

  Lance lay under a glowing green dome on a table in Merlin’s chamber. With every pass of Zephyr’s hands over his body he became more restless. Freeing Beth and bringing her home were his main priority. Laying here under the supernatural MRI twice a day did nothing more than piss him off.

  “How much longer is this going to take?” Lance cracked his knuckles intentionally to break Zephyr’s concentration. By the look on the vampire’s face, he succeeded.

  “It will take as long as it has to.” The glowing dome vanished. “Do you want to go after my brother in your present condition? He will eat you alive.”

  Sitting up, Lance rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms over his head. “Believe me, I know exactly what Rim can do. I have the scars to prove it.”

  Zephyr looked away. “Yes, about that--”

  “Don’t. Don’t go there. All of this--” Lance waved a hand around the room. “All of it was supposed to heal me.”

  “I thought it would. But, Christian . . .”

  “No.” Lance strapped his sword to his hips and headed toward the staircase. He paused at the bottom step, punching the stone wall. Rock and mortar shot back at him, falling to the ground. “All of the magic in this place and no one can make me whole again. Where is the justice in that? I didn’t come here to be made into a eunuch.”

  “You are not a eunuch. You will not be able to have any children. That damage even I cannot repair.”

  Staring at the dusty rubble at his feet, Lance couldn’t bring himself to look at Zephyr. While his teeth and fangs had been replaced by the magic Zephyr wielded, the emotional scars were going to take much longer
. His nails had grown back. The damage wrought by Rimmon on them was nearly undetectable. But those weren’t the injuries that took the greatest toll on him. The vampire was the only one who knew the truth of his situation. Everyone else only speculated. Even when his mother conveyed to him what Rim had told her, Lance denied it profusely. He didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes or anyone else’s.

  All they knew was, he returned with wounds which would heal and maybe a little post-traumatic stress. The rest of it, he kept to himself. It was no one’s concern.

  Lance sighed. “I know. Z, how am I going to tell her? How will Beth react to what that bastard did to me?”

  “The only way to find out is to ask her.” Zephyr tilted his head to the side. “You still have a few hours of daylight. Why don’t you go see how you fare on the range or on the training field? If your wounds bother you too much, return and I’ll do another round of repair on you.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Lance started up the stairs and paused. “Hey, all of this work you’re doing on me, how is it affecting you? I mean, do you need anything?”

  Zephyr chuckled. “Your concern for my well-being is heartwarming, but no. I have everything I need.”

  “If you say so.” He stood there watching Zephyr straighten up.

  When the vampire realized Lance was still lurking, he faced him. “Was there something else you needed?”

  “Sort of. I need you to do something for me. If this whole rescue mission goes south--”

  “You worry over nothing. The plan to save her will work.”

  “If it doesn’t--”

  “Fine, if it does not, what?” Zephyr folded his arms across his chest, frowning.

  “Promise me you will get her out of there.”

  “Me? Why not your family or the King’s men?”

  “Because you know Rim better than they do.”