Treoir Dragon Chronicles of the Belador World: Book 2

by Dianna Love

  Could this be the afterlife?

  Probably not for him to be freezing like this.

  Staying still as he came closer to consciousness, he drew on his senses.

  His arm muscles burned, holding the dead weight of his body. Not dead yet. Now that he could sort out what was going on, he hung from manacles clamped on his wrists. The blood trickling down came from where those metal torture devices cut into his skin and scraped bone. Similar straps held his ankles to the wall behind him. Bumpy and rough surface. Could be stone.

  Damp smelling, too.

  Voices rumbled low this time.

  Without making a sudden move, he opened his eyelids, peering through eyelashes. His head hung to his left side, but with a small movement, he could see a wide area.

  Why was it so freaking dark in here?

  Not entirely dark. He squinted. Flames burned in two spots maybe a hundred feet away. Torches?

  Was this a castle dungeon? Had he stepped back in time? Doubtful. But where the hell was he?

  A low male voice said something Tristan couldn’t make out.

  That screechy female voice shouted in some odd accent, “You want to be partners, but you treat me like a slave. Worse than a slave.”

  Tristan kept peeling his eyelids open a fraction at a time. Once he allowed enough light in to see clearly, he recognized Cathbad the Druid, who had captured him.

  But he had no clue about the identity of that woman yelling at Cathbad.

  Thinking back to when he realized Cavan was actually Cathbad, Tristan tried to recall if he’d been able to tell Daegan about the druid in his last telepathic message. He couldn’t say for sure.

  Now he remembered why his chest hurt so badly.

  Cathbad had hit him with something that had claws. A baseball bat ... with claws?

  He didn’t know.

  Voices rose and dropped, pulling Tristan’s attention back to the nattering pair.

  They faced each other with their profiles turned to him. Cathbad had on his usual slick suit and perfect hair.

  Mysterious screeching woman had a sexy-as-hell body, beautiful skin, and blond hair ... all that dripping wet. She wore some kind of armor. Sure looked as if it had molded onto her shapely body.

  At one time, Tristan would have given that one a second look, but not when he had a woman like Mac at home.

  Also, Mac was no shrew.

  Cathbad argued, “I do not treat ya as a slave. I treat ya as a child, which is how ya behave. If you do not care for bein’ kept in that icy pond, stop pushin’ me. I have warned ya and warned ya that tryin’ to attack me is unwise.”

  She slapped her hands on her hips and stuck her face close to his. “I am not child. I warn you not to test me, but you do. You are just as wrong. How can I be partner with one like you?”

  Tristan glanced past them to a big freaking pond with chunks of ice floating in it.

  Had Cathbad thrown that woman in there?

  What a bastard.

  With another visual sweep of what he could see in this place, he determined they were in a massive cavern with a sixty-foot ceiling. Maybe higher.

  So he wasn’t in TÅμr Medb? Not that he wanted to be, but at least that realm would make sense. Cathbad normally hung out there plotting evil plans with Queen Maeve.

  Why was Cathbad here and not there?

  Cathbad and Hot Chick finished a long stare down during the silence.

  Backing away first, Cathbad walked off shaking his head. When he turned to her, he pinned her with a sharp look. “What will it take for ya to realize ’tis a greater plan at hand? Ya wish to kill one person? Why would ya not want more than that?”

  The woman facing Cathbad pulled her shoulders up, flashing more armor. Her obstinate attitude rode the air. Golden hair flowed everywhere when she turned her head. Toned legs a mile long stopped at some badass metallic-looking boots. She held a shield at her side.

  What era had she come from?

  Blond hair and built like a female Viking. She spoke broken English. Was she Swedish? What kind of being was she? A witch, maybe? How powerful could she be if Cathbad bullied her and stuck her ass in a freezing pond? Had he forced her to stay in there for long periods of time?

  If so, she had to be tough to survive that.

  Also, she must have some level of power for him to be in any discussion of a partnership with her when he already had a deal with Queen Maeve.

  Wait a minute. This might be a new partnership, which Tristan would bet Queen Maeve knew nothing about.

  Hot Chick still stood there, arms now across her chest, glare in place, and mouth shut in a flat line.

  Cathbad must want whatever it was he expected her to deliver bad. Instead of zapping her in some way, he released a long sigh. “Let us try a truce again. I will keep ya involved and consider your ideas if ya will cease attackin’ me, Brynhild.”

  She shrugged. “I will not attack if you give me no reason to do so.”

  Cathbad had not managed to intimidate this woman, but Tristan doubted that she could outmaneuver the druid. He’d seen Cathbad in action. That druid managed to keep Queen Maeve on her toes and had clearly started a second enterprise without her.

  Impressive.

  If only Tristan could tell Daegan about this.

  Brynhild acted as if she had something to hold over Cathbad.

  Did she know about Queen Maeve?

  If she did, this Brynhild would be wise to consider how Cathbad currently betrayed Queen Maeve in some way by being here with her.

  What a strange name. This woman’s manner of speech niggled at the back of Tristan’s mind, trying to tell him it mattered.

  Cathbad continued walking back and forth, pacing in front of the tall female warrior. “I will accept that weak admission as you agreein’ to the truce. Gettin’ back to the plan, I delivered a book to that Luigsech woman. She is to read a passage to me when she returns to the ancestral centre. If she can indeed translate that passage, she can very likely read anythin’. And that would lead me to believe she had not gained that skill through study at a human university. She possesses power. I felt it, but ’tis not what makes her special. I’ve never met someone who could translate all of the ancient languages.”

  Brynhild waved a hand in the air. “How is that important to me?”

  The scathing look Cathbad gave her indicated this tense conversation happened every time those two got together. Then why in the hell would that powerful druid choose this woman as a partner at all?

  More than that, what was Cathbad up to with her?

  Tristan’s arms screamed in agony. He tried to move his foot a tiny bit to find a place to push up and relieve the strain. Not happening.

  Speaking as if to a slow student, Cathbad explained, “That woman’s ability to translate text even I am unable to decipher will mean a great deal to both of us, Brynhild. If Luigsech has that level of skill, or more likely a supernatural gift, she can translate the grimoire volumes. You can’t. I might be able to do so, but it would require time. If she can do what I think, she can find the volumes and translate each one on the spot.”

  “What will this grimoire do for ... us?” For the first time since Tristan regained consciousness, Brynhild sounded genuinely interested.

  “That is the correct question.” Cathbad’s tone changed to a complimentary one. “The grimoire was broken into three volumes and given to three families to hide.”

  She cocked her head as if trying to understand his words. “I never heard of such book.”

  “’Tis no surprise. Breakin’ up the grimoire happened long before ya were born. Once we have all three volumes, we will hold control of the formulas and spells. That shall be the point where we can force Daegan to do anythin’ we want.”

  Well, fuck. Yet another plan to screw with Daegan. Cathbad had pretended to work with VIPER and Daegan to keep peace when Queen Maeve helped a deadly witch escape VIPER. Without Cathbad’s intervention and willingness to hand over Phoedra
, Daegan and the Tribunal would have unleashed an apocalypse on TÅμr Medb.

  “You know what I want.” Brynhild spat the words at the druid.

  Cathbad flicked his hand as if to brush them away. He clearly did not see her as a threat.

  Tristan had to get back to Daegan and tell him what he’d learned here. That wouldn’t happen unless he escaped.

  Not an outlook he’d bet heavily on right now.

  He noticed the silence first and peeked through his lashes again to see what had changed.

  Brynhild slowly turned to face Tristan.

  Her seductive eyes outlined in black carried a deadly warning with each blink. Man, that woman was as smokin’ hot as they came, but everything about her said she would be a deadly mistake for any man, human, or otherwise.

  Where did Cathbad find that level of crazy women?

  The druid also turned to Tristan.

  Since they now knew he was awake, Tristan called out, “You practicing witchcraft now, Cathbad?”

  The druid lifted a stick he’d been holding at his side.

  Tristan recognized the four-foot-long club Cathbad had used to knock him out. The stick appeared to be dense hardwood, like hickory, and had three claws at one end.

  Yellow glowing claws.

  Ah, shit. That had Imortik written all over it.

  Lifting an eyebrow in amusement, Cathbad started toward him. “Witchcraft? Why would ya think I need a lower form of majik than my own?”

  “Because of that stick. What is it?”

  Smiling, the druid lifted the claw-stick and gave it an admiring once over. “Ah, yes. I made this after findin’ an Imortik runnin’ around Atlanta. ’Tis a useful tool for capturin’ beins’. A demon. A gryphon. A dragon. Anythin’ really. This stick, as ya call it, has more than one use, but capturin’ nonhumans is a good one. Worked perfectly for takin’ ya down.”

  Yep, Tristan still recalled the excruciating pain of being struck by something sharp that cut him off midstream while calling telepathically to Daegan. His body had vibrated with incredible pain. He could still feel the aftermath of that attack.

  But he would show no weakness to this pair of wackos.

  Lifting his gaze to meet Tristan’s, Cathbad walked toward the wall where Tristan hung fifteen feet off the ground.

  Energy pulsed through the straps, which probably created the barrier preventing him from teleporting or using telepathic communication.

  It also muffled his gryphon.

  He needed his gryphon’s power for healing as much as for strength. Maybe Cathbad would ask him to shift.

  He’d love that.

  Because the next time Tristan let his beast out, any threat in his gryphon’s path wouldn’t have a chance to scream before he slaughtered it.

  As Cathbad neared, Tristan went for casual conversation. “Why did you capture me?”

  “I had not planned to do so actually,” Cathbad admitted. “But once I sensed someone followin’ me, I set the trap and ya walked into it. I never waste a gift. Ya can be useful.”

  Tristan didn't pop off in response, but the battle to hold his tongue still was close. He kept pushing for information, anything he could squeeze out of this pair. Going for sarcasm, he pointed out, “I’m thinking you want to use my gryphon to do something, right? I can’t be much use if you’re gonna keep me tied up, causing my muscles to atrophy.” He doubted Cathbad would send him to Queen Maeve since Tristan would bet she knew nothing of the partnership underway in this cave.

  “Do ya recall Ossian?” Cathbad asked softly with an underlying tease of threat.

  Tristan’s skin crawled at remembering the only time he saw that creep. He’d watched Ossian’s body lose control as he died, shifting through a mix of different identities, including some Beladors the polymorph had impersonated.

  Disgust rolled through him, but he had to keep his emotions locked down. Affecting a bland expression, Tristan tried to shrug. Failed. Hard to manage lifting a shoulder when hanging from his wrists. “Ossian? That little pipsqueak? Sure. What about him?”

  Brynhild had stood back listening to the exchange, but now walked over to stand next to Cathbad. “Who is this Ossian?”

  Infusing his voice with charm, Cathbad explained, “He was what is known as a polymorph. He could shift into the livin’ image of another human form, includin’ nonhuman beins’. I created him from a warlock.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Brynhild said, “Does not sound good.”

  Cathbad kept his attention on Tristan as he continued filling in his partner. “Oh, but he was special. I poured a tremendous amount of power into him until he could alter into any form at any time. He was one of my greatest works of art in many a century.”

  Tristan brought reality to the conversation. “I’m not so sure about how powerful Ossian was. Whatever that witch Veronika did to him caused a major malfunction. I watched when he took his last breath. Looked like a wind-up toy coming apart.”

  Cathbad’s humor soured. “Queen Maeve holds all fault for his demise. She sent him on a mission without my approval.” Cutting his gaze to Brynhild, Cathbad said, “I do not mourn the loss of anyone, but I will never forgive what Queen Maeve cost me.”

  Ah, now Tristan understood what had caused a crack in Cathbad and Queen Maeve’s union.

  He just did not know how deep that fracture ran.

  Under Queen Maeve’s direction, Ossian helped Veronika escape a warded prison cell beneath the mountain VIPER used as their headquarters. Cathbad had agreed to work with Daegan and the Tribunal deities to prevent Veronika from destroying everything in her path.

  No one had understood how she escaped until seeing Ossian lose his shit when his body freaked out. Like many others, Tristan had thought Cathbad agreed to return Phoedra, who he’d captured, in exchange for the Tribunal powers not going after Queen Maeve for her part in the deadly jailbreak.

  Based on what Tristan had learned here, Cathbad had only wanted to appease everyone at the time to prevent anyone from disrupting other plans he had in place.

  In fact, Tristan couldn’t see a good outcome for Queen Maeve in all this.

  Cathbad would not mourn her loss, if he could pull it off, but then neither would Tristan.

  “I did at first think to barter with Daegan for your return,” Cathbad said, jerking Tristan into the present again.

  That sounded as if Cathbad had not sent any word to Daegan, who had no way of knowing Cathbad was Cavan. If Tristan had failed to finish that telepathic call and inform Daegan of Cavan’s true identity, no one had a clue where he was.

  His stomach twisted the more he realized he held little value to Cathbad. If that ended up being the case, Cathbad could keep him here forever.

  His gaze shot to the frozen pond.

  Would his gryphon survive being imprisoned in there?

  Cathbad turned his head, looking in the same direction as Tristan, then swung around laughing. “I will not throw ya in the pond unless ya give me trouble.”

  Tristan had to admit that gave him a small amount of relief, but only for the moment. His middle name was trouble when anyone trapped him.

  Brynhild slid a look of disgust at Cathbad, who evidently had no issue with putting her in the pond.

  She should have thought twice about getting involved with Cathbad. Tristan had little sympathy for anyone in bed with that druid voluntarily.

  He sure as hell had not come here of his own free will.

  “No, no, no,” Cathbad said, still chuckling as if he found Tristan’s worry amusing. The prick.

  Cathbad turned serious. “I am seein’ the benefit of havin’ an Alterant.”

  “In what way?” Tristan asked dryly. “Not like I can fly around with my arms and legs pinned.”

  The druid spoke in a hushed voice, rapt with excitement, and moved his hands as he worked to paint a visual for everyone. “Just think of the powerful polymorph I could create. One far greater than Ossian. I see a polymorph that could shift into a dragon
form and enter Treoir realm once I compel it.” He paused and turned his crazed gaze on Tristan. “Ah, yes, ya have so much more potential. ’Tis a very painful process,” he warned then his grin widened. “But that does make it all the better for me.”

  Tristan’s throat tightened. He struggled to breathe. He hadn’t felt terror in a long time, but his heart dropped like a silver dollar tossed in a shallow fountain.

  If Cathbad turned him into a polymorph, Tristan could be compelled to destroy everything and everyone that mattered to him.

  He’d become Daegan’s greatest nightmare and would die at the hands of the man who had given him back his life.

  Chapter 6

  Casidhe wriggled her way through the dark tunnel leading from a massive hollow tree, which shielded the outdoor entrance to this secret route. Soon, she’d reach the hidden doorway inside the ancestral research centre.

  Good thing. Her legs and arms were spent from tonight’s cross-country race to find Fenella.

  She’d used this path when she had snuck out of the research centre covertly to visit Herrick only days ago. The hunched-over speed-walk seemed twice as long today. Carved and reinforced hundreds of years ago, this location had been shared only with Herrick’s squire families.

  Fenella had never wanted to take the route, claiming her back couldn’t handle it, but she may have to now.

  Casidhe’s fingers cramped from still clutching Lann an Cheartais like a lifeline, but for now this weapon was her sole support team.

  She’d love to have her backpack with the sheath for carrying her sword. Under normal circumstances when she didn’t have to carry this weapon while jogging for miles, the sword weighed little and had excellent balance.

  But even holding a butter knife for hours would eventually become tiresome.

  Adrenaline had run out long ago, leaving her to function on anxiety alone.

  She stumbled in the tunnel and slapped a hand against the rough-cut stone wall to catch her balance. Her damp shirt clung to her and her jeans sagged from the fog that had soaked the denim. She dragged in one long breath after another, which should have refreshed her.