by Lora Leigh
“Lie!”
Astra had to fight not to sob in agony, yet still the tears fell upon her cheeks like the rains oft fell about the great castle she resided as her chest tightened with a steady, fiery ache within her heart.
“You have made me a traitor,” she whispered. “My bond with you would allow nothing less than to give all I am to protect you. Because of you I have betrayed my people, their trust in me, and the lives my ancestors gave to free all Sorceresses from the machinations of Wizards such as you. Because of you, I betray even the land whose power I was to command,” she sobbed, her breath heaving, her voice thick and heavy with the truth of her betrayals.
“You have betrayed no one. Nothing,” Rhydan snarled, the dark blue of his eyes gleaming with an inner fury.
“Because you say it is so?” she cried, her voice hoarse. “What do I say then, my fine Consorts, when your Wizards learn of my deceit? What say they when it is learned I knew where you hid? Aye, even did I aid you when their command was to turn you over to their Justices? What say they when it is learned I did betray those commands? That I betrayed them and their Consortress? They demanded your immediate arrest for the practice of dark magick and the abduction of my queen and her heir and still I turned my back upon them.”
Because of them, even now, Queen Amoria and her heir could be facing death. Astra could not believe she had betrayed her aunt and her cousin in such a way, let alone her queen and the heir to the throne of Covenan.
“No, Astra, such is not true.” Rhydan struggled to move to her, to leave the bed she had fashioned with such care. She could feel his pain as well as her own, feel his certainty that he knew better than she.
“Aye, such is true indeed,” she cried out. “For you I have betrayed even myself for Wizards who could not care so much as to even acknowledge their Consortress when they knew her for who and what she was to them.”
With the pain tearing at her, ripping through her, Astra ran from them then.
From them, as well as herself.
But she wondered as she raced from the cavern to the mighty Unicorn awaiting her beyond…
What did she have to run to?
Chapter Five
Torran stared at the ceiling of the cavern, glaring at the roughened stone and the flickering shadows of light cast by the candles his Astra had left burning for them.
What foul magick had dared to do as she claimed he and his brother Rhydan had done? What dark art could steal a queen and a princess from beneath the nose of the powerful Wizard who watched over them in dragon form?
Surely only the gods themselves were so powerful?
As the questions worked through his mind like sharpened spikes of deadly truth, the shift of movement against the shadows on the ceiling had him lowering his gaze once more.
There, moving carefully into the deepest reaches of the cavern, were the powerful forms of the two huge male Griffons.
They knew him.
He had found their valley well before the Wizards had flown into the Sellane Castle courtyards several months ago to begin courting their princesses.
He had fought with the great Griffons, Mustafa and Malosa. He had brought the proud Griffoness, mother to the babes, the special sweet it was written in the Wizard books of history the Griffons so adored.
A mix of honey from the feral bees, the pinon nut and sweetened lark cow milk. He had come prepared to gain their trust, as the Veressi had warned him to do. The Griffons were the most treasured of creatures to the proud Sorceress and Keeper of the Mystic Forests of the Power, Astra Al’madere, as well as the Guardian of the Lands of Covenan, the Princess Marina Sellane.
The Guardian of the Lands drew together the separate powers of the land of Covenan, just as the Guardians of the Lands of Cauldaran drew together the powers of the Wizards’ lands.
Except in Covenan, unlike Cauldaran, the Keepers ruled the land they watched over as well, and their heirs, usually the eldest daughter, were sent to the ruling house of Covenan to train beneath the Guardian of the Lands until the time came for her to return to her lands and watch over the powers there. That time was usually decided by the powers of the land itself.
When the current Keeper reached the Reigning Age the land would begin to rumble, the extreme power that resided within it would begin quaking beneath it, and it was then the heir would be called home to take the throne.
Over the years it was suspected the center of a Sorceress’ power became weaker, reducing her ability to channel and control the magick that flowed through the land.
It was said that the magick of the Mystic Forests, of which Astra was the heir, had been vibrating with the beginning rumbles of magick too long uncontrolled.
He and Rhydan had been sent to Covenan to find the Guardian of the Land, and then to lay claim to their natural Consortress. Raize and Ruine Veressi, Guardians of the Lands and the Powers of Cauldaran, had urged them to find the Griffons first, to ensure the proud beasts’ loyalty to them, before entering the ruling lands of Covenan. And now they knew why. Their natural Consortress was a favorite to the Griffons. They called out to her often for attention, and he knew, once she took her throne in the Mystic Forests, several of the younger beasts would do what none other had done since reuniting with the Sorceress. They would follow her to the great mountain fortress she commanded as her protectors.
The oldest of the two male Griffons approached him on silent feet, his great wings folded at his back, his head tilted curiously to the side as he watched the babes as they lay between him and Rhydan.
The youngest of these two would be one that would follow her.
Moving in behind the two great males came the regal Griffoness. Her expression was one of such concern that sympathy tightened his chest.
She was there for her babes.
Even the half-grown male that lay sleeping so soundly would be given to suck this day, though he had been weaned for several years. Such weakness was detrimental to the pride. She would want him strengthened soon.
“It was not the fault of Wizard magick,” he assured Mustafa solemnly as the huge male tilted his head and watched him questioningly. “This dark magic is not ours.”
The Griffon snorted with an air of male irritation and uncertainty before glancing back at his mate, the lioness Mandalee.
That they understood his words, Torran had no doubt. The great Griffons were by far more powerful than even the Sorceresses suspected. Once, long ago, Rhydan and Torran’s ancestors had been the caretakers and breeders of the great Griffons. What they had learned was that as the Griffons grew in age, power and wisdom, they would gain the ability to not just understand but also to speak to those they eventually bonded to. Those Griffons that had perished as the Sorceresses escaped a millennium before had possessed such gifts, but had revealed them only to the Sorceresses they protected.
Even the Wizard Consorts to those Sorceresses had been unable to convince the great beasts to speak to them. Their instinctive magick had sensed the unnatural pairings that had been made and refused to speak to any but those males who had accepted their natural Consortresses.
By then though, there had been no such thing. There had been no Wizard Twins recorded as having given in to a natural Joining rather than one obtained by forced alignment.
Turning back, Mustafa, followed by Malosa, moved to the pallet of furs Astra had made for them. Reaching the pallet, he bent his big head to nudge the cub Tambor back to his stomach before picking the babe up in the fierce, sharpened grip of teeth far larger than Torran found comfort in.
As he moved back, Malosa moved into place and nudged at Candalar to force him awake.
The weakened cub mewled in protest before the lioness snarled at him in warning, the rumble of the motherly summons causing Torran’s lips to quirk in amusement.
Torran almost grinned as the immature male roused himself drowsily, too large for Mustafa or Malosa to carry by the nape, but still young enough to need care.
With an irri
tated little flap of his wings, Candalar forced himself to stand, his heavy limbs shuddering for a moment with weakness before he stepped from the pallet and padded to where the adults awaited him.
“Such babes should have never been attacked,” Rhydan said weakly from where he lay, his tone throbbing with the anger they had both felt at the sight of the broken statues, which had once been living, breathing Griffons.
“Raize and Ruine are correct. Those who would protect the Sorceresses as these Griffons would are fair game for whatever dark source has visited this place. The spell we have placed on them to block such magick from making them defenseless once again will need to be strengthened.”
They had worked to return those instincts to the Griffons, aiding the Sorceresses’ teachings each time they visited the Griffons but also laying a shield of invisible magick at their underbellies to aid them should they need to fly.
Unfortunately, they had been unable to strengthen the babes in such a way, for they had been too young to accept such infusions of magick. Torran hadn’t worried though, believing such little ones would not need it, as they were unable to fly.
“And we are to find this dark magick now, how?” Rhydan questioned him, the anger still throbbing in his voice. “We are considered villains in this land, Torran. The farce we began here to reveal the darkness plaguing it has now turned to take a bite of our rears.”
Torran watched as his Twin struggled to sit up, the weakness that assailed him from the amount of magick expended to save the Griffons taking a toll physically as well as magickally.
This situation was one they had not foreseen. Their own warriors had betrayed them all, then, just before ending their own lives, those Wizards had made it appear their commanders, Torran and Rhydan, had given the order to strike the Princess Serena.
They were now being hunted as the most vile of creatures, that of dark Wizards.
“We must leave this place,” Rhydan breathed out roughly. “Take our Consortress and—”
Torran laughed weakly. “Take our Consortress? Brother, what say you? She would cut our heads from our bodies with the slightest provocation at this moment. Take her? That was never our plan. Our place is now by her side, our responsibilities that of strengthening her power as well as the power of the land she will command.”
“It was never our plan to be considered dark Wizards either,” Rhydan pointed out with rueful sarcasm. “What choice do we have but to lose our lives, or do we leave her instead? Here? Without us?”
“I will not leave my Consortress,” Torran informed him coldly.
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before we allowed ourselves to be drawn into this farce,” Rhydan snarled, weak though he was, a measure of strength entering his tone from the force of his fury. “Bedamned Guardians have placed us in a hell of a position, Torran, and we haven’t even our lands to return to. Our Sentinel Warriors are now in the custody of the Sashtain Twins and declared suspects in our supposed crimes until our Justices can arrive to seer their innocence or their guilt and there’s a bedamned death warrant on our heads.”
Justices were known well for their talents in Seering. The ability to look into any individual and to see, or “seer” the truths or deceptions within them.
“Our warriors will be free soon.” Torran placed his forearm over his eyes, allowing himself to sink into a place where the light of the candles did not pierce his brain like daggers sharpened by a Wizard’s stone.
Never had he known of a time that his magick had been drained to such a point, but then, never before had he tested the healing magick within him to such a point. Repairing the broken stone, piece by piece by speck of dust until the young Griffons were repaired, then reversing the spell of stone, had been no easy task.
It had taken hours upon hours, more than they had been able to keep track of. Hell, Torran could not even remember that moment when he knew the spell had been reversed and the Griffons were once again whole.
“Brother, our warriors can fend for themselves against the Justices, we ensured it. Such is not the case for us. Should we be questioned then our plan, as well as that of our Guardians of Cauldaran, will be revealed to Justices who have already had one traitor in their midst. This we cannot risk. We take our Consortress, Torran, and we depart this place. Our Owls await—”
A flare of light flashed before them, blinding and intense, the colors of the rainbows mixed and hued with bloody rage and killing fury.
“Dare to take another Sorceress from this land, do you! I think not!” The serrated voice of Shadow Hell echoed through the cavern and sent a chill of trepidation racing up their spines.
To say they were now facing death was perhaps an understatement. There was no magick left to defend themselves. There was no sword close enough even should their magick miraculously appear.
Rhydan nudged at his brother only to hear the wearied sigh that slipped past Torran’s lips. “Aye, I feel his rage licking at my flesh, brother. I prefer not to face my death if you do not mind. I much prefer to die as blind as I am weak.”
Garron, the Sentinel Dragon, paced closer, steam rising from his nostrils, his black eyes reflecting his inner rage in pinpoints of bloodied red as Torran dared to glance through the veil of his lashes.
He was easily eight feet tall or better, his scales leathery and appearing to flicker with steam and flames. Rhydan near shuddered at the thought of the agony this dragon could inflict before he allowed them to die.
“The Queen Amoria and her child, heir to the throne of Sellane.” His voice was like an echo from Shadow Hell reaching from the deep to rumble about the stone walls of the cavern. “I would know now where they are held.”
Torran lowered his arm. “How I prayed to the gods that somehow Astra was wrong and they had not been taken.” He could feel the sadness, the aching regret that settled in his soul at the knowledge of the two revered Sorceresses’ possible fate. Had dark magick taken them, then they would never return as they were before they were taken. “This was not by our hand, dragon. At no time did we reach out to harm those of this land.”
Steam hissed from nostrils that flared in rage and disbelief. “Say you this when two of your own warriors were there when she was attacked, prior to her kidnapping? When the Secular’s blade found her vulnerable flesh and pierced it?” the dragon snapped, huge teeth, sharp and foreboding making a sound that near had him flinching in fear that threatened to unman him.
Even Wizards knew the power of such a being whose magick was enough that they could call upon this fierce form and maintain it with such consistent power.
“Was not by our order, dragon.” Torran didn’t bother to sit up. He’d prefer—should he die undefended, as weak or perhaps weaker than the Griffon babe that had slept so close—to show his contempt at his demise by remaining just where he lay.
Apparently relaxed and without fear.
But that didn’t stop his flinch as flames expelled from the dragon’s mouth, washing over their heads with a heat that kissed their flesh even from that bit of distance.
What manner of magick was this dragon that he could call even the flames of Shadow Hell to do his bidding?
“I was tasked to protect this ruling house.” The dragon paced closer, his rage causing the scales that layered his body to rustle, to slide against each other as the magick appeared to gather just beneath them. “Some being has taken her from me, Wizard, and I would know the part you play in this.”
“Nay, we played no part in this, Garron.” Rhydan lifted his hands in denial of the accusation. “We would not have taken your queen, nor your princess, and we would have never allowed any other to do so if we had known of it.”
Garron’s nostrils flared again before a dragony smile of such enraged contempt curved his leathery lips. “You allowed many to believe you were here to conquer this land,” he suggested with whispery threads of magick rasping his tone. “You chose to have others believe you intended to Join with the Guardian of these lands
, the Princess Marina. This was an untruth, was it not, Wizards? You knew all along who your Consortress was.”
They felt it then, too late to slam their shields down to protect their innermost thoughts with a magick too weak to aid them at the moment anyway.
Torran closed his eyes and placed his forearm over them once again with a snarl of fury as Rhydan cursed the dragon. Because there was nothing they could do to stop the invasion, no way to counter the magick that slipped through their minds.
When it was over, Torran lowered his arm and stared up at the cavernous ceiling, gaze narrowed, his awareness of his brother’s curses still drifting through his senses.
“Leave off the curses you call down from your bedamned Sentinel Select.” Garron’s blasphemy had them both staring at him in surprise now.
The mockery that filled the dragon was far less threatening now, but the superiority was enough to make Torran wish the dragon had just turned them into baked Wizards rather than mere weakened ones.
“Your Guardians of the Lands are no less conniving than their ancestors were,” Garron sighed as he crossed his massive arms—forelegs? Torran wasn’t certain which—over his chest and regarded them with eyes that glittered no less with that blood-red hue of death and rage.
“What mean you, dragon?” It was Rhydan who dared to voice the question with a growl of anger.
“What mean I?” The smile that curled about the dragon’s lips was one of sarcasm and certain knowledge. “I mean, my erstwhile Wizards, that it was the Veressi who caused the Sorceresses to run across ice-capped mountains and fiery lakes to escape the Wizards a millennium ago. And now they send you to near certain death at this time in their efforts to once again steal the freedoms of women whose strength and purity of heart will always outshine their less-than-pure, much-too-darkened magicks.”
