by Morgan Blade
Cad was in his element, not a drop of sweat creeping down his face. With a smile, he drew his broadsword and tossed the sheath to the Autumn Lord for safekeeping. “This shouldn’t take long.”
He gripped the sword in both hands, extending the blade toward Colt, and stood with his weight equally distributed between both feet.
Colt held up a palm. “You realize that a dragon’s fire isn’t magic, but nature ability, right?”
Cad looked over at Lord Maxon.
The Autumn King nodded confirmation.
Cad looked back at Colt and shrugged. “Use all the fire you want. I am the Summer King. Just remember, you are not allowed to turn dragon. You must keep to human form.”
Colt nodded. “I have no problem with that, but I don’t like your wardrobe.”
Cad suddenly looked ill-tempered. “What is wrong with my attire?”
Colt drew a deep breath and exhaled a cone of yellow-orange fire. Parted by the broadsword, the flames went on to flutter around Cad’s chainmail.
Watching from the edge of the ring, I counted to five and then the fire breath cut off. Cad’s clothes were burned off. His golden chainmail sagged to the ground, dripping off his legs. A molten clot settled between his spread feet. Cad stood in boots alone, looking down at himself. Female tittering went through the crowd at this development.
Colt shook his head sadly. “They don’t make protective spells like they used to.”
On my shoulder, Silverwynd laughed. “Colt has your smart-ass mouth.”
“Uh-huh. And he made the point about dragon fire so there’d no dispute later when he uses dragon lightning.”
“Smart,” Silverwynd said.
“He gets that from me, too,” I said.
Silverwynd made a non-committal sound.
Cad snorted. “If that’s the best you can do, you are in trouble, lad.”
Colt glared. “Make your move.”
Cad leaped with a burst of speed, wrapping himself in waves of heat that distorted his image. He was more a flickering flame than a fey warrior.
I had the dragon vision to follow what happened next. I think most of the observers just missed out. Colt’s hunting knife redirected the sword which he sheered off with his demon sword. He also snapped a kick into Cad’s face.
Cad stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on the superheated gravel. Half his face had a red imprint from the kick. He looked at the stump of his severed sword and threw it away in disgust.
Colt balanced on one leg, his other foot in the air, his head dipped low. He looked capable of holding such a pose forever; there wasn’t the lightest tremor in his body.
Show off.
Colt relaxed, flowing back into a casual standing posture.
“What the hell was that!” Silverwynd demanded.
I answered, keeping my eyes on the firepit. “A Wing Chun Kung-Fu deflection with the knife, a wild-ass shear with the demon sword, and the last move probably came from a Bruce Lee movie.”
“Brews Lea?” Silverwynd asked.
I sighed. “Never mind. I forget you fey are culturally deprived.”
“He did all that in the same second. That’s fast,” she said.
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t seen fast yet.”
Colt extended his knife hand and wiggled the blade, a suggestion that Cad might want to get up off his ass.
The Autumn King stood on his edge of the fire pit, his scythe-shaped sword pointing at his ally. He wiggled the sword so its tip repeated Colt’s get-up gesture. “Rise man, you’ve a job to do. Sit on your ass later.” Mason made a show of fumbling his sword hit. It fell from his hand, out onto the heated gravel, sticking point first. “Oh, my! It just fell out my hand.” He admitted the obvious, his eyes wide with too much surprise.
Yeah right. Rearming your friend. Just an accident.
“He did that on purpose!” Silverwynd shrieked.
I tilted my head away from her. “Not into my ear, please.”
Colt smiled at Cad. “No, it’s alright. Go ahead. Pick it up.”
“If you insist.” The Summer King stepped out in an extended crouch, pivoting on the foot closest to the weapon so his back was exposed to Colt while he snatched the hilt.
Watching closely, I saw Cad’s extended posture dropped his free hand to scratch the gravel near his foot. He continued the pivot, coming full circle. His free hand snapped up and a fistful of molten gold was lobbed into Colt’s face.
I stopped breathing. My heart pounded. I had to clench my muscles, forcing myself to stay where I was. Colt could handle this.
He’s my son.
He made a short spin of his own, catching the molten gold splatter on the side of his head, keeping it out of his eyes. His demon sword’s tip scraped the gravel and slashed up into the air in a wild swing.
The summer King ducked under the black blade with its infernal red glow, and swept the scythe-sword into Colt’s ribs.
Colt’s thrown katana blurred with a speed only the dragon-born can generate. The black steel imbedded itself in Maxon’s torso. The autumn Kings went wide with shock and pain. He screamed—a sound ragged and heartfelt—as the energy of the blade ate his soul, and dragged him forward so he tumbled dead into the firepit. The sword’s work done, it vanished back into the either until the next time it was summoned.
“Oops!” Colt muttered. “It just jumped right out my hand.”
As liquid gold harmlessly bled down the side of his head, he turned red-copper eyes to Cad. The two were almost nose-to-nose. Cad gripped the scythe-blade’s hilt with both hands, still muscling it into Colt’s body. The place the sword bit was exactly where younger Colt had shown us his new scar earlier.
Same scar, different Colt.
The fey lord frowned at how difficult it was to cut into Colt’s flesh and bone. “Body armor,” Cad asked, “or are you using magic after all to save your life?”
“No magic. We dragon-born are just tough sons of bitches.” Colt lay his empty hand lightly against Cad’s chest. The red-copper glow of his eyes flared brighter. “Time to die.”
Raw strands of lightning crawled over Colt’s body. The jags were thick as his wrist: blinding, crawling snakes that pounced on the Summer King, burrowing into his naked body, blowing away chunks of burnt meat, lifting him off his feet, into a high arc that dropped him onto the central pile of coals so his corpse could get a proper roast.
Half blinded by the lightning flashes, most of the spectators flinched away from the edge of the firepit, ducking low as if they expected the red-copper lightning to come chasing after them next. Only the Oracle gave no reaction, and not because she was blind. She knew she was safe, or she’d have chosen someplace else to stand.
Queens Kellyn and Syrah had reflexively lifted their hands. A barrier of shadow and a wall of ice had formed, spreading protectively left and right, but the precautions weren’t necessary.
I jumped down into the pit, having nothing to worry about from lighting. Grounding out, Colt’s bolts blasted into the gravel, creating craters, spraying loose rock that rattled off of ice and shadow. Reaching my son, I braced him, easing the scythe-blade out of his side. His side was wet with blood. I tossed the sword aside, hearing it clatter.
“I guess you did like that new scar. “You did nothing to avoid it,” I said.
“It will buy me a lot of sympathy with the girls. They really get worked up over stuff like this. Uh, you can let go now. I can stand.”
“Shut up. You’re my son. I can take care of you if I want to.”
Sweating, Aleys ran to us, deftly avoiding the potholes in the gravel, keeping clear of the coals. It couldn’t be comfortable for her, even though her mana level was higher than fey no of the Phoenix Court. She was probably more resistant to illness, and could regenerate her wounds. Only the really ancient—like her father—failed from physical stresses.
She shouldered me aside and pressed a bunched-up scarf into his side. I could have told her it had alrea
dy stopped bleeding, but she didn’t ask.
Colt made a show of leaning on her for support. “Thanks,” he rasped. They hobbled off to the wall. Colt turned back to look at me. “Old Man?”
“Yeah?”
“Just because I hate your guts doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”
I nodded. “I know. Why should you be less complicated than me?”
There was a double peel of mission bells, an arbitrary phantom sound from high over the keep. This would travel across Fairy to announce the deaths of lords in the Land, and would galvanize the remaining fey royalty to gather their armies. I didn’t know why that sound had been chosen by the Land for such a purpose. A flurry of trumpet notes would have done served the same purpose.
There was a copper-red flash of light and Big Colt became Little Colt. He grabbed his discarded shirt. It was scaled down for him now. Colt looked down at his perfect, unscarred side. No scar. His face reflected disappointment. “Guess I’ll have to wait a few years to get it back.” He pulled his shirt back on and looked up at Aleys. “Hey can you boost me up?”
She shook off his transformation, adjusting quickly. Fey are used to magic and illusion mixing freely with reality so that they all seem the same thing sometimes. Without a word, she gathered him under the armpits, picked him up, and seated him on the edge of the wall.
She pointed a demanding finger at his face. “You’d better not forget your promise. I expect you to keep my unwanted suitors at bay.”
Her brother came up to me. “Lord Deathwalker. I believe I owe you an oath of fealty.”
“That, or a sister,” I said.
He gave a huff of a laugh. “The oath will be a lot easier for me to manage. Once my father has finished dying, I will give you what you ask as the new king of the Phoenix Court.”
I smiled like a shark. “You’d better.”
The threat was just to keep in practice. I knew he’d keep his word. To break a promise is to lie, and a lie costs a fey their magic. He’d die first.
SEVENTEEN
“Another day, another target.”
—Caine Deathwalker
I stood with the guards on the cold, stone battlements, looking over the notched wall at the retreating armies. They’d come to recover the status quo and were leaving with their dead and a better future than they would have actually had by winning. In time, they might see and understand my generosity.
Aleys chose to remain with us. She seemed to be nursing a grudge against her brother for treating her like a piece of meat to be bartered away. How her brother was going to explain this to their dad, I didn’t know. Though, if the ill lord died without Aleys being in the land, her brother had a clear path to power.
Maybe that’s her purpose; not to rule, but to have a shadow of illegitimacy hanging over his rule forever.
I had the feeling that I didn’t want Aleys as an enemy. Her thoughts went deep, her vengeance a shrewd knife. Subtleness always gives me trouble, unless it’s my own brand.
I lifted my gaze to the clouds. The cover had broken up a little, exposing a strip of black velvet sky jeweled with electric-blue stars. My thoughts drifted toward the challenges ahead. I was half-way home. Before I could turn my machinations to the Wildlands, I had four enemies to go: The Nightmare, Phantom, Bone, and Thorn Courts. The question was: who do I take on next? The choice was obvious.
Nightmare Court.
I’d fled them once on the astral plains, and had literally nuked them with my imagination, with a modern Earth horror they’d never conceived of. If I were lucky, they were still too twitchy of me to put up a good fight. There’s nothing like a confirmed reputation for massive overkill to make people wary of triggering you.
Perhaps, I should get some specialized help on this one. Who do I know that’s scary as fuck? Ah, yes!
I looked around at the boys on watch. “Uh, guys, I’ve got a friend portaling in, sorta, so try not to overreact. The Red Lady Selene is dangerous even when not pissed off.”
“The Red Lady? Goddess of the Red Moon?” the Captain of the Guard asked.
I smiled at him. “Why, yes. You’ve heard of her?”
“She’s a just a legend, right?”
They hoped so. They prayed so. Here in Fairy, ages ago, Selene had fought the Wild Hunt across most of their kingdoms, leaving death and devastation to scar the lands. At the end of the grueling battle, the survivors had begged for mercy. Since then, they’d spent ages rebuilding their strength, growing their numbers again. Somehow, that ancient conflict had provided the catalyst for Selene the red dragon to ascend to goddesshood, leveling up to her current status. She’d never shared the details with me, but in the history of the fey, in their dictionaries, Ultimate Terror had her picture by it.
“I’d pull back if I were guys.”
They hurried to obey, giving me plenty of room.
I lifted my voice into the night. “Selene, honey, I need you.”
Laughter danced in the air like cherry blossoms. Red star-points spilled from overhead like an invasion of an alternate space. The fire-fall thickened, swirled, a condensing flurry. Inside that narrow storm, a female-shape appeared, a crimson shadow. The glow dimmed out with the star-points. Selene stood there in a gown the color of fresh-spilt blood. The Red Lady always lived up to her name. Her dark red hair draped her back. Her eyes were red-hot coals that hazed the air in front of her face with a bloody light.
There was a collective inhalation from the fey guards, fear and awe. Scared spitless, they said nothing to draw attention. I’d always heard you were supposed to whistle while going past cemeteries to show your courage.
No one’s whistling.
Her beauty always hit me like a brick in riot. She looked like an edgy prom date you dared not disappoint. Her lips were bright red and glossy, stretched into a too-wide smile that had a predatory quality. Her petite hands and slender arms were sheathed in red-leather gloves with red-chrome spikes at the knuckles. Her mighty breasts were red moons all on their own, moons I hungered to taste and fondle.
Seeing my heated gaze, she swept in and draped herself against me, her arms going over my shoulders, her lips capturing mine. In the back shadows of my mind, golden eyes opened, shining with welcome as my inner dragon stirred. Coils slithered, rustled, a sound only I heard. Her tongue invaded my mouth, demanding reply. I crushed her against me, my hunger leaping like a holocaust of lightning, fed by the royal dragon within me.
At last, she pulled back to stare into my eyes. Her smile collapsed, dead seriousness taking over her face. “I’ve missed you. All parts of you. You’ve been having fun without me. I can still smell them on you.”
“Yes, I have. That’s nothing new, but it has been in the line of duty.” Looking past her, I noticed the guards had withdrawn, seeking safety from some coming storm. “I’ve got five more ties to steal, beg, or barrow before I can claim all of Fairy. We’re going after the Nightmare Court next. You’re going to have to be scarier than ever before.”
“I suppose I might help you out—for a price.”
“Are you going to chain me to your bed again?”
“Oh, honey, that’s just a down payment. You’re also going to need me against the Wild Hunt. That is no small favor you’re asking. It is a new Wild Hunt than the one I fought and almost destroyed in past ages. These new riders are not glutted on arrogance. They will not blithely assume they are superior. Repeating history will not be easy for me.”
“Yeah, but you have me and Colt, too.”
“Where is my darling boy?”
“I left him with Aleys.”
“Aleys?”
“She’s a fey lady from the Phoenix Court. He says she’s going to be important in years to come.”
Selene’s eyes narrowed. “Then why don’t I know of her? I know all the women that will ever be important to him.”
I nodded. Yeah, you’re that obsessed.
My inner dragon said: A loving mother never gives up her children, not when s
he’s dragon-born.
It was time to cross-check the recent change introduced into Selene’s non-linear experience of time. “so, uh, what do you think of Colt’s new scar.”
Her eyes opened widely. “My baby’s been hurt? You let that happen!”
“Not nine-year-old Colt,” I said. “The older Colt that showed up today for the first time. He was seventeen, maybe eighteen. The one that hates my guts.”
Sympathy softened her face. She patted my Kevlar chest protector. “Your heart is hurting.”
I lied. “No. I’m a sociopath. A heartless bastard. I don’t feel pain.”
She kept patting my chest. “No, of course not. Wait!” Her fingers dug into the Kevlar, gouging deep. “What’s this about a new scar? Colt only has the one on his back that he got on the Dragon World.”
I arched an eyebrow and gently disengaged her fingers before they finished off my chest protector and pierced my chest. “Apparently there’s been a small shift in the timeline that you don’t know about.”
“Something I don’t know about?” She made it sound like utter heresy.
Pounding steps came from the turret that hid the spiral stairs. Nine-year-old Colt burst into view, Aleys only a few steps behind. She looked out of breath, all red in the face. Colt’s face radiated excitement, joy. A few feet off, he launched himself into the air, arms open. “Mom!”
She spun from me and caught him, wrapping him in a hug.
Aleys skidded to a stop, leaning forward, taking a moment to recover her breath. She still wore the white gown with blue ribbon, but had added a maroon cashmere cape with fox fur trim that I didn’t remember her coming to the keep with. I had a suspicion that Aleys was allowing Colt to buy her affection since his designs on her were far different from those the older Colt possessed. Young Colt probably thought it his idea.
Well, I had no problem with it. It wasn’t like Colt didn’t have power to burn. And I’d had him make the sheath and belt for my titanium katana. Who was I to throw stones.
Aleys straightened, taking in the reunion of Colt with his mother.
