Fire and Fantasy: a Limited Edition Collection of Epic and Urban Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  Something no elf would do.

  Daphne would. If the situation were reversed, you know she would.

  No, she could tell herself all day long what her sister would do in her stead. Ultimately, it was Caitlin’s choice, and she didn’t see any other.

  She glanced at the orc holding Agathon. “You, you’re a merc, right? In it for the money?”

  The big creature nodded.

  “Okay, Pierre, here’s my deal.”

  The smug human pointed at Daphne. “You don’t get to make deals. Hand over your necklace or your sister dies. That’s the deal.”

  “No, this is the deal goes two ways. I hand over my necklace, you free my sister and these two,” she pointed to Agathon and Wash.

  “Whatever, all I want is your immortality, what do I care what happens to them?”

  She looked back to the orc, “I’m accessing your link now. If, in twenty-four hours, Wash, Agathon and my sister are still alive—regardless of whether or not I am—you are a million dollars richer, understood?”

  The orc and his three companions eyes narrowed as they glanced at each other.

  “Duval, don’t listen to her. She’s an elf, you can’t trust her,” Pierre snarled, his smug façade slipping.

  “Can you beat that?” the orc asked.

  Pierre shot him a glare, never taking his hand off Daphne.

  “I didn’t think so.” The orc looked at Caitlin. “It isn’t enough to betray him… but as a new contract? Yeah. We agree.”

  Caitlin nodded, using her eyes she navigated her link and created a trust, putting all her money into it, to be paid to the orc in twenty-four hours.

  “Done,” she said. At least she had some certainty everyone would live. Wash would live.

  “Caitlin,” Wash said. “Don’t. We can—”

  She turned to see his face, those brown eyes that would look so plain to anyone else—but she saw the warmth in them.

  “Wash, I’m sorry. I wanted more time for us, but unless your spirit can somehow save the day…”

  Wash shook his head. “Whatever he did to Hetepheres drained him, I don’t even know if he’s still here.” He put his hand over his chest. She placed hers on top.

  “He is, but he’s deep down. His well is almost empty. No, Wash. I can’t fail my people. Even if it means my life.”

  Wash pulled her close and she didn’t resist as he pressed his lips to hers. It would be her last kiss. Her life to this point was forever before her and now… now it was gone. All she was. All she might have been.

  Gone.

  She closed her eyes and leaned into his kiss. She tried to put all her love and passion into a single moment. If she were to die, she wanted Wash to know how she felt. To live with the warmth of that memory.

  Caitlin broke the kiss, finally, and with reluctance. Pierre wouldn’t allow them much more time.

  “I love you,” he whispered in her ear before he let her go.

  The words were true if a bit rushed. They sang in her heart and she longed to return them. Instead, she ran one finger along his chin and smiled up at him.

  “Goodbye,” she said.

  Before she could lose her courage she turned and walked toward Pierre. Her silver necklace, scarcely noticeable before, suddenly felt like a hundred pounds as she pulled it off, over her head.

  “I hope you choke on it,” she spat, as she tossed it at his chest.

  He fumbled for the chain, the links sliding through his fingers. He caught the long necklace in both hands, dropping to his knees in the mud, and slid it over his head.

  Every ounce of strength in her vanished and Caitlin collapsed.

  “No!” Agathon shouted.

  Wash was there, then, cradling her in his arms his eyes on hers. Her power fled. The connection to her people vanished an in an instant.

  For all the loneliness she had ever felt… she hadn’t known what it was to be alone.

  And now she was.

  “Wash?”

  “I’m here, Cait, I’m here. Just hang on, okay?”

  “Wash, make sure… he frees her.”

  Anguish flooded through Wash, the grief too immense. It slid down his face in tears. He held Caitlin close, her green eyes fading even as he roared against the injustice.

  “Free her,” she whispered through dried lips. Her bronze skin turned ashen, cracking like old parchment.

  “Pierre, free her!” He roared at the man. If he couldn’t save Caitlin he would damn well make sure the man did as he promised.

  The mage’s eyes glowed with power as he played with forces in the air only he could see.

  “This is what it is like for them?” he marveled. He pointed his finger at Daphne, and light leaped between them.

  The dead look in Daphne’s eyes vanished, replaced by confusion. She held the dagger out in front of her as if it were a snake.

  Wash didn’t want Caitlin to die alone, even though he held her, he needed her to know he was with her. He grasped her increasingly brittle hand and gazed into her eyes.

  “She’s free Caitlin. I’m here for you.”

  Parched lips smiled up at him. His heart swelled, he would do anything for that smile to last forever.

  Hurrikan? Please help me! I beg you! He screamed in his own mind for the spirit.

  I am sorry, Thomas Washington, I have nothing left to give, the storm has passed.

  “So touching. Well, it’s time for me to go,” Pierre said, turning away.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Wash saw movement. He glanced up, a warning on his lips, but it was too late. Daphne walked briskly up behind Pierre, pressed the dagger to his jugular, and slit the man’s throat.

  Pierre gurgled, hands flying to his throat to hold back the stem of blood as he stumbled forward.

  He spun to face the princess as he fell to his knees, his long life vanishing as quickly as it had come.

  “You bastard,” Daphne hissed. “That is for defiling me.”

  The necklace. If Pierre was dead, maybe—

  The mage collapsed backward, his arms flinging out wide as they no longer had the strength to hold his throat. The necklace, now covered in blood, lifted up into the air, a bright blue light burned from within it. For one brief moment, Wash hoped it would return to Caitlin.

  Instead, the light engulfed Pierre and with a flash both it and he were gone.

  “No!” he screamed.

  He looked down again at Caitlin. Her face was not one of an old woman, but of an ancient statue, weathered and cracked.

  “No,” he whispered.

  “She deserved it, the bitch,” Daphne spat. “This is all her fault anyway. If she had stayed on the island instead of whoring around the world, none of this would have happened.” She let the bloody dagger drop to the ground.

  Duval took his knee out of Agathon’s back and moved his gun away from the elf’s head.

  “Contract terminated,” Duval said. “Let’s move out.”

  Agathon rushed over to Caitlin, kneeling beside her.

  “Caitlin,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please hear me. I’m so sorry.”

  Wash didn’t know if she were still alive, but he hoped she’d heard Agathon’s apology. Anger welled up in him. Anger that even though he had power, he could do nothing. Anger at Daphne for her callous indifference to her sister’s death. Anger at his own helplessness.

  Daphne flung her hair up in a huff, freeing her dangling necklace from her blouse.

  “Agathon, stop humiliating yourself,” Daphne said. “She didn’t matter. I can’t be replaced, but the Bloodseer can. Now escort me home, as is your duty.”

  No power. Hurrikan said he had no power… but…

  Wash looked to Agathon. He didn’t wear a necklace, which meant he had some other item that connected him to the elven power. Daphne, however, did have a necklace, and it looked an awful lot like Caitlin’s.

  He heaved up Caitlin’s failing form.

  “Wash, what are you doing?? Agathon asked.<
br />
  He didn’t have time to explain. Caitlin had seconds, if that. He charged forward, bowling over Daphne in a tangle of flying arms and legs. She screamed as he knocked her to the ground.

  “Hurrikan says he lacks the power to save her, but I know you don’t. Do you?”

  “Get off of me!”

  Wash firmly grasped Daphne’s astéri in one hand and placed his other over Caitlin’s heart.

  “It won’t work for her, it’s mine! She can’t have it!” Magic crackled, and a familiar vibration sprang up around Wash as Daphne opened up her own power, just as Wash had hoped she would.

  Thomas Washington, it could kill you… and me.

  Without her, Hurrikan, I am dead anyway. Please. Find a way.

  The spirit didn’t answer with words, but the vast depth beneath him loomed.

  “What the—” Daphne’s voice cut off as she let out a scream of pure pain. Her body convulsed as Hurrikan ripped magical energy through her astéri and into Wash.

  Wash gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw. The infinite well of Hurrikan loomed on one side of him, and the infinite power of the elven star on the other.

  Magic had rules, Caitlin and Hurrikan both had told him that. Power flowed like electricity, the path of least resistance, and always downhill, attempting to fill empty spaces. Greater sources to greater needs. Hurrikan was immense, the spirit of the Atlantic storms, the power of the wind, sky, and rain… and right now, he was empty.

  On opposite sides of the world they wouldn’t normally interact, but with his body as a conduit, the energy had nothing stopping it.

  Arcane power poured through him. His very blood burned with its essence. He focused on Caitlin. On her smile, her kindness. The way she smelled and how his heart leaped when they touched.

  On the sight of her face when he woke on the shores to see her above him. On every moment since.

  Someone screamed at him to stop. He couldn’t. The vast deep beneath him wasn’t full, only the merest trickle of power had splashed along the bottom.

  Brace yourself, Thomas Washington.

  Thunder boomed from the sky shaking the ground and drowning out the screams. His body vibrated as Hurrikan poured his stolen power into Caitlin. For a moment, Wash could see it all. On Atlantis, a shrine to Poseidon stood, tall and fierce. Beneath it was the source, a star of arcane energy more powerful than any nuclear reactor. The brilliant arcane power flowed through him, into Hurrikan and down into Caitlin. Her body lit up with energy.

  As he watched, her soul brightened, and Wash realized he wasn’t seeing her physical form, but her astral self. Strands of greens and blues wrapped around her from him, tying them together as the power fed her life. From a small flicker, her life source surged into a raging inferno of brilliant light and colors.

  Wash turned back to the source and he saw it flicker as well. Hurrikan sucked it in, his power growing every second. A thousand years of magical energy flowed through Wash to fall into the well of Hurrikan. He would take it all, and extinguish the source that sustained the elves.

  Hurrikan, it’s enough. She lives. You can stop. He told his spirit.

  It will never be enough. I must have it all, Wash. I must live.

  “You will,” he said aloud through clenched teeth. “You will live. In me. Together we can find a way to restore you but we can’t take the lives of others to do so.”

  I am the storm. The raging sea. I take a hundred lives a day. What do I care for one island of elves?

  “I care, Hurrikan. You and I, we are the same. It was more than just coincidence that brought me to your shrine. We are more together than we are apart. I promise you, if it takes my entire life, I will find a way to restore you. What are another hundred years to your five billion?

  The power transfer dimmed, the flood turned to a trickle and finally, it stopped. The connection to the elven source flickered away and Wash felt something… a dissonance within the source itself. But with all the other things happening he couldn’t be sure.

  You are wise Thomas Washington. I have no need of alacrity. I am the storm, the sea, the sky, the rain in the morning. I can wait.

  The power vanished, all of it. Wash collapsed in a heap on the mud, face first into a puddle. The cold water barely phased him as the world spun, rapid fire burst in opposite directions.

  Small hands heaved him over, and he could see the sky. The pink rays of morning light framed a bronze face with glowing green eyes.

  “You saved me again, Wash.”

  He smiled. “I’m from Virginia, we don’t know the meaning of the word surrender,” he replied. He wanted to say more, to tell her how beautiful she was, how much he loved her… but his eyes wouldn’t stay open.

  Sixteen

  Daphne was gone, thank Poseidon. Escorted home by Agathon a few hours earlier. All her hopes of hiding this from her parents were dashed. Wash’ rash move to draw power through Daphne’s astéri had burned all her sister’s hair off. Caitlin sighed, she would never hear the end of this.

  For a lot of reasons.

  She had no astéri of her own. No connection to the elven star, yet she still had power. When Bob had appeared with a basket of fresh strawberries for her, she’d nearly leaped out of her skin. Without her necklace, she shouldn’t be able to use magic any more than an unawakened human. Yet she could.

  She just couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, now that she wasn’t linked to the Elven Star.

  Caitlin folded her legs under her, pressing her back into the thick cushion of her chair. She sipped at tea and absently ate another strawberry while she watched the man who’d saved her life sleep.

  He’d collapsed on the field and, with Agathon’s help, she’d brought him back to the hotel to sleep it off. He wasn’t hurt—not physically, though that much power running through him would likely have killed a lesser person. How he survived was beyond her. As was why she could still use magic.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” his rough voice said.

  Caitlin smiled, her heartwarming at the sound of his voice. Unfolding her legs she walked over to kneel next to him beside the bed.

  “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

  “Like a truck ran me over. Then backed up a few dozen times,” he replied. He pushed at the bed feebly trying to sit up, and she hooked an arm around his shoulders to lift him.

  His warm skin tingled under her fingers. The moment she touched him his eyes snapped open.

  She could feel him. She could feel that his heart was pounding, his palms were sweaty, he had a scratch on his left arm, and she knew without a doubt the only thing he wanted in the whole world was to kiss her.

  How could she know this? It was almost as though they were… linked.

  “Can you feel it too?” she asked.

  He nodded. “But… how?”

  She shook her head. “I… I don’t know.”

  He wrapped his big arms around her and pulled her into his lap, folding up around her and squeezing her tight.

  “I don’t care, you feel amazing, and you’re alive. That’s what I care about,” he said as he buried his face in her shoulder.

  The cascade of emotions that poured off him felt… strange. She couldn’t read his mind, but she knew how he was feeling. She felt it, in a strange way. The swirling mix of emotions was hard to decipher, but one feeling, above all, cut through all the noise.

  “You really do love me, don’t you?” she asked.

  He tilted her head to the side, taking her chin in his fingers. “With all of the pieces of my heart.”

  She slid her arms around his neck. “Then kiss me,” she ordered.

  “As you wish,” he replied.

  * * *

  The End.

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  About the Author

  Cas
sandra is an award-winning journalist, veteran of the armed forces, and jane-of-all-trades. She lives in Idaho with the love of her life and their three kids. After writing day in and day out for ten years, her spouse strongly encouraged her to try to make a living out of it. Since then, she's written under various pen-names and sold several stories of werewolves, witches, and the arcane. She plans on writing until the day she dies. Possibly after, if that's allowed.

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  Scent of a Dragon

  Kris Austen Radcliffe

  Scent of a Dragon © 2017 Kris Austen Radcliffe

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  Scent of a Dragon

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