“Nineva,” he groaned. “Cachamwri’s Egg, Nineva…”
“You feel so good,” she gasped back, digging her fingers into his shoulders. Her nails pricked his skin like little spurs, and he ground his teeth. “More. Goddess, more. Faster…” Tiny inner muscles tightened around him, rippling.
And he lost control.
He began to lunge, giving her what she begged for, harder, faster, shuttling his cock in and out. Nineva writhed under him, her eyes dazed with the rise of her orgasm. “Kel!”
Kel felt huge, his cock thick and impossibly arousing, impossibly delicious.
Nineva was distantly aware of the Goddess Mark throbbing on her breast in time to her heart. The spell was revolving around them so fast now, it was impossible to make out the individual runes. There was nothing but a blur of red and the foaming dance of magic across her skin.
Kel’s muscular shoulders felt sweat-slick under her hands, and his taut backside worked within the clasp of her legs as she gripped him. Each thrust sent another burning spike of delight up her spine.
Until he rammed to his full length and stiffened there with a shout. The sensation of being filled so full was enough to tip her over the edge. She cried out as the sweet pulses started.
Deep inside her magic flooded her with his come. The spell globe imploded in utter silence. They both screamed as the runes sank into their skin like hot snowflakes.
Yes! Semira’s voice rang in Nineva’s mind, but it wasn’t weak anymore. The presence that had been a distant thing suddenly filled her consciousness with ancient power and alien magic.
Nineva caught her breath in awe. Are you free?
Not yet. Not quite. The goddess’s mental voice seemed to ring in her very bones. The spell needs one last thing.
And Nineva, knowing exactly what, felt her blood run cold.
“Kel?” His lover’s voice sounded strangled.
He lifted his head from her chest in alarm. “What? What’s wrong?”
Her face was pale as milk, and her eyes were huge. “Semira said you’re going to have to do it if we’re going to complete the spell. Now.”
His stomach clenched in sudden alarm. “Do what?”
Her lips trembled. “Fulfill the prophecy.”
He stared. “You mean fry you.”
“Yes.”
“What part of ‘Hell, no’ eludes her? I thought I’d made my stance on that topic pretty damned clear.” Kel rolled off her, unable to lie still with his temper boiling.
Damned goddess. Hadn’t they jumped through enough hoops for her?
Nineva sat back on her heels, lush and naked despite the anguish in her beautiful eyes. “But Semira says it’s necessary to complete the spell. And we’ve got to free her, Kel. You know that. It’s the only way any of us have a prayer.”
“And how do we know it will actually accomplish a damn thing? She said if we had sex, it would strengthen her enough that she’d be able to lead us to her. We’ve fucked like bunnies, and she still doesn’t have a clue.”
“Don’t use that tone when you talk about Semira,” Nineva snapped. “She is my goddess, just as Cachamwri is your god.”
“And I’m sick of getting jerked around by gods. They know what’s going on, but they won’t lift a finger to stop any of it. Instead they expect us to do all the bleeding. Screw that.”
Nineva sprang from the bed, anger and desperation in her snapping eyes. “So we’re just going to let the Dark Ones invade because we think the gods aren’t pulling their weight?”
“No,” Kel snarled through gritted teeth. “We’re going to stop them. But I’m damned if I’m going to incinerate the woman I love just because some so-called ‘goddess’ says so. We’re going to gate the army to that mountain Soren found, and then we’re going to hunt the bastards down and kill them. And you are going to be in one big, non-crispy piece when we do it.”
“And what if we fail?” Nineva shouted. “What if Dark Ones destroy the wards and we don’t have the power to stop them because…we didn’t have the guts?”
He stared at her coldly. “You mean because I didn’t have the guts.”
Nineva sat back down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. Finally she lifted her head and sighed. “Kel, this is what I was raised to do.”
“No, this is what your daddy brainwashed you to do. There’s a difference.”
“You leave my father out of this!”
“Why? This is all about him. You think sacrificing yourself on Semira’s altar will somehow make up for his getting himself killed when you were a kid.”
“He didn’t get himself killed, Kel. I got him killed.”
“You saved a fucking dog. He could have run, Nineva. He could have taken your mother and gone in the opposite direction from wherever he sent you. Instead, he decided to die a martyr, and sacrifice your mother in the process. Well, I’m not helping you follow in Daddy’s footsteps.”
Nineva curled her lip at him. “Fine. You want to be bullheaded and stupid, fine. But when the Dark Ones swarm us like locusts, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Silence lay between them like a huge icy weight as they prepared to gate to the outskirts of Avalon.
Did he really think she wanted to burn, Nineva thought, so angry she couldn’t even speak. After all the times she’d woken up sweating and crying, how could he think dying in flames had any appeal to her? She had no desire to be a martyr, no matter what he thought.
But if it meant saving both Earths from the Dark Ones, she was willing to do it. Hell, those bastards would make her suffer just as much if they won anyway. It made more sense to make sure nobody else had to go down with her.
But noooo. Kel was convinced he was right. Besides, he didn’t want to deal with the guilt of having to hurt her.
Why she was so in love with the man was a total mystery. He was an idiot. A romantic, softhearted, arrogant idiot.
And she wished he wouldn’t keep giving her those icy, aloof looks. They made her crazy.
The moment he gestured the gate into being, Nineva stepped through, having no desire to be alone with him any longer.
She emerged onto a hill overlooking Avalon. The city sprawled white and serene in the light of the moon, like a sleeping goddess. In no mood to appreciate the view, Nineva stepped aside so that Kel could gate in, the grass crackling with frost beneath her feet.
There were dragons everywhere she looked. Eyes glowed in the moonlight, scales glinted, wings furled or stirred restlessly. And even more astonishing, each one of the great creatures bore a rider, some in the armor of the Magekind, others in that of the Two Kingdoms.
Noticing the harnesses the dragons wore, Nineva hid a tight, slightly malicious grin. I’ll bet they loved that.
Those not mounted on dragons rode armored Sidhe horses. “They must be under one hell of a spell,” Kel commented in a low voice. “Horses generally don’t like dragons very much. We eat ’em.”
Nineva barely heard. Her attention had fallen on a group of towering, muscled figures with long lupine muzzles, wolf-pointed ears, and claws like knives. Thick fur covered them—deep red, black, brown, gray, white, and blond in a range of shades that matched normal human hair color. “What the hell are they?” she whispered, forgetting for the moment that she was furious at him.
“Dire Wolves.” Kel shrugged. “Or werewolves, take your pick. Merlin created them to keep an eye on the Magekind. We only recently found out about them.”
“Werewolves? Like the queen? But she turned into a regular wolf after her baby was born.”
“Dire Wolves can assume more than one form.”
“There you are.” They looked around as Arthur strode toward them in a gleaming suit of golden armor, intricately engraved in magical symbols. He wore Excalibur sheathed across his back tonight, the gems of the great blade’s hilt catching the light of the magical torches. For the first time, Nineva could believe he was the king the legends spoke of.
Llyr walked at his s
ide in iridescent dragon-scale armor. One of the huge werewolves followed. It was odd to see familiar silver eyes looking out of that savage wolf face.
Nineva dared step closer to the werewolf as Llyr, Arthur, and Kel conferred. “Where’s Prince Dearg?”
Diana smiled, flashing white and intimidating teeth. “Back at the palace with his great-grandma Oriana and every guard we’ve got. Anybody tries anything, Oriana will turn ’em into a frog.” She sighed. “I hated to leave him, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need every Dire Wolf we can get.” Her gaze shifted to her husband’s face. “Besides, I was damned if I was going to let Llyr ride into battle without me to watch his back.”
Nineva nodded, her own gaze drifting to Kel. Pissed as she was at him, she felt exactly the same.
Every instinct she had whispered that this was about to get ugly.
Piaras howled in rage, his golden body lashing in the spell that held him. Even Varza found herself taking a step back from his fury. He roared Draconian curses and threats, demanding that they return the stolen Egg even as he swore he’d take his revenge for what they’d done to him.
He’d flown right into the trap without hesitation. It apparently never occurred to the Dragon Lord that the Sidhe could be a real threat.
It had taken more than a hundred warriors—fifteen of whom lost their lives—but at the end of the day, Piaras had been bound in chains of magic. With Arralt’s magic holding the dragons contained, Varza was able to possess the beast just as she had her Sidhe victims. This time, though, she’d let her victim’s spirit live. The better to use him later.
After that, stealing Cachamwri’s Egg had been child’s play—though admittedly nerve-wracking child’s play. Keeping the Dragon Lords from sensing her possession of their leader had taken every bit of skill and magic Varza had.
But she’d done it. Now they had Semira’s Sword, Merlin’s Grimoire, Cachamwri’s Egg—and the sacrifice that would power the first stages of the spell.
Good thing, too. Even through the wards, she could almost sense her master’s impatience.
She turned from Piaras just as Arralt strode toward her, radiating a raw excitement. That didn’t surprise her. He was one of those who was intoxicated by risk.
But then, he’d never had the Dark Ones teach him the price of losing.
“My forces are ready to gate,” he announced.
“Good. My master’s warriors wait as well,” Varza told him. “Prepare the sacrifice.” She turned and moved to the altar she’d conjured in the center of the great chamber. Around it lay the twisted lines of the death spell she’d drawn, waiting only the last rune to complete its magic.
Her master’s orb hovered over the altar, casting its yellow light over sword, book, and egg. Death magic hung in the air, heavy and black with potential.
“Sacrifice?” Piaras demanded, sinking back on his haunches as Arralt’s men surrounded his spell cage.
No one bothered to answer as the rebel general walked over to the altar and accepted the dragon spear she handed him. Over fifteen feet of thick Sidhe wood, it was heavily worked with runes to strengthen it. Its razor-sharp head was the length of his forearm.
Fear flickered in the Dragon Lord’s eyes as Arralt moved toward him with the weapon in both hands. “You would not dare, ape!”
Arralt gave him a faint, cold smile. “I would dare a great deal, lizard.” To the ten warriors who surrounded the dragon, he added, “Ready yourselves.”
The men, his most experienced fighters, gave short, tight nods. He dropped the spell cage that held the dragon.
Instantly, the great beast lunged for him, jaws opening in preparation for a blast of magical fire. The nearest warrior cast a spell line that snapped around the creature’s muzzle like a rope, jerking his mouth closed. Piaras reared, dragging the warrior off his feet. The dragon jerked his head, trying to dash the Sidhe against the far wall, but the other fighters were already casting their own lines.
Everywhere they touched him, the spells immobilized his body, freezing legs and wings until he was finally left sprawled on the stone floor, panting in defeated rage.
“Turn him on his side,” Arralt ordered.
Other warriors ran forward to lend their strength on the lines. With grunts of effort, they managed to roll the struggling beast until his chest lay exposed.
Arralt radiated icy pleasure as he approached the Dragon Lord. Piaras’s muscles twitched with effort to fight, only to subside into helplessness under the weight of the binding spell.
The general drew back the spear and drove it into the beast’s chest. Piaras grunted in agony and convulsed as the point penetrated his heart.
Quickly, Varza hurried forward and grabbed the spear as Arralt stepped away. She jerked it from the dragon’s chest and used its bloody point to draw the last crucial rune on the floor.
As the dragon died, the stink of released death magic made even Arralt gag. Varza barely noticed, all her attention on the magic rising around her like a storm.
She lifted the point again and turned to the altar where the Grimoire lay open. Using the dripping spear, she scrawled a symbol across the tome’s pages. Throwing the weapon aside, she picked up the Sword of Semira and nodded at Arralt.
He stepped forward and lifted the Egg high over the Grimoire. Without hesitation, Varza rammed the sword right through it. Blood poured from the cracked shell and fell on the open book.
And the spell exploded in a soundless burst of light. Raw energy lanced up from the altar, shooting toward the ceiling of the cavern and knifing right through the thick stone.
When the glare faded, the book was gone.
Breath held, Varza extended her senses upward, reaching for the wards that surrounded the planet thousands of feet above. She saw the spell strike the barrier and sizzle along the lines of force. Everywhere it touched, the wards faded and went out.
In a heartbeat, all of them had vanished.
Varza smiled, but it was more snarl than anything else. “It’s done.”
Arralt and his men, the fools, cheered. Evidently the general hadn’t noticed the life she’d lived back on Odra, or realized he’d just delivered himself and his people to the same fate.
Rakatvira’s voice blasted from the orb, clear now that the wards were gone. “The conquest begins now. We move on Avalon.”
SEVENTEEN
One minute she was talking to Diana. The next, light exploded in her head with a white-hot burst of agony, and she was on her knees, gasping and blind.
“Nineva!” Fear rang in Kel’s voice. He caught her and drew her into his lap. “What is it?”
“Semira…,” she rasped. In the depths of her mind, she could hear the goddess screaming. “Something’s happened to Semira…”
Diana’s voice rang somewhere off to the left, tight with panic. “Llyr! What the hell is going on?”
“Cachamwri. They…attacked him…” Llyr sounded as weak as Nineva felt. He must be down, too.
A woman cursed with impressive inventiveness. “The wards are gone. That’s what’s hit the Avatars—they did something to the sword and the Egg.”
“Not to mention Grim,” Arthur snarled. “Well, that’s torn it. We’re fucked.”
“Gates!” a man shouted. “Somebody’s gating in!”
“Dark Ones!” The roar of warning went up, followed almost instantly by battle cries and blood-chilling, inhuman howls. Around the hillside, dragons leaped skyward in a thundering wind of beating wings.
“Magekind!” Arthur bellowed over the wind as he began to run. “Attack!” With a roar, his people charged in his wake.
Aware of countless armored feet rushing past, Nineva struggled to drag herself out of Kel’s lap, despite her debilitating weakness. “Help me up!” she grated through her teeth. “We’ve got to go fight!”
“I know.” Kel rose and pulled her upright with one hand. “Well, you warned me,” he said grimly. “And you were right.”
“I don’t thin
k it would have mattered.” Nineva braced her legs and fought a wave of dizziness. She felt gutted, and the familiar heat of Semira’s Mark was gone from her chest. “We wouldn’t have had time to finish the spell before they hit us.”
“Could we do it now?”
“There’s no point. I can’t feel Semira at all. I think she’s dead.” Nineva knew better than to let herself think about that now. Guilt would cripple her, and she needed to be able to fight.
Llyr was up now, too, though his face was white and grim as he made for the dancing roan stallion another Sidhe held for him. Diana hovered anxiously as he swung aboard the huge animal. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“I have to be,” he told his wife grimly, driving his spurred heels into the horse’s muscular ribs. “I’m king!” He galloped toward the sound of battle, Diana loping at his heels. The other werewolves followed her, lifting their voices in chilling howls that rang across the battlefield.
“I’ve got to change, too,” Kel shouted to Nineva. “We’ll do more good if I’m in dragon form.”
“Go!” she cried, stepping back. The rest of the army had already disappeared down the hill to engage the Dark Ones, so he had plenty of room to transform.
She felt his magic flood over her skin, and he was a dragon again. Given the howls and screams coming from the battlefield, Nineva was damned glad of it.
She ran forward, grabbed the harness he wore, and managed to haul herself up and onto his neck. He leaped skyward before she was even settled. Nineva grabbed at the straps, kicked her feet into the stirrups, and held on for dear life.
Kel’s huge wings carried them up and over the battle into a sky full of darting, fire-breathing dragons and their warrior passengers. Unfortunately, it was also full of magical blasts, boiling with energy and zipping through the air like antiaircraft fire.
The blasts were huge, easily the size of boulders, and a seething blood red.
Master of Dragons Page 24
