Master of Dragons

by Angela Knight

  Dying…

  Varza stopped dead at the top of the hill. Centuries of torment among the Dark Ones had made her virtually immune to horror, yet even she took a step back.

  The woman was blazing like a torch, performing a macabre dance of agony on the burning grass. She could not possibly be alive, yet she continued to move, continued to scream.

  The dragon whose breath had seared her lunged to grab her flaming body—and he ignited, too. Their shrieks of anguish rose in a horrific chorus that went on and on as they burned long past the time they should have been dead. Until, blessedly, the two figures collapsed, the fire winking out. Smoke rose from the blackened corpses.

  Varza backed away as the hair rose on her neck. “I don’t know what in Rakatvira’s black name they were trying to do, but whatever it was failed,” she told Arralt. “They’re no threat to us.”

  Together they started back down the hill.

  Nineva! Kel flooded her consciousness like a blast of cool water.

  Too late. The thought was weak, dim. Nineva could feel herself beginning to float. Somewhere overhead shone a pearly, calming light. She tilted her seared face back to look up at it and sensed the sweet promise of peace. No more endless battle, no more pain. No grief or duty or failure. Just peace, drawing her upward.

  No! Kel’s voice was distant, dreamlike, yet she could still hear the fear and desperation in it. Don’t leave me, Nineva. Please. Not when I’ve finally found you…

  She looked down and met those crimson eyes that were somehow looking down at her as though he held her in his arms.

  You can’t die. She knew he was trying to play on her sense of duty. How will we beat the Dark Ones without you?

  Semira can do it. She’s got her power back. Nineva could sense the goddess through the bond that connected them even now.

  She’s free. I’ve done my job. I can go home. I can see Daddy.

  But what about me? The pain in the thought stabbed through the pleasant numbness of death. There’s nothing for me without you.

  She could feel his grief, his pain and failure. He’d done everything he could, but it meant nothing to her. She hadn’t loved him after all.

  His heart stuttered in his chest. What are you doing?

  It seems, he said distantly, that I’m dying.

  And his heart stopped.

  No! She kicked away from the light. No! We live together. Come back, Kel! Desperate, she reached for him through the Truebond, reached for her magic, and sent it flooding into him.

  Instantly she realized it wouldn’t be enough. She was no longer even alive herself. They were both too far gone…

  No, my brave girl. I’ll not let you die. Not when you sacrificed so much. It was Semira, her voice stronger than Nineva had ever heard it.

  Power flooded her, sweet and clean and bright, washing through her poor, seared body. Spreading healing like the purest water sinking into parched, dead earth.

  Her heart lurched and began to beat. Nineva convulsed, coughing, choking on ash. Then suddenly the obstruction was gone, and she dragged pure air into her lungs. “Kel?” Her voice emerged as a cracked wheeze.

  Lifting her head, she realized she was lying on her back. She rolled over onto her hands and knees, ash crackling and raining around her, and staggered to her feet.

  Something huge and black and misshapen lay in the center of a circle of burned grass. Something that looked like it might have been a dragon.

  He couldn’t possibly be alive.

  “Kel!” she wailed it. Had she endured all this, only to lose the one thing that mattered?

  A great red eye opened, bright against the surrounding char. He snorted convulsively and scrambled to his feet, shaking himself like a wet dog. Ash flew from his body, revealing clean, whole, scaled skin.

  Would I have let him die when he gave me back my power? Cachamwri asked in the Truebond, sounding amused. That would have been a poor reward for such generosity and sacrifice.

  Then would you do something about the nightmares I’m going to be having for the next six centuries? Nineva asked tartly, brushing at the ash on her arms. The skin beneath it glowed. She stared down at it, startled.

  He laughed. I think that can be arranged. Semira, my love?

  I’m here. Free. Semira’s voice spoke in Nineva’s mind, reverberating like the sound of silver bells. I’m free at last.

  And we have a great deal to do, if you’re to stay that way, Cachamwri told her. Let’s get to it while our children tend to their enemies.

  He burst from Kel’s chest, blazing bright as a star as he flew skyward, sparks flying from his wings. Kel gasped in surprise.

  Nineva felt something vast stir within her, then pull free. A lush female figure emerged from her body and darted skyward, shining like moonlight, her hair dancing around her naked body as she flew. Wait for me, my love!

  Semira. Free. Nineva felt tears sting her eyes. She’d done it. She’d succeeded.

  “What. Have. You. Done?” The female voice roared in fury.

  Startled, Nineva whirled. A group of armored warriors stalked toward her, Arralt in the lead. Ahead of them walked a woman, green hair matted with blood, yellow eyes narrow with rage, a massive battleaxe in her hand.

  Varza.

  EIGHTEEN

  Kel was still feeling battered and dazed from the horror of the death he’d shared with Nineva, but rest obviously wasn’t an option. He roared and charged the knot of rebels. The female spun aside from his path. He heard her axe ring against Nineva’s conjured shield, but before he could turn back, he had his clawed hands full with rebel Sidhe.

  Even so, through the Truebond he could feel Nineva’s steady determination as she went to battle with the witch.

  The team of rebels circled Kel as he turned, trying to determine which one to pick off first. He could tell by the way they moved that they were veterans, skilled with the lances, axes, and swords they held. They didn’t even flinch at the prospect of taking on forty feet of pissed-off dragon. And they knew how to do it, too, as they closed in on him like wolves around a bear.

  But the bear in question was hardly a wimp either. Kel darted his head at a warrior who’d come too close with his spear. Clamping his jaws down on the man’s thigh, he jerked him into the air and gave him a vicious terrier shake. There was a scream and a snap, and the man went limp, dead of a broken neck. Kel tossed him aside.

  Before he could savor the triumph, pain sliced into his right rear leg. Kel twisted and sent his tail whipping around. It caught the warrior who’d driven the spear into his haunch, batting him skyward like a pop-fly ball.

  The spear, however, did not disappear, so the bastard wasn’t dead.

  And neither were his friends, because they closed in on Kel with roars of rage, swinging axes and jabbing lances into any part of him they could reach. He leaped skyward and beat his wings hard enough to blow them back, catching another of their number with his tail while he was at it.

  The remaining five warriors scuttled to a more respectful distance, cool-eyed and calculating.

  Unfortunately, they’d done as much damage to him as he had to them. Two lances protruded from his body now, someone having caught him behind the right shoulder. Worse, he bled from half a dozen sword and axe wounds.

  He breathed a fire blast at them, mostly to give himself time to think while they scattered.

  Unfortunately, he was more adept at fighting battles like this in human form, where he presented his opponents with less target to hit. Too, shape-shifting would heal his injuries, one of which was bleeding too damn fast.

  Kel let his magic pour through him. The next moment, he stood on two feet again, the familiar weight of a sword in his hand and armor protecting his body.

  “Now,” he growled, “let’s try that again.”

  Nineva circled with the yellow-eyed Sidhe, keeping a wary eye on the witch’s axe. Despite her near-death experience, Semira had returned Nineva’s body to its full strength, or maybe ev
en better. She felt fresh and strong, her sword and shield solid and familiar in her hands.

  And she was more than in the mood to kick some alien ass.

  “You’re the one who engineered all this,” Nineva snarled. “You stole Grim and the Egg and tried to kidnap the queen.”

  “Your grasp of the obvious is stunning.” Varza lunged, swinging the axe in a hard, flat arc.

  Nineva barely caught the blow on her steel shield, which bucked with the impact. She thrust her sword at the witch’s gut, but her opponent danced away.

  “You should have stayed dead, bitch.” Varza spun, using the momentum of her body to add force to her axe blow.

  Nineva jumped back, avoiding the diagonal slice that would have cut her in two. She immediately swung her own blade, but Varza ducked and kept her head.

  “Your death will only feed my magic,” the alien sneered.

  “Gotta kill me first, skank.”

  Just beyond her opponent, she saw Kel pivoting with that inhuman grace of his to catch one of the rebels with a vicious slash. The man went down and didn’t get up. She could feel Kel’s grim satisfaction as he went after the next warrior.

  She just hoped she’d have as much luck with Varza.

  Semira spread her arms, glorying in the magic that flowed through her now that she had escaped the sword. Ahhh, my love, she purred, freedom is so sweet!

  Cachamwri circled her, multicolored sparks shooting from his wings. His tail curled around her thighs. I have dreamed of your freedom.

  He’d first touched Semira’s glowing, trapped mind centuries before—and fallen helplessly in love. He’d wanted to free her from her sword then, but she wouldn’t allow it. She had, she said, a duty to fulfill the prophecy and protect her people from the Dark Ones.

  Now all those millennia of lonely patience were finally at an end. Semira was free. Goddess to his god, the eternal immortal lover he’d always dreamed of…

  What joy they would know.

  Soon, Semira told him. But first, we must re-create the wards before the second wave of Dark Ones arrives.

  True enough. He cocked his head back and contemplated the planetary ley lines that crisscrossed the sky. It should not be too difficult if we work together.

  She glanced downward, absently checking on her Avatar and Kel. Death magic roiled over the battlefield like black smoke, thickening with every warrior who fell—and making the Dark Ones even stronger. It occurs to me, she said slowly, perhaps we need not be content with merely rebuilding the wards.

  The dragon’s flaming head turned to study her. What do you have in mind?

  Semira smiled and told him.

  Kel blocked the sword thrust at his chest as the warrior spun by him. He disengaged his blade before the other could tear it from his hand, then drove his own point through the rebel’s chest. The man grunted in pain. Kel watched his eyes widen through the slit in his visor before they rolled back. The rebel fell dead, his body falling off Kel’s sword.

  A blade flashed at his head, and Kel leaped back, landing nimbly as the final fighter studied him with narrow, hate-filled eyes. He grinned tightly, recognizing the man’s gaudy fang-decorated horsehair crest.

  It was Arralt himself.

  “Freeing those gods accomplished nothing. I’m going to gut you,” Arralt snarled, “and then I’m going to hunt down that milksop Llyr Galatyn and rip out his heart.”

  Kel smirked at him, sensing the rise of mystical energy far over their heads. “I beg to differ. Feel that? Semira and Cachamwri are up there now, casting new wards. Your Dark One reinforcements won’t be able to get through. And then we’ll pick off the leftovers. Including you.”

  “You—!” Arralt broke off his snarled curse, eyes widening in surprise. “The magic! That’s not just the wards—what are they doing to the death magic?”

  Kel rocked back in surprise, realizing his opponent was right. The stench of alien magic was thinning like lifting fog. His eyes widened in delight. “I’ll be damned. They’re putting up some kind of dampening field.”

  Concentrating, Kel summoned a fireball. It blazed as hot and bright as ever. “Doesn’t seem to affect ours, though.” He gave Arralt a feral grin. “Oops.”

  Sick realization filled the rebel’s eyes before he roared in fury. “You! You did this! You’ve destroyed everything!”

  Kel laughed in his face. “Oh, not yet. But I’m going to.”

  Arralt lunged at him, his face twisted with insane rage as he swung his sword in great arcs back and forth. Kel retreated, parrying each swing, his blade jolting in his hands with each ringing contact, while he watched for the opening that would let him take the general’s head.

  Nineva was bleeding from a dozen wounds. They burned along her thighs, arms, and hands, across her rib cage and belly. She ignored the blood and ache. After what she’d been through, they scarcely registered.

  All that mattered was taking down the bitch who’d done this to her, to Kel and Semira and Cachamwri, not to mention to all the dead and wounded who littered the battlefield.

  And she was close to doing it, too. Varza had switched her axe to a sword, then conjured a lighter blade to replace that. She was moving more and more slowly, as if the blows Nineva had landed were also beginning to tell on her.

  “Getting a little weak, Varza?”

  The witch sneered. “Not as long as there’s a dying man on this…” She broke off, her eyes widening. “What?”

  Nineva grinned. “Took you long enough to notice it, bitch. My goddess has been busy with the ley lines.” She’d felt the death magic fading a good fifteen minutes before. Apparently Varza had been too intent on killing her to notice. “No wonder you’re getting weaker.”

  “Not too weak to kill you!” The alien bared her teeth and swung her sword. Nineva knocked her point aside, then drove her own weapon through Varza’s chest in one ruthless thrust.

  The alien’s gaze fell, taking in the blade that pierced her. “No…”

  Nineva bared her teeth. “Oh, yeah.”

  Varza darted a hand out, her gauntlet simultaneously disappearing from it. Before Nineva could flinch, the alien jammed her fingers through the eye slit of Nineva’s visor to touch bare skin.

  Something malevolent and powerful rolled from those fingers—the touch of an alien mind, an alien soul. Streaming into Nineva’s being. Attempting to wipe her spirit from her body.

  She’s trying to possess me! Nineva realized in horror.

  I don’t think so. Kel snarled in the Truebond, sending a wave of strength and magic to reinforce hers. Varza’s attack faltered.

  Nineva drove one hand against the witch’s chest and blew a fireball right through her. The alien mind winked out as Varza fell dead on the grass.

  Nineva dropped to one knee, panting, spots dancing before her vision.

  “Varza!” Arralt shouted as he saw the witch fall. Anguish and despair rang in his voice.

  Kel drew back his sword. For an instant, the rebel’s eyes met his, and he knew the bastard would parry. Yet the blade never came up as Kel followed through with every ounce of his considerable strength.

  Arralt’s head spun away.

  “I’ll be damned,” Kel murmured, lowering his sword as he watched the general’s body tumble to the ground.

  “He knew he’d lost,” Nineva said.

  He followed her gaze to the battlefield. From this vantage point, it was easy to see that the tide had turned. The rest of the rebels were even now going down before Llyr and his men, while the Magekind, the dragons, and the Dire Wolves were wiping out the Dark Ones.

  “Without their death magic, the aliens are just big guys with swords,” Nineva said, pulling her own blade out of Varza’s corpse.

  Kel grinned savagely. “And Arthur knows just what to do to big guys with swords.”

  Kel and Nineva spent the next three hours flying back and forth over the battlefield, breathing fire and throwing spell blasts to help in the mopping up.

  The
Sidhe rebels started surrendering as soon as word went out Arralt was dead. Llyr and his men rounded them up and took them prisoner.

  But nobody offered any quarter to the Dark Ones, who fought with the single-minded viciousness of cornered rats. Killing them all off was a bloody, exhausting business, but finally the last demon was dead.

  Nineva walked the battlefield at Kel’s side, scanning for wounded among the fallen. Anyone she found still living, she worked to heal.

  With the exception of the Dark Ones. Those, Kel took care of with a swift stroke of his sword.

  Nineva and Kel weren’t the only ones circulating across the battlefield. It seemed every Sidhe, Maja, and dragon was also at work, healing those they could and sorting the dead for burial.

  There were far too many dead. More than three hundred Magekind had fallen, along with thirty werewolves and several thousand Sidhe, most of them rebels.

  One hundred and fifty dragons had also died in the battle.

  “Kel.” Nineva stopped short, her gaze falling on one massive body. It lay sprawled and broken, its skin horribly burned, but she sensed a faint trace of life within it. Beside it lay a bipedal figure, too badly burned to identify, and quite dead. “Think we can save that dragon?”

  “If we work fast,” Kel said grimly, breaking into a run toward the fallen dragon. Nineva sprinted after him.

  But as they came around its shoulder, they found someone already kneeling by the huge head. Nineva drew up in surprise.

  It was a boy. He looked no more than fifteen or so, his chin as smooth as a girl’s, his body long and narrow in the plain wool robe he wore.

  The dragon moaned in pain, one brilliant blue eye slitting open, startling against the burns that marred its white scales.

  With a sense of horror, Nineva recognized her. It was the pretty white dragon who’d flirted with Kel. “Eithne?” She hurried over and dropped beside the boy as she cast a quick translation spell. “Oh, Eithne…”