To Save The Broken Heart: Dragons, Griffons and Centaurs, Oh My! (Dragons, Griffons, and Centaurs, Oh My!)

by Margaret Taylor

  She shuddered, huffing out a lungful of air. “There is that, yes,” she managed over the heat coiling through her belly. “But it was more too.”

  An eyebrow rose slowly. “Oh?”

  Again, best to be honest. She toyed with the edge of the sheet, dropping her eyes away as she admitted something even Lanni hadn’t known. “I was kind of hoping he’d at least give me kids.”

  He said nothing and her heart thumped wildly under her sternum. Most men, when you started talking about children ran for it. Quickly. Glancing at him, she expected the same. But he was grinning like a goof, his smile so wide she could almost count every one of his perfect teeth. His eyes sparkled brightly, rolling through every variation of red and orange she could imagine.

  “You actually want children?”

  They were getting off topic, but she confirmed the statement. “Yeah. I do. It was just me and Lanni growing up and deep down I’ve always wanted a multitude to spoil and chase and love and…”

  She stopped when his smile widened even further and his eyes blazed the brightest orange she’d ever seen.

  “I was an only hatchling myself,” he finally said. “And hoped one day to fill a nest with my offspring…”

  She laughed and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. “That is something I’m sure we can work on, but for now,” she said, bringing them back around to the topic at hand. “We really need to figure this out.”

  Sitting back again, she sighed happily and tried it from a different angle. “Is there anything special about Bra’ka? Or the Third Kingdom? Anything Golix might be after?”

  He continued grinning but she could see the wheels turning by the shifting colors in his eyes. “Other than our long standing allegiance with Arin and his kin, no.”

  It was her turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  He rolled over again, his fingers stroking along her inner thigh. Wicked heat pooled between her legs, trying to devour her from the inside. She stilled his hand, repeating the question on a breathless whisper.

  He shifted it to the other side, continuing to trace intricate patterns with the flames that burst to life under his touch. “Dhra’go is the only place to find Rustac in its raw form. The Chimera mine it and sell the refined metal exclusively to the Bra’ka Processing Center. We distribute it to all the other Kingdoms, at a reasonable price of course.”

  She slapped a hand over his, stilling the digits.

  That was it.

  Rustac was everywhere, in everything and from what she’d learned so far, stronger than any other metal. If Golix controlled Bra’ka, he could control the majority of their economy.

  No, no, there was still more.

  Again from her dealings with him, he didn’t seem the materialistic type. In fact, given the condition of his village, he lived rather simply.

  Unless…

  Her mouth flopped open.

  No!

  But, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

  It does. It most certainly does…

  “Kyleri? Are you well?”

  The question interrupted her train of thought and she blinked. “How many portals are left between our worlds, Draven?”

  “There were not supposed to be any. The Pegasus closed them all in King Elfane’s time. Or so we were told. Why?”

  She gave the hand under hers a shake. “Because I think I figured out what the end game is. Golix means to have both worlds. Yours through force and mine through money…”

  ***

  Draven stared at her, kicking himself mentally for not thinking of it before. In his defense though, until a hundred Suns ago, he, like most, never believed the Human world existed. But, leave it to his smart as sin Kyleri to be to put all the pieces in place.

  And, in that moment, he loved her even more.

  If they came out of this mess on the other side in one piece, she was going to make an excellent Queen. She would be worthy of the crown atop her head, unlike him.

  The fact that she also wanted to help his blood line continue, maybe even flourish, swelled his chest with pride.

  Grinning wickedly, he tightened his hand into her thigh. Her nakedness had made it damn hard to concentrate on what she was saying but he’d managed. Now that they’d figured it out, they could revisit the issue again in short order.

  But first, he had to have her…again. And again. And again.

  The silver of her eyes flashed hotly and he rose to his knees, dipping his face into her neck. Dragging her essence deep into his lungs, he kissed a path down her chest to her breast, easing her back onto the covers at the same time.

  She pushed at his shoulders, but not very hard. “Dra—ven,” she whispered. “We, need, a plan.”

  He murmured against her breast, suckling it deep. “Mmhmm. Later,” he added around the nipple between his teeth. “Much, later.”

  Chapter Five

  Arin Manus struggled to find some comfort in the confines of the cage. But the way the bastard of a guard had left him, there was none. Not only was he chained at the neck, wrists and feet, but ropes had been added to his elbows, knees, waist and shoulders, pulling each piece of his body taut with the metal bars. Even his hands had been wrapped with the coils and pinned to the upper rungs. The only parts he could move were his fingers and head.

  He strained at the coils over his palms, trying to wriggle his thumb free and saw through the strands with a claw, but with his elbows stretched toward either side of the cage, he just didn’t have any leverage.

  Maybe, if he could get the muzzle off.

  Sitting up as high as he could against the coils over his shoulders and around his waist, he twisted his face toward the bars, hoping to catch some part of it and slip free of the tight metal.

  Relaxing when all he managed to do was put a crick in his neck, he leaned his head back with a thump and waited…

  Two rotations had passed since they’d left him in the bowels of the ship and no one, not even his old friends within the ranks, had come to check on him. That was fine, but he could have done with some water. Even a sip to quench the dryness in this throat would have been nice.

  No matter how many times he rattled his chains or thumped his booted feet against the bars, no one had bothered with him. He’d had to give up on the endeavor as darkness fell on the third rotation. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten and exhaustion finally won out, lulling him into a half-sleep state…

  A muffled explosion, followed by yelling, jarred him awake again sometime around high dark. He jerked and was just able to make out some of the commands from his fellow guards.

  “Griffons!”

  “Attacking!”

  He struggled, twisting and yanking at his bonds. If someone would free him, he would fight! Draven had told him the bastards were one of the factions who’d declared war and he would gladly rip open a few in defense of his Kingdom.

  But no one came.

  The battle sounded extremely short-lived and one sided, a fact confirmed when two of the beasties ducked under the bulkhead to the cargo bay. They were dressed for war, their blood covered armor catching the light from the lamp over the doorway.

  “Ah yes, there you are,” the Griffon in the lead said. He bent his Eagle-like head close to the cage and tilted it over, his golden-brown eye blinking once. “I was worried they might have killed you.”

  That made no sense, but if they were here to rescue him, why weren’t they untying him? He gave the cuffs on his wrists a rattle, lifting an eyebrow.

  A laugh barked out of the beak. “You would like out of there?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, I think not.” He turned and gave an order over his shoulder. “Bring him.”

  Two Orc’s slipped from their respective backs, booted feet thudding on the deck. Sheathing their weapons, they grabbed the ends of his cage and carried him back above without a word.

  This was not a good thing!

  If the Orc’s were already in league with the Griffon’s, things just got di
re indeed. And they weren’t the only ones either. As they exited into the moonlight, Ogre’s were herding the surviving guards toward another ship that had pulled alongside The Nval. Bodies of the Roc’s, their Riders and his former troops littered the deck, their blood pitch black against the metal of the ship. A single tear pooled in his eye and slipped down his cheek for his fallen comrades, before anger the likes of which he’d not felt in a hundred Suns consumed him.

  They would pay, all of them!

  He studied the faces, committing each to memory for the day he would have his revenge! He shook in his bonds, filled with a blood lust that only intensified a thousand fold with a comment he heard as the cage was passed from one ship to the other.

  “Golix will be pleased,” an Ogre said.

  “Indeed,” a nearby Griffon replied. He nodded toward The Nval’s bridge. “We will take her west where she will be refit for glorious battle.”

  A cheer rang off in to the night and the hearts in his chest contorted in fury…

  ***

  “Enough!”

  A low, vicious growl rolled across the air of the cargo bay in the wake of her command and Oda Thok sighed. She pinned each of the Orc’s surrounding the cage in a corner with a look and they had the good sense to duck away.

  One by one, they slipped past her and headed back topside. It’d been six rotations since they’d parted ways with The Nval and she’d seen the troops heading down here on and off ever since. A bit later, they’d return to the upper decks, laughing and it wasn’t until she’d seen two exchange a clinking bag of necat’s that she put it together.

  Spinning on a heel, she headed above decks herself. Striding over to the large bell hooked on the overhang of the bridge, she gave the rope two solid pulls and waited for the troops to snap into a formation. She folded her hands in the small of her back and let them fidget for several heartbeats. “Who commands this vessel?”

  “You do Captain!” they responded instantly.

  “And which of you thought it was a good idea to torture my prisoner?”

  As one, thirty-nine of them took a single step back, leaving Lik Mogdal standing by himself. The deep green skin around his throat bobbed and he fell to a knee, head nearly touching the deck in subjugation.

  He said nothing. His doom was already assured and he knew it.

  She waved a hand and two of the others pulled him to his feet. Without a need to say it, they walked the poor bastard to the rail and unceremoniously tossed him over.

  They returned to the formation, heads up, eyes forward ignoring the splashing screams that eventually drifted into nothingness as the ship continued on its course.

  Poor Lik wasn’t that much of a swimmer.

  “Ma’am?” a soft, feminine voice asked at her elbow. “Might I have permission to care for the prisoner until we arrive home?”

  She looked down her nose at the younger Orc. She hated the bitch, always would, but Haydn had the Chieftain’s ear and if she didn’t grant the request, it might be her turn for a short, cold swim. “You may.”

  The woman spun, her long, blue braid swishing gently in the silence.

  Oda wrapped her hand around her upper arm, pinching hard. “Tend to his wounds, keep him alive, but do not release him. Clear?”

  ***

  Haydn Durel returned to her quarters, gathered up her supplies and slipped below, avoiding her Orc brethren as best she could. Oda’s orders didn’t surprise her, the Abomination in their hold was dangerous, but her agreement that she could care for him, did. She’d already visited him twice during the last rotations, doing what small things she could to help, but now, she had free reign and that skipped her heart against her ribs.

  Slipping across the shadows, she knelt next to the cage and stuck a hand through the bars, giving his upper arm a gentle squeeze.

  He tensed as much as the ropes surrounding him allowed, thick muscles straining to pull away from her fingers. Hate filled golden pools locked with hers and a low growl rumbled up from his wide chest.

  She smiled softly, stroking the filthy flesh. “I will not hurt you.”

  Something snapped through his eyes and water pooled on the lower lids. They slipped closed, pushing the tears out and down his cheeks. He gulped hard enough to rattle the unforgiving metal digging into the front of his neck and she reached in to wipe the water away.

  Grabbing an empty bucket, she headed topside and swept it through the rain barrel, returning as quickly as she could.

  By the Gods he was a mess!

  Her fellow Orc’s had long since cut his clothing to shreds, leaving the dirty rags hanging from his frame in tatters. He stunk to all the Nether Worlds and she could barely hold back a gagging cough. Dipping a rag into the water, she cleaned what she could reach of him.

  It helped, not much, but some.

  The bath finished, she mixed a poultice from her supplies and spread the healing salve over the cuts and stab wounds left by the soldiers.

  They called it Poking The Bear. It was a favored game among bored troops and she’d seen any number of prisoners die from it over the Suns. They’d stand around a caged captive and take turns dropping their knives through the top rungs. If the prisoner wasn’t fast enough to shift aside and it hit, the one who’d dropped the knife scored a point. If the captive managed to dodge the blade, he or she scored a point. And whomever had the most at the end of a round, won a prize.

  For her fellow Orc’s, it was usually whatever coins they’d bet. For the captive, they were left alone for a bit, or sometimes thrown extra scraps of food at the next meal time.

  In this one’s case, he had no place to go and had taken every hit…

  For whatever reason, someone had left him tied within the confines of the cage in such a way that movement, save for his fingers and head was impossible.

  The ropes just above his elbows and below his knees had long since sunk into his flesh from his struggles, threatening to cut off circulation. The skin around and under them had sliced open and it was a wonder he hadn’t dug into an artery and bled to death. The coils over the palms of his hands weren’t so bad, save for trapping his thumbs.

  Oda had said she couldn’t release him. But nothing about easing his suffering.

  Checking over her shoulder to ensure they were alone, she started with his elbows, working the knots loose from either side of the cage.

  His arms flopped away from the bars and he groaned. She gave him as much time as she could while she worked on the ones by his knees. When those were free, his legs relaxed and she scooted back to his arms.

  Reaching through the bars again, she gently peeled the ropes from the wounds. He drew in a sharp breath, but his eyes said he knew she wasn’t intentionally trying to hurt him. A tiny smile even lifted one corner of his mouth once the coils had been removed.

  She hummed a soothing tune as she cleaned the cuts then bandaged them with strips of cloth she ripped from her skirt. She did the same for his legs and with pity in her eyes, reached for new rope. “I am sorry. I have not the permission to free you,” she whispered. “But I can make things better.”

  He groaned and she looked up into his eyes. Fury still raged against the gold but there was just a hint of gratitude in the shimmering pools. She gently pushed his arms together, retying the ropes above the wounds and did the same for his legs.

  She sat back and wiped the sweat off her upper lip. It was hot here, with no ocean breeze to stir the air and the sweat glistened on his chest, despite the cooling bath she’d given him.

  Grabbing the water skin she’d brought, she pulled the stopper out and slipped it through the rungs, tipping it up against the hard cage over his lion-like face. His lips pursed as much as they could within the metal and he tilted his head back, sucking greedily at small spout.

  When had he last been given such a basic thing?

  From the way he was trying to drain it, she’d have to guess several rotations, if not longer. “Easy, easy now,” she whispered, pulling
it away before he could make himself sick.

  He rattled the cuffs.

  She put a hand on his forearm. “I will give you more.”

  He stilled, those golden orbs dropping to the skin and back up several times.

  She smiled patiently and slipped it through the bars again. She badly wanted to take the muzzle off, but didn’t dare.

  Not right now. Maybe in a rotation or two.

  He would not bite her, she could see that in his eyes, but Oda would not be pleased if she did more than she’d already done, so soon.

  When he’d had his fill the second time, she pulled it away.

  He moaned, maybe even whimpered a bit.

  Holding his gaze, she cupped a hand around his cheek.

  It was the best she could do. She just hoped Oda didn’t bother to check…

  ***

  Arin had no idea what the woman’s name was, but for now, decided to call her Neria. Roughly translated it meant to save and seemed appropriately fitting since he’d been on the verge of sinking into a full-out Blood Rage since the moment he’d been taken from the N’val.

  It didn’t cool his fury over the situation, but it did ease up a bit.

  Especially when she returned later on that darkfall.

  After she’d tended to him, retying his legs and arms more comfortably, he’d managed to get some sleep. Something he’d not had much of since being taken from Gahroon because there just simply wasn’t a way to get comfortable. With her intervention though, he was actually able to stretch his legs out and his arms no longer felt like they were going to rip right off his body!

  And, once he relaxed, he was out. Unbelievably, it was the probably the best sleep he’d had since his Lyra…

  No!

  He wouldn’t allow himself to think about her.

  Lanni Heegan was dead. Gone. Passed through the Veil.

  Guilt over an instant of bad decision-making on his part settled in his gut, a hard rock of dread and despair that only fueled his desire for revenge!

  And a fresh blast of rage blanketed his vision in red.