3- Treoir Dragon Chronicles of the Belador World

by Love, Dianna

  Daegan yelled back at her, “Did ya see this with your own eyes? Did your dragon fight my red dragon?”

  When she didn’t answer, he said, “I thought not. If so, ya would have known ’twas not my dragon.”

  She crossed her arms and stared out at the sea. “Your words are only words. Everyone knows you started the Dragani War.”

  “I did not.” Daegan had suffered much over the thousands of years since being captured, but he would allow no one to hold him responsible for a war he did not start. “I tried to find out who wanted us warrin’ each other.” He walked slowly toward her. “I am glad ya live. I would like to know how ya survived and to make peace. I would ask ya to help protect our future.”

  The scorn she turned on him should have singed his skin. “I have no future.”

  “Ya could. Ya could have that and build a family again.” Daegan had not wanted her back then any more than he did now, but ... he had to consider his limited options. There stood a woman he could mate with to protect all dragons and his people. He would accept a marriage of alliance and treat her well to secure the future of everyone.

  Her blue eyes fired up. “A future with you? I would not have you if you were the last dragon in this world.”

  Daegan opened his arms. “See any others?”

  Her face screwed up and she yelled, “I hate you!” With that, she shifted quickly into her dragon, took a hop, and flew away.

  He called to her telepathically. Do not go, Brynhild.

  I do not need you or anyone.

  Daegan cursed and sent back, Do not fly around humans. They have giant flying machines called jets that can explode your dragon.

  She didn’t reply, but her dragon vanished.

  Cloaked.

  Daegan’s jaw slipped open.

  Tristan walked up with hair plastered to his head, the shadow of a beard, and naked after what appeared to be a partial shift. He held his arm against his chest. “I take it you did not know she could cloak her dragon.”

  “No.”

  “Wait until I tell you everything I found out.”

  Daegan wanted to learn all his second had to share, but he would first attend to Tristan’s injuries. “Is your arm broken?”

  Tristan moved his arm to reveal a bloody stump at his wrist. “No. Cathbad made a manacle that prevented me from shifting, teleporting, anything. I was trying to escape when we landed here. I shifted into my gryphon as far as I could, but not that arm. I couldn’t teleport, so I ... ”

  “Ya bit off your hand to free yourself.”

  “Yep.”

  “Are ya healin’?”

  “A little.”

  Ruadh growled and snarled inside him.

  Daegan could appreciate his dragon’s disgust over breaking bones in his tail and seeing their gryphon friend without a hand while Brynhild flew away. “Let me have your hand.”

  Tristan grimaced and held out his arm. Daegan clasped his hands around the cold stump. Ruadh pushed energy into his fingers.

  Heat built under Daegan’s hands.

  Tristan had been pale, but now turned white and looked close to passing out.

  When Daegan pulled his hand away, the bleeding had stopped and muscle began repairing. “’Tis still storming enough to hide ya. Try shiftin’ into your gryphon.”

  Blowing out a series of fast breaths as he stalled, Tristan’s face showed the strain of calling up his gryphon. He shifted, slowly, but he made it all the way. Wings opened wide from his lion-shaped body. Dark-gray translucent scales covered the gryphon’s body, which would blend with the storm clouds. Tristan lifted an eagle-shaped head and opened a wide beak to release a loud scream of agony. His gryphon stood on a single front leg and two hind legs, flapping wings just enough to remain stable, tail flicking in the wind.

  The damaged limb without a paw started to heal slowly.

  Daegan had hoped to stay here an hour or longer, but the rain began to subside.

  Humans in aircraft would see them at some point.

  Tristan realized it, too, shifting back to his human form. He looked at the end of his forearm, which no longer bled. Just skin over the stump with five bumps where fingers would regrow. He said, “Not so bad. I think the base of my hand is trying to grow.”

  Giving him a light slap on the back, Daegan said, “I am glad ya survived.”

  “Me too, but ... ” Tristan lifted an embarrassed face to Daegan. “I didn’t want to at first.”

  “Why?”

  “Cathbad planned to turn me into a polymorph like that weird warlock who changed shapes the night we got Quinn’s daughter back.”

  Disgust burned in Daegan’s gut.

  Tristan nodded. “Yep. I would have been the worst nightmare for you and our people, because he could have made me look like your dragon and compelled me to enter Treoir to attack everyone.”

  Daegan pushed water off his face and shoved wet hair out of his eyes. He searched the sky and ocean for any human contraptions coming toward them. None yet. “I am very, very glad to have ya back. Do ya know if Cathbad has another flyin’ creature he’s made to resemble my red dragon?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I think he tweaked Brynhild. I saw her dragon shoot a short blast of fire.”

  That brought Daegan’s head around to Tristan. “What do ya say?”

  “Crazy bastard. Cathbad had us in a cave with a big frozen pond. I pieced together what I think happened. If I’m right, that druid glamoured Brynhild to look like a red dragon and he gave her the ability to shoot some fire. My gryphon can produce a little, but nothing like yours. Hers is way more than mine. She didn’t sound happy about him doing that to her and hates Cathbad. Evidently, the druid saved her from your time and somehow kept her alive in that frozen pond the entire two thousand years. Might be why she’s batshit crazy.”

  Daegan smiled for the first time in days. “She is that. Do ya want clothes?”

  “Yes. Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt would be nice.”

  In the next few seconds, Tristan wore jeans, a dark-blue pullover, and boots. Daegan had used little power to do such. He could not trust his full powers in a battle, but he would test them constantly to see what capabilities he had.

  What a shame about Brynhild.

  Daegan had felt a tinge of hope at the chance to have a mate and family even if he cared no more for Brynhild than she did for him.

  But he did not hate her where she wanted him dead.

  Not a match worth any sacrifice.

  Part of him longed to believe other dragons lived besides him and Brynhild, but he had doubts about another female.

  Hell!

  He hadn’t told her about Skarde. On second thought, that may not be something to share yet.

  Tristan’s teeth chattered and it had nothing to do with being wet or cold.

  Daegan said, “Teleportin’ has been slow, but I shall give it a try.”

  Tristan could only nod with his arms folded across his chest.

  Just as Daegan predicted, teleporting took a while before they appeared inside the front room of the ancestral centre. They both dripped puddles.

  He told Tristan, “The Luigsech woman is here. She should have some food around and a towel for dryin’ off.”

  Daegan called out, “I have returned.”

  No answer.

  Prickly woman did not answer.

  He walked into the rear area, thinking she had her nose so deep in a book she paid no attention. “Luigsech.”

  Stillness answered him.

  He remembered what Reese had seen in her remote vision and hurried to the back wall of the room where a bookcase supposedly hid the entrance to a secret exit.

  A large section of bookcase hung away from the wall as if torn open.

  He pulled the not-so-secret door now all the way open and inhaled deeply.

  His lungs filled with a recent scent of aiteann, part of Luigsech’s unique smell.

  Gone. Again.

  Chapter 8

/>   Cathbad began kinetically clearing away more debris left in the wake of Brynhild’s rage before she’d escaped the cavern. She’d found a way past his ward protecting the entrance he’d thought would prevent her from leaving.

  She did not possess the ability to teleport.

  He sighed. How had a simple plan gone so astray?

  Once he had most of the wreckage moved aside, he surveyed her hoard of gold and other treasures. Her shield had been placed in a prominent spot in front of her massive pile.

  Why had she left her coveted shield behind?

  Only one answer made sense. She had not been able to move any of this during her escape. It would have required many trips to transport her treasure.

  She knew Cathbad could easily uncover her hoard, so the shield had been left as a message.

  She warned him to not take one piece.

  It certainly appeared that she would return at some point, but would that be in this millennium?

  He spotted a distinctive yellow item sitting on the floor between the now-empty chains where manacles had held Tristan captive and Brynhild’s pile of gold. Cathbad lifted his Imortik stick with three claws on the end.

  Had Brynhild used this on Tristan?

  This weapon did not belong to her.

  He called the stick to him and caught the handle when it slapped his hand.

  Next, he located parts of the leather reading chair he’d brought her that she’d clearly not appreciated. When he had the chair reassembled, he sat and stretched out his legs while he figured out what she’d done.

  He would have placed a ward over more than the mouth of the cavern to prevent Brynhild from leaving had he thought she could teleport. To ward this entire cavern would have required a huge amount of energy when he’d seen no reason for it.

  She could definitely cloak her dragon while flying. He’d gifted her dragon the ability to shoot out fire in short blasts for temporary periods. She’d shown little appreciation for those efforts, too.

  Cathbad’s gaze roamed to the bloody wall where Tristan had been chained. That Alterant-gryphon could teleport, the only Alterant Cathbad knew of who possessed the ability.

  Brynhild would not have freed Tristan unless she had a way to take advantage of his teleportation ability without him escaping her.

  Had she offered a trade to help him escape if he led her to Daegan? That would have been a foolish idea.

  Tristan had become Daegan’s shadow since that dragon broke free of Queen Maeve’s curse.

  But clearly Tristan had teleported Brynhild out of the cavern. She could have tortured him into agreeing while he still hung from the chains, but to do so would not result in Tristan’s compliance once she freed him.

  Cathbad had to give her credit for pulling that off. He rose from the chair and stalked the room, needing to be on the move. He’d left Brynhild here so he could meet with Queen Maeve.

  This loss hadn’t been worth that trip.

  Not when Queen Maeve had played with him while he’d tried to access her scrying wall.

  He still had no idea if that crazy goddess had been watching him with her wall. He didn’t believe she could see inside this cavern or anywhere else he’d warded, but she might have seen him moving about.

  Did that ice dragon possess any other power besides cloaking?

  He didn’t know, just as he had no idea exactly how Brynhild had manipulated Tristan to help her escape. Now she would go after that red dragon to kill Daegan, which would ruin Cathbad’s plans. Or she may have managed to make Tristan teleport her out, then killed the gryphon and was currently enjoying her freedom while Daegan came for Cathbad’s head.

  His pacing finally inspired an idea.

  She did not have her freedom entirely.

  Walking over to face the middle of her pile of treasures, he pointed a finger, using kinetics to search her stack. Deep inside, he found a solid-gold platter with black embellishments in the shape of her family crest.

  She would not leave behind anything specific to her family.

  Taking his time and using his own blood, he placed a spell on the platter, which would allow him to locate the treasure in this world at any time.

  It wasn’t as if she had another realm to hide her hoard in.

  He returned each treasure to its original location without disturbing the pile or her shield.

  With that done, he had no reason to spend more time here.

  He teleported outside again to stand where the magnificent Himalayas filled the world from horizon to horizon. Snowcapped mountains painted a stunning image, more spectacular than those in travel magazines for humans. Frost began to form on his eyelashes and beard.

  He’d loved this area for many centuries, returning when he needed time to rest or ... plan his next move, as he did now.

  When would Brynhild return?

  If he left the ward in place, she would not move any of her hoard.

  Stepping around, he walked up to the entrance of the cavern. He shoved his hand into the ward, calling out the words to destroy it.

  A huge boom echoed over and over. Snow on nearby peaks shook loose, barreling down in clouds of white powder.

  Now she would have access whenever she wanted.

  He would as well.

  Cathbad! Your presence is requested at the Tribunal.

  At the sound of Loki’s voice, Cathbad regretted his decision to step outside the warded cavern, which had prevented anyone from using telepathic communication.

  Loki did not make requests. That god made demands.

  Cathbad had to seriously consider the risk of replying.

  Daegan or one of his minions, such as Quinn, could be standing in a Tribunal demanding Cathbad return the Belador Alterant-gryphon. To attend that meeting might require him to tell the truth about what happened to Tristan. Liars suffered severe consequences, which often resulted in death even for an immortal.

  That was not the place to admit he’d hidden a dragon for two thousand years when dragons had been known as god killers.

  If he failed to respond, Loki would send his lapdog, Sen.

  Cathbad could handle the arrogant demigod, but doing so would put him at war with a Tribunal of powerful deities.

  Or ... what if Queen Maeve had found one volume of the grimoire and made a deal with the Imortik master?

  The Tribunal might believe Cathbad had been involved with Queen Maeve’s pursuit of the majik book. At the very least, they would ask him if he was currently searching for the grimoire.

  Replying affirmatively to that question would be just as dangerous as lying.

  Chapter 9

  “That blasted woman has run off again,” Daegan shouted and strode out of the rear library area into the front of the centre.

  “We can find her, boss.” Tristan’s injured hand remained tucked protectively against his body. Worse than injured. He’d been forced to bite off his own hand in gryphon form.

  Cathbad would pay dearly for all the pain he’d inflicted.

  Daegan stopped short.

  “What, boss?”

  “A subtle scent near the hidden door to her escape tunnel had been Cathbad’s, but I took it to be from a past visit. What if the druid came for Luigsech?” Worry pushed in so hard it shoved his fury away. He could see Cathbad torturing a woman just as he’d harmed Tristan.

  Tristan focused, searching the room. “I’m picking up a hint of a past visit from Cathbad. Do you sense his power signature here now?”

  Daegan opened his senses wide now and identified the faint power signature belonging to Cathbad. Daegan had been correct in thinking it older than Luigsech’s more recent scent. “The druid was here before, but in the past. I do not think he has returned today.”

  “That fits. I’m not sure Cathbad would be available right now,” Tristan mused aloud. “I think he has his hands full dealing with Brynhild leaving his secret cave. Seems to me, Cathbad would take a step back now that you’re involved and leave Casidhe free to hunt t
he grimoire. Then he could pop in at the last minute to steal it.”

  Too many possibilities. Daegan had to find Casidhe and he had to heal Tristan, but he could not expend too much energy or he could help no one. “Ya need to let me do more with your hand.”

  “Nope. I will heal. That venom must be draining your power. That was a really slow teleport.”

  Tristan had a point.

  Daegan couldn’t help Casidhe until he could find her and should not draw on his power right now short of a life or death situation. His gaze went to Tristan’s hand. He could not tolerate his second in so much pain. Besides the ravaged stump for a hand, black and blue bruising covered half Tristan’s skin. He slumped when he normally stood tall.

  Daegan produced a towel and handed it to his second. “Shed those clothes and dry off.”

  “Gladly.” Once Tristan had dried his skin, Daegan replaced the jeans, a long-sleeved dark-green pullover, and boots. He cringed at how slowly each piece appeared on Tristan’s body.

  Tristan cocked his eyebrow. “I appreciate the effort, but I can wear wet clothes and save your energy.”

  “’Tis not a waste of power for ya.” Daegan brushed it off as a simple decision, but appreciation glowed in Tristan’s bright green eyes. One day, his second-in-command would understand the great value Daegan placed on him for so many reasons, friend topping that list.

  Still disturbed by the hand Tristan ripped off to free himself of Cathbad’s majik, Daegan asked, “Let me see your hand.”

  Tristan held out the damaged nub.

  Daegan frowned. “Ya must heal before we put you at risk again.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Tristan tried to sound unconcerned.

  “No, ya won’t,” Daegan argued. “I need ya fully healed. Ya must go to Garwyli. He shall heal ya.”

  Tristan smiled at him. “Your brogue or accent, whatever you call it, has shown up more since returning to your homeland.”

  “Nothin’ has changed. Ya are daft from pain.”

  Mimicking Daegan, Tristan said, “Ya must go to Garwyli. He shall heal ya.”

  Daegan smiled in spite of everything driving him crazy. “I missed your twisted wit.”

  Tristan grinned. “I’m back.”