Dragan

by Plum Pascal

  “Watch her,” I order Baron. “Dragan and I will find the gateway. Wait until Flumph lowers the stone, before you follow. We should assume there are sentries all over the region, thus we’ll need to move quickly.”

  “This isn’t my first trip to the Fae Realm,” Baron hisses through tightly clenched teeth. Sweat beads on his brow as he takes the rope, and the demoness looks on with worry etched on her lovely features. She’s so weak and naïve, yet she remains the most treacherous creature in our midsts.

  “And hopefully it won’t be your last,” I say to him with a quick smile.

  “Just know that if the odds are no longer in our favor, I will leave you all to die,” Baron responds, his eyes narrowed and angry. “My memories may be returning one brutal fucking headache at a time, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not your friend.”

  “I believe you should have already left us,” Dragan barks back at him. Baron doesn’t respond.

  I step away from the surly vampire and slither into position. My senses prickle with an eerie awareness of my surroundings. A flicker catches my eye as a ray of pure moonlight refracts off the Riverine stone. Flumph holds it steady while fractals of color bathe the river in a muted rainbow. The colors flow with the rushing current, but in the water’s surface I see the reflection of a door that rests on the other side of the river. It’s a door hidden behind a veil of magic. Standing beside that door is Raflamir.

  I walk towards the water with Dragan covering my advances, as we planned. He clenches his jaw so tightly, I wonder if his teeth might crack. Would serve the asshole barbarian right if they did.

  As I wade into the water, the reflection reverses. Magic tickles the scarce hair on my arms and, suddenly, I’m standing in the waters of a glittering pool of ethereal energy. Dragan appears at my side and we caution a step toward the door to Earlann.

  Raflamir spots us immediately, and his eyes widen with recognition. He lifts his arms and, in an arch of power, creates a dome over the three of us.

  “Cambion?” he says in dour surprise. “What brings you here?” His voice is rough, and I notice a horizontal scar across his throat that wasn’t there the last time I saw him.

  The years have not been kind to my old friend. “Easy, Raflamir. We aren’t here to cause trouble. I just need a moment to explain.”

  “Explain?” he repeats, shaking his head. “It’s quite well known, brother, that you and the Shadow King are the most wanted men in the realms.”

  “I’m well aware,” I answer quickly. “But, still, I ask you to listen to me.”

  Raflamir points to the scar on his neck. “This is what happens to those who fought beside you in the Great War. I was tortured and sliced open, just for Variant’s entertainment.”

  I swallow hard. Perhaps this visit will be more difficult than I’d imagined. “I’m relying upon our kinship, as Fae, Raflimir. Otherwise I would not have come.”

  The elf waves his hand again and removes a glamour that conceals the true extent of what he endured at Variant’s hands. Scars litter the Steward’s face. One of his eyes is milky and sightless, with a large slash running through it from the top of his hairline to the underside of his chin.

  “I’m sorry to see the extent of the pain you suffered, old friend,” I offer.

  “There are rumors you and the Shadow King have gone mad in your banishment,” Raflamir continues, his good eye shifting from me to Dragan, as though he’s trying to decide if he should put credence into such rumors.

  “If you believe gossip, then why the fuck did you shield us from the sentries?” Dragan demands. Clearly, he doesn’t understand the art of subtlety. But, why would he? He’s an artless barbarian through and through. I don’t understand how I ever considered him a friend. Truly, we have nothing in common and never did.

  As the gargoyle speaks, Raflamir’s gaze never leaves mine. He moves a step forward until the three of us stand only a few inches apart. As an elf, he is smart not to trust shadow creatures or angels after the war. Far too many betrayals against our people have left us paranoid when it comes to outsiders.

  “Because, despite it all, my allegiance is still to the True King.”

  A sigh of relief escapes me as Dragan frowns. Clearly, he doesn’t appreciate Raflamir referring to me as the “True King.” I’m quite certain Dragan thinks of himself as the only True King, and I thrill over his upset.

  I walk back to the water and toss a stone into the pool. On the other side, it should cause an unnatural ripple in the river’s current to signal Baron and the demon. As I watch, the two of them make their way into the pool. The Succubus’ eyes dart about as though she’s a frightened, little mouse. I can practically taste the bitterness of her fear on my tongue.

  She’s a good actress, I’ll say that much for her.

  Raflamir observes her for a moment before his eyes land warily on Baron. “If they cause trouble—”

  “We take full responsibility for our actions,” Dragan snaps. He is quite cranky considering we’ve just found a safe haven.

  I shove in front of him and gesture for Raflamir to open the door and allow us entrance. He hesitates, but only briefly. “When you arrive inside the city, stick to the walls,” he advises. “Move east and speak to no one. You’ll come upon a lean-to with a blue door, warded with runes. There, you’ll find a hot meal and a warm bed when you arrive. Tell Saevel I sent you.”

  He opens the door and the wooden monstrosity groans as it grants us entrance. We walk through, me leading the way, and I quickly approach my old comrade. My hand lifts to his shoulder and though Raflamir flinches, he doesn’t shrug off my hold. “Thank you, my friend.”

  I hope he hears the sincerity in my voice. By allowing us entrance, he risks his own life, and those of the people he cares for. The Steward’s eyes glow for a moment as he nods in turn.

  I thank him once more and lead my campions into the town, being careful to avoid any onlookers. The demon moves closer and I feel her arm brush my knuckles, sending a shock of lust through my body. I grit my teeth, and force the feelings away, for they are unwelcome. She notices the way my shoulders tense, and she offers me a confused expression.

  I wish I did not have the notoriety I do, otherwise I would find a blond woman with a shapely body and have my way with her all evening.

  FIFTEEN

  Baron

  Earlann

  It’s quite obvious that Dragan would prefer I return to my independent ways and quit his and the others’ company. While this was my initial intention, the situation has changed quite substantially—enough to have altered the course of my original plans.

  The second time I held the Transmutation Stone was quite dissimilar to the first. When first I fell victim to the stone’s embrace, I was overcome by feelings, memories and images, all of which were quite foreign to me. The second time, I was visited by Morrigan, the Midnight Queen.

  To say this was quite the shock would be an understatement as I have not heard Morrigan’s dulcet tone since the moment I found myself awakened in my own grave and had to claw my way through splintered wood and moist earth. When, at last, I pulled myself from my forever sleep, I started a new life as Revenant, and never heard the Midnight Queen’s voice again.

  Until now.

  Prior to my interaction with the Transmutation Stone, I did not understand the reason I’d been unceremoniously yanked from the balmy comfort of death. Yes, Morrigan had told me to awaken, had called upon me to do her bidding. But, that was merely the extent of her instruction. After being reborn into a cold and formidable world, I was left to my own defenses, not understanding who I was nor why I’d been brought back.

  Life is not easily lived when you have no direction, no understanding of what it is you’re supposed to do. And for the last one hundred years, I have lived thus—aimlessly traveling, trying to understand my place, trying to find somewhere I fit in.

  Master Ash assisted me, yes, but it was always with the knowledge that he didn’t un
derstand why I’d been brought back just as much as I didn’t understand it. And for that reason, he kept his distance and I kept mine.

  Until the moment I held the Transmutation Stone for the second time, I had no direction, no goal, no idea what fate expected of me.

  But, I do now…

  “You roused me from the grave, then left me to my own defenses all this time,” I accuse the Morrigan when we are both trapped within the magic of the Transmutation Stone.

  “You must understand the time wasn’t right, my Revenant,” she responds, her voice ringing through my ears and bringing me back one hundred years. As though I were experiencing my rebirth all over again, I’m overcome with feelings of anxiety and despair. But, confusion reigns supreme.

  “Then the time is right now?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she nods and though we are in this visionary world together, it’s only Morrigan’s voice I hear. I can’t see her face. The more I try to focus on it, the darker the shadows around her become.

  “Then what is my purpose? What was the reason you brought me back from death?” I ask.

  “You must protect the angel,” she responds.

  I swallow hard. “Eilish?”

  “Yes.”

  “I was brought back to protect her?” I ask, feeling anger begin to boil inside me. All this time, I imagined my fate would be tied to something so much larger, so much more noble.

  “She is not what you think she is,” Morrigan says and by the tone of her voice, it’s apparent she can detect my irritation.

  “She’s an angel demon hybrid,” I respond.

  “Yet, she is so much more.”

  “Regardless, why bring me back one hundred years ago?” I demand. “Eilish hasn’t even been alive that long!”

  “I do not control the passing of time, Revenant,” she responds, her voice harsher this time. “I could not say when the angel would find her way to your world. Thus, I acted as quickly as I could with the hopes that I wasn’t too late. And, it just so happens that I was quite early.”

  “One hundred years early,” I mutter.

  “Indeed.”

  “Tell me more about my purpose,” I demand.

  “The angel must survive. She’s the answer to unseating Variant and returning the balance to the realms.”

  “Then I’m to be her bodyguard?” I ask gruffly.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought that position was already taken by Dragan?”

  There’s doubt in Morrigan’s voice when she responds. “I thought perhaps such would be the case as well, but the gargoyle has proven himself to be unreliable.”

  “Because he turned on her?”

  “Because he turned on her.”

  “But he’s still enthralled with her and I doubt he’d allow a hair to be harmed on her head.”

  “Perhaps, but the angel is too important to place her safety in the hands of a man who may or may not see her worth. You, however, have remained loyal. Once she was revealed to be more than just angel, you did not turn your back on her.”

  “If anything, I felt closer to her,” I agree.

  “Yes, because you were meant to protect her.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “Even I am not privy to the reasons behind some of my actions,” she explains. “When I aroused you from your forever sleep, it was with the understanding that it had to be done. I was not certain of the reason at the time and have only stumbled upon the meaning now. We must accept the fact that not all things are meant to make sense to us at the time we experience them. Meaning can and usually does come with time.”

  “Then this is my purpose?”

  “This is your purpose,” she agrees. “But there is more.”

  “More?”

  “You are the harbinger of death—you are animated by death shadows. Now that Eilish has revealed the shadows that pump within her veins, she will need your guidance as well as your acceptance. You are not only meant to be her guardian, but you are meant to be her teacher, her guide.”

  “What is there to teach her?”

  “How to harness her power, how to realize the full potential of the shadows within her. She needs to learn what it means to be Succubus.”

  “I don’t have the first idea what it means to be Succubus. I might be death but I’m not demon.”

  “The shadows that animate you are the same that animate her. Dig deeply enough and you will find the answers.” She falls quiet for another few long seconds. When she speaks this time, her voice sound distant. “I know this information disappoints you.”

  “I thought I was destined for something far more important.”

  “As far as the safety, prosperity and balance of the three realms, there is no destiny more important than hers,” she responds in a mere whisper.

  “That’s it, then?”

  “Help her, protect her,” Morrigan continues. “There are powers that already reach out to her, powers that are stronger even than me.”

  “Powers?”

  “Silvanus,” she answers.

  “I don’t know that name.”

  “You will come to know it in time,” she affirms. “Silvanus has already latched his claws into her and due to his power, I’ve lost the connection I once had with her. Silvanus acts as a barrier between the girl and me and I haven’t been able to breach that barrier.”

  “That’s why you’ve come to me?”

  “You’re my only option, Revenant.”

  ###

  Eilish

  Earlann

  I find myself standing on a cobblestone road. I’m surprised Raflamir didn’t recognize Baron. True, Baron kept his face down the entire time Cambion and Dragan interacted with Raflamir, but I’m surprised all the same. Of course, I suppose if you know someone is dead, the last thing you expect is to find said dead man suddenly showing up on your doorstep.

  I shelve the thoughts and face a town that looks similar to Geldinstock, the town where we first came into contact with Cambion. Only this town looks like a bomb hit it.

  There are numerous one-story, thatched-roof huts that appear to be made of some type of clay. Many of the structures have been destroyed, their walls caved in and the furniture within them strewn about. Very few boast intact roofs. And where gardens once welcomed visitors, now there are no flowers—just stumps of dead trees, brown skeletons of bushes and dirt.

  I wonder as to why the town’s citizens haven’t cleaned up the wreckage. Then I wonder if Variant wants things this way—a town in ruin to remind the citizens just what he’s capable of?

  “My God,” Cambion whispers in surprise. Clearly, the town looks entirely different than it did the last time he visited.

  “Looks like Variant left his indelible seal,” Dragan says as he glances around, and frowns.

  Dragan and Cambion flank me even though Baron, who walks behind us, still holds the ropes to my wrists.

  It’s hard not to feel like anything more than an object, a means to an end. I know Dragan and Cambion want their revenge against Variant. I know they want to restore the balance, and so do I, but the resentment and animosity coiling around us grates on my nerves. And, where once I felt like the champion to their cause, I now feel like a lowly rodent. I can tell Cambion doesn’t believe I’m worth a damn to them anymore. Dragan could feel the same way, too, for all I know.

  It’s all so unfair! And I absolutely hate the injustice.

  I never chose to be what I am. A Succubus or an angel, or whatever else courses through my veins. The cold glares, the angry comments, and the fleeting sneers are too much. I feel them like physical blows.

  Flumph stays near me. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend now, and I’m grateful for his presence. I feel Baron press his hand against my lower back in an attempt to hurry me along because apparently I’ve started lagging.

  Images and visions threaten to push past the defenses of my conscous mind, but I won’t allow them. I’m not in the mood. But, I’m also not surprised the visions want to come. W
hen Baron’s touched me in the past, I’ve seen things—thoughts and memories from his mind that invaded mine. Baron and I have a connection that neither of us understands, but it’s there all the same.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Baron whispers from behind me.

  It’s the first thing he’s said to me since I broke the Transmutation Stone and it takes me by surprise. His words are soft, and fill me with a sense of calm I was previous lacking. I turn around to look at him and smile my thanks. He holds my gaze and simply nods.

  I realize Baron’s hand still rests on my back. I cast a glance over my shoulder at him again. He’s handsome. Undeniably so.

  But he’s hard, and his beauty is one that seems untouchable. He’s untouchable. And there’s something about that feral quality to him that pushes me away in the same way it attracts me. I can’t explain it.

  I follow his eyes as they trail up and down the length of my legs. When Baron catches me watching him, he turns his head. I wait for him to hurl insults and accusations at me about my being Succubus which is the reason he can’t take his eyes off me, but the insults never come.

  My foot catches on a crack in the cobblestone and I gasp as I start to lose my balance. Immediately, Dragan’s arms wind around my waist to steady me. He just as quickly releases me, yanking his hands away as though I’ve burned him. Then he clears his throat and feigns extreme interest in his surroundings.

  Cambion glares at me with his striking gaze, and I feel a shiver race down my spine. He quickly turns away again to continue leading our motley crew up the uneven road until he stops in front of a collapsing hovel with a blue door. It’s exactly as Raflamir described it.

  Runes cover the wood and Cambion brushes them with his hand. Light flashes across the dark planes of oak, and the door creaks open of its own accord. Once the door opens, I focus on the shape of a woman, where she stands at the center of the room. She motions for us to enter. Dragan and Cambion share an unreadable glance.

  I hear Dragan curse under his breath as Cambion mutters something unintelligible.

  “Raflamir sent us,” Cambion announces, by way of greeting.