by Dianna Love
Daegan sent a blanket telepathic message to those of his in the area. If your identity as a Belador is still hidden, then continue as you have. I need nothing from you but to remain safe.
He heard a series of acknowledgements, indicating there had to be another twenty Beladors present.
Daegan had always known when to battle and when to retreat. He told Vincent, “Gather the team and bring them with me.”
Clearly receiving telepathic orders, the men rushed to follow Daegan, who walked them toward the dark spot behind the building where he could teleport them out undetected. No point in making this any worse than it was.
They’d made fifteen steps when four police cruisers rushed up the street he’d been heading toward.
A blinding array of lights flashed.
Car doors flipped open and officers spilled out, standing behind the doors with weapons drawn.
Floodlights hit his group from behind.
A man using a mechanical horn called out in a shaky voice, “Stop and put your hands in the air.”
Daegan turned to a small army of law enforcement with impressive-looking weapons held ready to shoot. A helicopter flew fast toward the scene on its way from the center of the city with yet another searchlight beaming down.
He forced himself not to smash the lights.
Heavy-duty trucks roared up from the only other escape route on one side.
Vincent explained, “Those big trucks and the helicopter are part of a SWAT team, sir. Specially trained law enforcement with high-powered weapons. They will not allow us to walk away alive if we confront them.”
Daegan had not heard of SWAT teams, but he had no problem assessing the danger they were in.
“Tell the men to prepare to teleport,” Daegan ordered in a furious voice.
“What about the humans seeing us, sir?”
Daegan’s gaze rolled over the crowd that had silenced. Humans stared at them as if Daegan and his men had butchered children in front of them. The curious pushed close to get a look at strange beings.
“What about them, Vincent? Preternaturals are officially exposed to humans.”
Daegan had greater problems than exposure right now.
He and his men vanished.
Chapter 7
Casidhe smiled even though her heart pounded with trepidation as she waved goodbye to the guide who could go no farther with her, though he’d offered. He reminded her of a Sherpa she’d once trained with in these same remote mountains of the Caucasus range, which separated Europe from Asia. But where this young man with spiraling brown hair dressed in a red fleece pullover, loose-fitting gray pants, and cap influenced by clothes of international mountaineers, the old Sherpa had worn his traditional bakhu, a robe-like covering over his pants.
As her guide waved and headed home, poking his walking stick with each step, she turned to face the rest of this trek alone.
With daylight running out soon, she tugged her backpack higher and tightened the strap across her chest. Time to complete a trek that started unexpectedly in County Galway, Ireland two long days ago.
She stifled her moment of fear at traveling the last twenty-three miles and stared at the daunting landscape. The rough terrain didn’t bother her so much as the obstinate sword hidden inside a scabbard where her backpack rested against her body.
She’d enjoyed a heady moment of power when the sword answered her call, rising up and sliding into the sheath on her back, but the stubborn blade had ignored her otherwise. She had no idea why after all these years of protecting the sword she’d been given by Herrick it had come to life. The fact that it had reinforced her concerns about a powerful pair visiting the archival centre in a small village in County Galway where she spent her days cataloguing ancient history and searching for rare books.
Power hummed steadily in the weapon, but she’d been unable to pull it from the sheath since leaving home.
Regardless, her people had to be informed about the strange visit and the sword showing life.
Those people lived in these mountains.
Picking her way forward, she eyed the sun as it dropped below the glowing edge of the crooked ridgeline far above.
Soft shadows formed over the rugged beauty of brown stone dusted with white from a recent snow unwilling to melt. Patches of dull green dotted the jagged mountains stretching up to the sky.
Every inhale cleansed the city pollutants from her lungs and filled her with a fresh scent riding along the cool air.
Current temperature might be in the sixties right now, but by dark her skin would feel the chill of dropping into the twenties.
She hugged the thick wool coat with the fur collar close to her, thankful Herrick had thought ahead to gift her ten years ago in case she made this trek alone. She stayed in top physical condition to be in shape for a moment like this, which inevitably had come with no warning.
He’d begun telling her as a child what her duty would be and how every warrior must train daily to be ready for any threat.
The young guide had suggested several tourist stops she might wish to visit while here.
She’d thanked him, but this was no vacation. The fewer people she met on this trip, the fewer who knew of her presence here.
Her family had enemies. Dangerous enemies.
The sword on her back humming with power knew something Casidhe did not, but Herrick would have answers.
She hoped.
How could she protect her family if she could not identify the threat?
When she glanced again, the glow across the mountain ridge faded with each step. A black silhouette streaked across the sky with large wings.
She snapped out of her daydreaming.
Herrick would criticize her for losing track of her surroundings. That had been just a bird, right?
But even that far away, the wingspan had appeared wider than she’d expect a natural bird to possess.
Could it have been something preternatural?
No. Not as long as Herrick lived in this area.
Her heartbeat ticked up. She waited to catch another glimpse of the giant bird. After a moment of not seeing it again, she shook off her concern, muttering, “Don't be stupid. Nothin’ unusual. Just a big-ass bird.”
She faulted those two unknown beings who visited the archival centre for causing her jumpiness.
If she’d had time, she would have sent word to Herrick via their complex messaging system managed by humans, such as the Luigsech family who had helped raise her. They’d been loyal to Herrick and his ancestors over many centuries.
But they were human.
She had no idea how to categorize herself beyond other. She’d been born human-looking, but as a child she’d displayed an unusual ability to read languages others could not. More recently, she’d noticed potential new powers manifesting by making her eyes glow when agitated. Herrick had predicted that would happen, but he’d had no answer as to why.
A huge black shadow rolled across her from above, then disappeared again.
Rather than looking up this time, she reached over her shoulders and slid her hand inside the backpack. She curled her fingers around the hilt and asked, “Will you come to me, Lann an Cheartais?”
Humming immediately ceased.
The hilt felt cold, much like a normal sword. Was that a good sign? She tried to withdraw it, but she might as well have been attempting to pull Lancelot’s sword from stone.
That brat on her back wouldn’t budge.
She pulled her hand away and shouldn’t have felt rejected.
But she did.
Frustrating didn’t cover how useless she felt at the moment. Herrick might be angry she’d even brought the sword if she couldn’t use it. She’d sparred with Herrick from very small until she departed the Caucasus at nineteen to study at a university in England, all part of performing her ultimate duty. She’d trained additionally in martial arts. Hand her any normal sword and she’d hold her own with a worthy opponent.
&nb
sp; The Lann an Cheartais, or Blade of Justice, demanded more expertise than that of a human-forged blade, which had been fired and beaten into shape the usual way. This one had been imbued with power for the first female to swing it.
Based on the shadows being thrown around her from a potential predator overhead, she reached for a switchblade in a pocket of her wool pants.
The shadow began to shrink. The bird descended closer to the ground.
Or to its prey.
Casidhe tilted her head back.
A monster vulture circled around her. It looked to have a wingspan of twelve feet.
What natural vulture grew that large?
That eagle-shaped head didn’t fit any other vulture she’d ever seen.
She glanced around for something dead that might be drawing it in. A carcass. Anything a scavenger would be interested in besides her very much alive body.
No dead body of any kind in sight for as far as she could see.
On the vulture’s next low swoop, hairs lifted on her arms. She would not harm a natural creature who did not threaten her life, but this thing could carry a tur off a mountain, if the goat-like animal wandered to the western side of the Caucasus.
At five-eight, she was no tiny woman, but she weighed less than a male tur and had a bad feeling about this vulture’s fixation with her.
Picking up her pace a bit, she tried to not appear as if she ran since running around most predators only excited them.
The damn sword began humming again.
Really?
Keeping an eye on the vulture as it circled high in the air, she began to think it might have dismissed her.
Rejected again. First the sword and now the vulture.
Her ego could only take so much, but she’d happily accept being dissed by that bird if it continued flying away. Just to be safe, she pocketed the knife, which would require close combat, and dipped down to pick up a rock the size of a tennis ball. She had a strong arm and a decent ability to strike a target.
The giant silhouette began to move away from her. Flipping the rock in the air as she hiked over the rugged land, she caught it, smiling over surviving the vulture.
The thought had no sooner cleared her mind when the vulture having flown far out in front of her now banked left in a wide arc, turning right back at her.
She could hardly make out its shape against the dark mountain backdrop. She’d never feared darkness, but terror gripped her at being ripped to pieces by a bird when she could barely see her hand.
Picking up her pace, she dipped into a gulley, then twisted to look up again.
The silhouette changed from gliding up high to the bird now angling her way and folding its wings to dive.
Jumping from the gulley, she took off running hard. No mystique left at this point.
She was prey.
Casidhe ran, leaping over rocks and searching for any place she could shield herself from attack. Her backpack banged against her body and slowed her down.
A loud screech echoed through the valley.
Was it angry at her for running?
She knew the history of the sword buzzing on her back and of the dragon-shifter female who had died protecting her family with it. She knew of the Dragani War from a spoken history passed down from generation to generation of squire families.
She could rattle off the smallest details.
What she didn’t know was how to coax a pig-headed majikal weapon out of its sheath for any hope of saving her butt right now.
No one would know her story. The giant predator would drag her off to pick her bones. A shudder ran through at that vision.
The vulture squawked again.
Would Herrick find the sword once she died?
She’d made it over large boulders and rocks the size of basketballs, but one no bigger than her fist tripped her up. She went sprawling across loose stones and dirt. The rock she’d clutched fell from her fingers and her backpack slid to one side. Torn skin on her palms and face bore the brunt of her misstep.
She looked over her shoulder at the dark sky, scrambling to get back to her feet.
The bird shot toward her like a heat-seeking missile.
Chapter 8
Daegan teleported into Treoir realm with the Beladors who had stood with him in Atlanta during the Ferris wheel incident. Each one appeared near where he stood on the grounds leading up to Treoir Castle.
Belador guards in the realm came running up.
Daegan lifted his hand to halt his guards, then addressed the men standing with him. “As soon as I meet with my Council of Seven, we’ll have a plan for how to protect our people in the human realm. I realize you have families, some of whom are human, and worry for their safety. Would you prefer to stay here until I know more or return right away?”
Vincent said, “I speak for myself, but I’m pretty sure many here agree. I wish to return to Atlanta and protect our people, but I would like to move my human family out of there.”
The other five nodded in agreement.
“Very well, I shall teleport you back. I’ll inform Trey McCree of our plan which will address the human family members first. He’ll alert you immediately. You will have to shield your presence from humans who might recognize you after tonight, especially with media filming everything. Work only in pairs. Trey will schedule times for you to check in. Do not miss those.”
“Yes, sir,” replied all around.
Daegan didn’t like sending them back without him to protect his Beladors, but with everything going to hell, they would be targets after tonight. He had no choice but to comply with their wishes and instructed, “Put your hand on the shoulder next to you. Vincent, envision a specific place for me to teleport your team where you can appear safely.” Once they all clamped a shoulder and Vincent nodded, Daegan sent them on their way.
He turned to Allyn, the guard in charge of Beladors on Treoir. “I want an accounting of how many visitors we can accommodate to spend an extended time here.”
The guards glanced at each other, but Allyn ordered, “You heard him. Get busy. I want all applicable information to me in thirty minutes.”
“Thank you,” Daegan said, striding away.
Before he made three steps, Allyn called out, “Sir? The dragon in the dungeon is making loud noises.”
Daegan had forgotten about that one. “Has he spoken?”
“No, sir. He bangs around and ices all the surfaces in the dungeon. Our warriors fear he will eat them when they deliver food. Tzader took over that task when he learned I had been feeding the dragon. I argued, but Tzader reminded me he was immortal where I am not.”
“I shall deal with it,” Daegan said, sighing. Turning for the castle, he called telepathically to Tristan, who was still in the human realm. I had to teleport to Treoir. What is your status?
Not good, boss. I arrived in Sandy Springs to find a juiced-up troll tossing Devon off a building. I couldn’t get to them fast enough to stop him, but I had six Beladors below use their kinetics to prevent Devon from hitting the ground head-first. The humans saw it all. I’m sorry.
Don’t apologize, Tristan. I had a similar situation. We have much to discuss. Bring any Belador whose identity was exposed here if you feel they’re in danger and they wish to leave. I’m calling an immediate meeting of the council. Tzader and Brina are, of course, here in Treoir. Find the other four council members and teleport them here. Contact me if you require assistance.
Okay, boss.
There had been many possible outcomes for tonight in Daegan’s mind, but tonight had been what Tristan would call a clusterfuck.
Bile rushed up his throat at the terror Renata suffered. The longer Imortiks held her captive, the more she would endure. Ruadh had not calmed, still banging at Daegan to free his dragon and destroy their enemies.
If only he could. But with all his power, he’d still left without freeing Renata.
Just as he’d been helpless to protect his family while trapped in TÅμ
r Medb.
What good was it to be a dragon, the most powerful one to live, and not be able to defend those who looked to him for protection?
Shaking with fury, Daegan teleported to the top of the highest point in Treoir, far from the castle. His fisted hands shook with fury. He dropped his head back to roar. Fire burst from his mouth, shooting high in the air.
Faces of his family flew through his mind. Then Renata’s.
He had held the peace for years and years only to lose everything. Blood colored his world, pounding his failures until his knees threatened to buckle under the weight of memories turned into nightmares. They were all dead and gone.
He screamed, “Noooo!” Fire joined the words, blasting his anguish and fury.
Ruadh had stilled and now asked telepathically, Better now?
“No!” Daegan shouted out loud. “Not until all those who have harmed mine pay with their lives.”
Release me, Ruadh snarled. I will burn them all.
Daegan lowered his arms and heaved hard breaths. “If only I could do so, old friend. We will have our chance, but I will not win this battle if I allow them to kill you or see any weakness. You have been patient. Shift and return to the castle. I need this time to clear my head.”
With that, Daegan’s red dragon burst forth and blasted out a stream of fire far greater than Daegan could do in human form. Ruadh lowered his body then leaped from the cliff and flew over valleys between the mountains. He soared over the gryphon village where the Alterants living there waved and called out to him.
As they crossed the great island of Treoir realm, Daegan surveyed his people. His to protect and he would not let them down. Never again.
As Ruadh approached the castle grounds, guards looked up, no doubt catching the sound of his giant wings.
Guards shouted at each other, scattering as they opened a wide landing area.
Ruadh set his wings and landed in two steps.
Daegan thanked his dragon and shifted into his human form, clothing himself in jeans and a long-sleeved pullover as he headed to the castle. Once he climbed the steps, he pushed open the tall double doors with a shove of his hand.