by Dianna Love
“What of the two beings who visited the archival centre? Is that not a threat?”
“No. The red dragon was the only of our kind who possessed teleportation. Had those two been connected to him, he would have teleported to Casidhe immediately. They were treasure hunters, like others before them. You say the red dragon is now free. If he hunts the Luigsech line from those who served his father, all but one died out and that line is the one I brought with me to the castle and protect to this day. No one can find them. The other Luigsechs of the world today are descended from a separate branch of the tree. Do not forget our agreement, seer.”
She lifted a hand sharply. “Never insult me. If I intended to break faith with you, it would not be to inform Casidhe. I am not the one lying to her.” The seer tapped her lip with a long cobalt blue fingernail. “Casidhe is strong and her gifts are just now coming to the surface. Only time will show if she can manage those gifts, but the day will come when you regret having used her this way.”
He stilled. “What day? Have you seen somethin’?”
Slowly shaking her head, the seer said, “I need no vision for this. She will learn the truth in a way not of your choosing.”
Herrick struggled under the weight of trying to find his brother and protect his people. All warriors knew the risk of duty. Casidhe would finally have a chance to embrace her destiny. How could the seer not realize this? “You act as if I have not done well by the girl. I raised her and, when the time came, I sent her to the university.”
“You did that to shield her ability to see words and translations in a way no one else does.”
“Exactly,” he snapped. “How can you condemn me for givin’ her a chance to use that gift? She enjoys what she does. She has never had to earn a penny. I provide for her and Fenella. I pay all the costs for the archival centre and give them more than fair wages.”
Angry all over again, the seer dropped her hands and leaned toward him, speaking in a low voice. “Do not dress up what you have put in motion as noble or kind. Every decision you have made has been for your and Skarde’s benefit. At least one powerful supernatural has already found her. It may be no threat, but if one finds her, others will as well.”
Herrick began to seriously worry about time sliding away. He could not allow the seer to follow him when he left this hallway. This had to end soon.
He argued, “Casidhe did not even meet the Cavan couple. They don’t know she exists. Fenella would probably have figured out if it had been an enemy of mine.”
“You may have more enemies than you know. If the red dragon finds Casidhe and sees that sword she carries, he may realize she is his enemy. That will lead him here.” The seer held his gaze for a second as if debating on her next words then shook it off. “That dragon will want what you hide in your lair.”
He’d been so shocked, he failed to hide his reaction. “What are you talkin’ about?”
“I have seen flashes of your underground room in my dreams for years, but not what you have placed there. Last night, when I touched the sword and saw the red dragon fly free, I knew then what you have stolen belongs to the red dragon.”
Recovered, Herrick drew himself up and gave her a flat look. “What do you think you saw?”
“It is not what I saw, but what I did not see.”
He was out of time. “I am finished with this topic. Casidhe is my responsibility.”
The seer snapped right back, “I will remind you of those words when we bury her.”
Herrick breathed a sigh of relief when the shrew spun on her heel and strode off. He wound his way through the castle toward the back wall where the structure had been built against a mountain.
His dragon-shifter ancestor, who raised this castle, had enjoyed resting in his lair inside the mountain. No one was ever allowed in the area, except Herrick. His people realized he asked for few things, privacy being one. They had always respected his rule to never enter his lair.
When he reached the area where an arched walkway had been carved into the stone, oil lamps on poles lit the tunnel. Each one had been stabbed into the rocky wall every fifty feet of the way.
He’d passed three flaming torches when he came to stone steps descending into a deeper part. The cool air smelling of dampness had always been a welcome change to him, when others would have missed the fresh air outside the castle. He felt safe here, which had taken a long time to soothe his soul after losing his family.
His feet knew these steps well, having visited this area every two days since completing this area of his lair after the Dragani War. Nothing had changed in the dun-colored surfaces.
As he passed through the tall stone tunnel and turned to a narrow opening, energy shimmered around him from the ward he’d placed to prevent anyone else passing this way.
Another turn to his left sent him down forty-three steps, where he entered a much colder chamber dark as a bottomless pit.
Four torches always glowed here, but he could find his way with his eyes shut.
The oblong cavern spread out a hundred feet ahead and sixty feet wide with a forty-foot-high ceiling. He strolled forward, enjoying the simple quiet every time he entered this hidden chamber.
The seer’s words burned in his gut.
She knew nothing or she would have said more.
At the end of his walk, he paused in front of what appeared to be a solid stone wall just in case anyone managed to breach his ward at the top of the stairs. He wished for his sister’s gift of invisibility to allow him to visit any time unnoticed. Brynhild had inherited that gift to use in dragon form from their jinn mother. His sister should have shifted and turned invisible when the castle came under attack in the Dragani War.
He’d seen her headless body with his other two sisters.
The protective shield he stared at now had come from a spell his beautiful and powerful mother had taught him for when he had needed to cloak something for a long time. The only downside was the item had to be stationary or he’d have used it on himself when traveling.
He missed his mother’s wisdom and sweet smile.
Lifting his hands with fifteen minutes to spare, he murmured words he’d uttered over and over for two thousand years to protect this treasure. He’d written them down the first year, but those words were carved into the inside of his skull.
He’d actually hoped the red dragon would defy Queen Maeve and escape her realm. Now that Daegan had done so, he was the one person who could find Skarde.
This treasure would force him to do Herrick’s bidding.
An iridescent cloud of moving energy appeared, replacing the stone wall, but not even he could pass through that sparkling fog. This majikal enclosure had been created by a mage and a druid he’d brought here during his first months in the castle.
He’d given them specific instructions then left them for five days to figure out how to do what they claimed to be impossible.
To motivate them, he’d warned that his dragon would go after their families if they failed.
In truth, he would not have done so, because the mage and druid had not wronged him.
But a dragon warning had always been effective.
At the end of five days, Herrick returned to find them flat on their backs, gasping for air. Neither were past their forties in age, but their hair had turned white and some had fallen out. Skin on their faces, arms, and legs had wrinkled. Once they stirred to life and managed to hold down water and food he’d brought, Herrick had questions.
The mage and druid explained there was one way to open this energy field and that key could be used only one time.
Once they’d answered all of his questions, he’d lifted a stone humming with majik, which he’d acquired for a single use. Murmuring the words he’d been taught, he removed their memories of the castle and what they’d done. When they fell into a deep sleep, he carried them out then his dragon flew them home.
Gazing now upon the iridescent energy field, he realized the field had begun
to lose illumination. He pulled back his sleeve and extended his arm where the druid had tattooed the Berkana runic design on his forearm with spelled ink. He opened his palm out flat and pushed his hand and forearm into the swirling fog.
The mist galvanized around his arm and spiked sharp needles into his skin, all shooting toward the symbol.
He gritted his teeth and fought against the shout of pain working up his throat. Sweat beaded on his face and streamed down into his beard. Tears pooled in his eyes, but a warrior never succumbed to pain.
It seemed to last for hours, when in truth the time to reinforce the power of this wall required a mere minute. When the stabbing needle sensation vanished, he sucked in several deep breaths and withdrew his arm. The tattoo glowed for a second then returned to its natural inked state.
Using the hem of his shirt to wipe his face dry, he stepped back to watch the iridescent fog as it smoked and swirled faster again.
After a few moments, the fog calmed and became filmy until an opening appeared for him to view the protected contents of this cocoon.
Nothing had changed with the skin as smooth and perfect as it had been two millennia ago, just as he’d been assured by the mage and druid.
Fiery red hair flowed around her face as if a fairy wind played with the strands. The emerald gown had not faded a bit since the day he’d captured her.
The same day Skarde had gone missing at King Gruffyn’s castle.
The red dragon either knew where Skarde was or could find him. Herrick had the one thing to bring that dragon to his knees.
Daegan’s sister, Jennyver.
Chapter 14
Daegan teleported into the cool air of a dark passageway inside his father’s castle in Meath. The first inhale brought a flood of memories.
Empty, murmured through his mind.
Daegan whispered, “No.” Faces of his father and sisters flooded his mind. The haunting laughter of his sisters, older by a year, running around on their rare visits echoed in the hollow space. His father calling out to him to watch over them time and again. Reminding him he was their guardian. Their eyes stared at him unmoving in death.
Daegan grabbed his head. His mind screamed with anguish and pain of all he’d left behind. He’d failed them.
A sudden flush of power knocked him to his knees.
Ruadh’s deep voice pushed inside his head. Empty.
His dragon had been trying to get through to him.
Struggling to his feet, Daegan caught his breath and said, “Yes. Empty.” He had forgotten Tristan.
Tristan appeared next to him. “You okay, boss? What took so long to teleport me?”
Daegan cleared his throat, glad Ruadh had shocked him back to the present. “I was not sure this passage would be clear.”
“It’s still better than jet lag,” Tristan joked, which meant he would not question Daegan more. Opening his palm, Daegan called up a spark of energy that turned into a flame.
The light glowed enough for him to make out the walls, floor, and ceiling not far from his head. This had seemed so much larger when he’d hidden in here once as a child. He took three steps to find a candle half burned. It might not have been lit since he lived here. He brought the flame to life and extinguished the one on his palm.
Tristan put his hand on the stone wall in the space not wide enough to stretch out both arms. He spoke softly. “Did you miss your landing spot, boss?”
“No.” Daegan scowled. “This is a hidden escape route from my father’s bed chamber.”
“Where does it go?”
“There are two paths. One leads to an underground tunnel where his people could escape the castle if being attacked, but that was before I came along. The other direction takes you up to the battlements.”
“What are battlements?” Tristan asked, still not appearing too sure about their location.
“It’s the area at the top of the castle structure where warriors defended against an attack.”
Tristan said, “Ah. The roof.”
“Your architectural history could use some work.” Daegan’s lips lifted in a reluctant smile. “Follow me.” He led the way. He inhaled the dank air and his mind wandered to a time when he’d believed he lived at the top of the world, and the food chain.
The deadliest dragon of his time.
His red dragon had squashed uprisings and flown nonstop to maintain peace in the region. Not just for his family, but for the vulnerable friends, nearby villages, castle folk, and allies he’d been born to also protect.
That had been the only reason for his birth.
To protect the weak and those in need.
He’d failed.
Castle empty! Ruadh growled, snapping Daegan back to the moment.
He growled back, but his dragon had the right of it. He could not fix yesterday, only today.
At one point, the passage continued until he had to choose to take the steps on his left descending or ascend a circular stairway on his right. He turned to go up, stepping into the open space inside of a turret where a gentle breeze ruffled his hair.
“Great lookout post,” Tristan noted, coming up right behind him.
“True. ’Tis called a turret. Take care not to show your face.” Daegan stared out over the lush hillsides covered in a rich shade of green he believed only existed on this island. The forest far below the castle still grew thick and full. He recalled the days of clearing new tree growth from the hill leading up to the castle, which prevented the enemy from approaching unnoticed.
No one who resembled the villagers of his time walked the path to the castle today. No sheep or cattle grazed in the open land tended to by a young shepherd.
No families lived here anymore.
Tristan took it all in, too. “So this was home? Did your dragon land in the yard down there?”
“’Tis the bailey.” Daegan glanced at the area Tristan indicated. “That stone wall around the land next to the castle is called a curtain wall.”
Tristan grinned at him. “Feels good to be the one who knows the lay of the land here, doesn’t it?”
Daegan returned his grin. “Yes. I admit ’tis often annoying in this new world. So many terms, gadgets, vehicles, and airplanes, none of which I had ever heard of.”
“Yeah, I would have been totally lost if I were sent back in time,” Tristan murmured, drawing Daegan’s attention to the camaraderie he had only enjoyed once in his life with Fadil.
That friend had attacked him on the last day they spoke.
Tristan would lay his life down for Daegan. Of all the pain this trip brought him, Daegan would prefer no one else along with him than his second-in-command.
Tristan was a true friend.
White tents covered the area of the bailey once kept clear for his dragon to land. Tables had been set up with a variety of offerings on each one. Throngs of people went from one spot to the next with large paper bags hanging from their arms. Children waited in line at one table as a woman painted on a boy’s face.
The smell of food he recognized from Atlanta reached him, but not aromas from a time when Daegan had lived here. “What is all that going on below?”
Leaning to where he could see through one of the slots in the parapet wall, Tristan said, “Your dad’s castle is now a tourist destination. Just checked my phone. It’s a little after nine. A nice Sunday for tourists to be out. Looks like a fair of some sort in the ... bailey.”
Seeing the desecration of his father’s home punched him in the gut.
Ruadh’s voice smoked through Daegan’s mind. Wish to return to our time.
Daegan paused at his dragon’s words. Would he go back two thousand years if he had the choice?
Part of him longed to see the family he’d lost once more, while the other part gave thanks for what he had today. After the Beladors, who became his council, rescued him from TÅμr Medb, they’d accepted him as their dragon king.
His anger seeped away. He could not return to the past any more t
han he could bring his father and two sisters back to life.
Backing away from the wall, Tristan pondered, “Garwyli made a strong case for finding a Luigsech. What’s the chance one works here?”
“To be honest, Tristan, I thought on it a bit then realized with the millions of humans living today, we may find a Luigsech, but I seriously doubt we find one who still carries the dragon history. Think about it. With your Internet, you can find pretty much anything. Tzader contacted Quinn, asking him to relay any news. With all the resources of today’s Beladors, we would have heard immediately if someone had stumbled on significant information.”
“True. Plus someone with any knowledge of a dragon would be anxious to be interviewed. Everyone wants their fifteen minutes of fame.”
Returning to the reason he’d teleported here, Daegan laid out his plan. “We will go through my father’s bedroom, then the steward’s quarters to begin our search, if those areas have not been changed drastically. If we find nothing, we shall head to what had been set aside for the squire’s family quarters, but I doubt we find anything written there. In fact, I’ll be surprised to find anything of value written in the past, still in this castle.”
“Germanus was a steward, right?”
“Yes. He held my father’s trust, and mine. He had a good life with all he needed. But it hadn’t been enough. He wanted to be king.” That miserable speck of humanity had made a deal with the god Abandinu to live forever after King Gruffyn forbid worshipping that particular god. Abandinu created a realm where he put Germanus and flying creatures to reside in forever. Not what Germanus had expected. The former steward jumped on a chance to escape from being eternally exiled by making a deal to aid in Evalle’s capture.
Daegan had no remorse over the steward’s death at her hands.