Book 1: Treoir Dragon Chronicles of the Belador World, Book 1

by Dianna Love

  When Daegan tasted his first moment of freedom, his thoughts had gone to locating any remnant of his family.

  Tristan kept pace with Daegan as he led them deeper into a fifty-by-thirty-foot room with ceilings that arched high to a point.

  “The chapel.” Daegan smelled candle wax, but it had been burned too recently to have lingered for centuries. His fingers began tingling. He fisted that hand then stretched it out and the tingling remained.

  Tristan followed, continuing the conversation. “But you’re not sure Jennyver’s dead, are you?”

  “A part of me wants to believe she lives, because I have no one from those times and Garwyli badgers me about not opening my mind to the possibility that others could also exist today as I do. That’s all well and good, but my sisters were not immortal. Even if Jennyver had returned to Macha before my father died, which I would doubt, she would have had to request my father perform a ritual in Treoir, using the river of immortality that flows beneath Treoir Castle to grant her that request. It was assumed that my sisters would do so since that had been one reason for creating the Treoir realm. But Queen Maeve would not trust Macha to allow Lesley to visit, and Jennyver once told me she would not be happy immortal.”

  “Why not?”

  Stopping next to a series of beautiful wood structures holding more display boxes at an angle for viewing, Daegan tried to shake the tingling from his hand.

  Both hands now.

  He no longer had the headache he’d suffered for a bit, which had raised his concerns about the venom in his body. Had that Imortik done something to him?

  “Boss?”

  “What?” He turned to Tristan.

  “Why didn’t Jennyver want to be immortal?”

  “She said she couldn’t face outliving her children and all of her family.”

  Tristan grimaced. “That would suck.”

  “It does,” Daegan murmured then shook off the sad thought. “Let’s get the information to Adrianna while the humans are busy.”

  Lifting his phone, Tristan tapped. “I’ve opened a text to type in the names unless you want to talk to her?”

  “No. I don’t care for speaking into a tiny box.”

  “Okay, boss. Give me the spellings for each name.”

  Once Daegan did that and Tristan sent the text, Daegan strolled over to observe the display boxes. A few of the crumbling artifacts were familiar.

  Something irritated his energy.

  He swung around to find Tristan walking across the room toward the altar. “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing. Just walking around looking at stuff,” Tristan murmured.

  Daegan joined him in front of the altar, curious if Tristan noticed anything. “Do you feel an unusual sensation?”

  Sighing hard, Tristan said, “Actually, yes. But it seems to be all over the room. Was this used for something other than a chapel? Could it be Nightstalkers like we have in Atlanta trying to get our attention?”

  Daegan had met some of the ghoul informants who exchanged a handshake with a powerful being for ten minutes of corporeal form. “No, this is not like that and the chapel was used for worship. Our family had loads of energy just by being born of dragon blood. My sisters both came here often as they grew up.” The closer Daegan got to Tristan, the more he felt energy buzzing over his skin.

  He went on high alert and whispered, “This could be a trap.”

  Tristan became very still then started searching the walls and behind them. “What should I look for?”

  “I don’t know. Just watch my back as I search. The energy pulling at me is stronger by the altar.”

  “Should we leave?”

  Daegan considered it. “Not yet. The energy does not feel hostile.” The energy poked and brushed at him as if trying to touch him, but not in an aggressive way. No, it felt ... familiar. His heart pounded at realizing the energy seemed to recognize his.

  Tristan took a step back. “I’ve got your back. Since you seem to be the divining rod, so to say, I’ll stay out of the way.”

  That sounded like a good idea, especially if Daegan was wrong and this energy came from a trap. Someone from the supernatural world could have placed it once word of Daegan’s escape trickled out.

  He closed his eyes and opened his senses.

  The energy tugged at his left hand.

  He dropped to his knees to look more closely at the heavy stone altar where the candles burned slowly. Not those from his da’s time, but a nice representation.

  As he knelt on the right side of the altar, his left hand jerked hard to the left.

  He caught his balance before he tumbled over.

  “Boss?”

  “Stay put.” Daegan shuffled over and allowed his left hand to move more freely. His fingers stopped at the center of the stacked-stone altar a foot tall and ten feet wide.

  What now?

  Lowering his head, he peered more closely at an empty spot between two stones. He recalled being ten and watching a mouse push its head out of that hole during a service. Mortar had continued to crumble, leaving room for a fat mouse. He pushed his index finger into the hole and made it only to his first knuckle. The end of his finger moved across a smooth and narrow surface.

  Pulling his finger out, he concentrated using kinetics with his finger and thumb to draw whatever he’d touched out.

  It didn’t budge at first. Was it wedged tightly?

  He dug out additional mortar and tried again.

  Tristan’s phone dinged. He said, “Isak is bad to the bone when it comes to searching human files. He has a lead for us on a Luigsech woman.”

  Daegan struggled to leave this and get back on track, but he couldn’t walk away. The energy continued to beat at him as hard as he tried to find the source.

  “Boss? You want to stick around or head out?”

  Driving all the kinetic power he could into that small opening, Daegan said, “Give me a ... ”

  Fissures in the surrounding stones cracked.

  A ring rolled out.

  He stared at the circle of twisted silver in the shape of a dragon’s head with emerald eyes, unable to breathe. Then he lifted the ring in his trembling fingers.

  Tristan squatted down. “That’s not the ring you’ve been looking for, is it?”

  “Yes and no. This is half of a ring created with da’s power poured into it for Jennyver. Lesley had one as well, but hers had cobalt eyes on the dragon. The ring was created in two halves to be worn as one.”

  “Well, damn. I know you were hoping your sister would still be alive. Sorry, boss.”

  Daegan struggled not to shout and bring in the humans. His emotions tangled with logic. Jennyver was not immortal, but she left this half of the ring for a reason.

  Could she have survived?

  Daegan needed time to think and maybe, just maybe, consider what Garwyli had been trying to beat into him. That Daegan had no idea what had happened while he’d been imprisoned.

  Not ready to declare Jennyver alive, or dead, Daegan explained to Tristan, “This ring does not confirm her death or that she lives.”

  “Why not?”

  “My sisters were given the Gruffyn dragon rings to protect them, but if they died, each ring would insure their trip to a holy afterlife. They had only one reason to separate the ring into two parts—to send the dragon’s head half with someone to inform the king they had been taken by an enemy.” Daegan squeezed the ring in his fist, careful not to damage it. “I have not made it through all of my father’s chronicles to discover what my father believes happened to her nor did the Luigsech woman mention Jennyver or Lesley in her last writing.”

  Tristan scratched his head. “If Jennyver did not go back to Treoir, Macha should have been hunting for her, right?”

  “True.” Daegan paused at Tristan’s words. “Macha has dodged answering my questions about Jennyver.” He wanted answers badly, but he could not start a conflict with Macha when he had to still save his people. Much
as he hated the idea, the supernatural world might require her help. Rising to stand next to Tristan, Daegan carefully slipped the ring now peacefully buzzing with energy into his pocket. “What did Isak have for us?”

  Flipping his phone open, Tristan replied, “He traced that Luigsech squire family through each generation for all three sisters. Two of the lines died out completely before 1600. The one noted as the king’s squire had no future generations after your father’s time.”

  “Nothing?” Daegan asked, surprised. “She had no children?”

  “There is no history of her after what was considered a battle of the high kings. I guess that was sort of like wars between countries, huh?”

  Daegan sighed at how the history of dragons had been turned into myths. “I suspect history has renamed powerful dragon kings to high kings. The Dragani War evidently destroyed the dragon houses, scattering them. That dragon in my dungeon was an ice dragon. They were the most powerful house with a clan of five dragons.”

  “Five? Holy cow.” Tristan scratched his head. “Wait, but your red one was the most feared dragon, right?”

  “Yes. I am not sure I could have defeated all five alone, which was one reason to hold them as allies. Someone destroyed that alliance by pretending to be my red dragon.”

  Tristan lowered his hand and had a look of disbelief. “Sounds like the same thing that’s happening now.”

  Daegan assumed nothing, but ... could the same person be after him again?

  He would not be so easy to take out of action this time. He would not allow history to repeat itself. “When I find the one imitating my dragon, they will pay.” Anxious to move ahead with their search, he snapped, “Back to Luigsech. We have no lead then?”

  “Here’s what we have.” Tristan lifted his phone to read as he gave Daegan what he’d received. “According to Adrianna, Isak searched all current-day Luigsechs, the majority of which trace back to people related to the squire family parents, but not to that specific family.”

  “Still nothing,” Daegan mused irritably.

  “Stay with me, boss. Not done.” Tristan swiped his thumb across his phone. “Isak found a Luigsech woman who he would call suspicious.”

  “Why?”

  “She has a vague history prior to being accepted into a prestigious university in England.” Tristan glanced up. “Says she was an orphan. There’s no DNA sample for them to use to trace her background. That’s the blood test they use today that can tell a person who their ancestors were.”

  Today’s science amazed Daegan. “Why does he think it’s suspicious?”

  “Isak said she had an anonymous benefactor who paid for her education, probably because he gave the institution a bunch of money. She now works at an archival research centre in County Galway. She has a reputation among historians for being able to locate rare books and read dead languages, regardless of the time period. Isak did more digging on her and says the probability of that skill is so tiny it isn’t believable.”

  Daegan’s pulse stirred at the first hint of a connection to his past. “All squires were human for the simple reason they were no threat to a dragon family and would be loyal to the family who offered them protection. This person Isak speaks of has quite a gift to be human.”

  “Probably why Isak considered this Luigsech descendant suspicious. Not to mention she’s working in an ancestral research centre. That’s a bit coincidental.”

  Daegan stated, “I never believed in coincidences in my time, nor do I now.”

  Tristan shoved his phone in his jeans pocket. “Me neither. Want to take a look at her?”

  “What’s the woman’s name?”

  “Casidhe Luigsech.”

  Daegan had his doubts that she could be a squire carrying the Treoir history today, but he had nowhere else to look. Then something Tristan had said hit him. “Did you say she is known for locating rare books?”

  Tristan’s eyes sharpened at understanding the direction of Daegan’s thinking. “Yeah, rare books, as in maybe ... a grimoire?”

  “Possibly. We have no other place to search and need every minute to save Devon and Renata. We go to Galway to find out who this Luigsech female is and what she knows.”

  Chapter 16

  Cathbad teleported into the realm of TÅμr Medb, hoping to avoid a battle with yet another powerful female.

  He hadn’t been back since taking off under the guise of needing time to get over the death of his polymorph. Cathbad had spent days pouring power into Ossian, one of the elite Scáth Force warlock warriors loyal to the queen.

  But she had squandered that asset by sending Ossian on a deadly and foolish errand behind Cathbad’s back, forcing Cathbad to make a deal with Daegan and the Tribunal to head off a war among deities and the queen.

  If not for that potential fallout screwing plans he had in mind, he’d have let them have the queen.

  Now to find out what she had been up to in his absence.

  He walked through the wide and towering hallways, taking his time to assess the warriors before reaching her. The warlocks and witches in this realm were a barometer of Queen Maeve’s frame of mind.

  Along the way, he began noting the lack of warlocks and witches normally passing through the halls, hurrying to do her bidding.

  Had she mentally deteriorated even more since he’d left and killed her followers?

  Cathbad had made a blood pact with her thousands of years ago when they put a plan in motion to fake their deaths and sleep for two millennia.

  She’d peered ahead in time and claimed those with majik would die off as the world changed. She declared they could rule everything and she’d gain the realm of Treoir Island as well.

  He hadn’t believed her, but she proved her ability to see glimpses into the future by opening a portal for him to travel hundreds of years ahead.

  That little escapade almost killed him.

  He refused to even try that again and destroyed the access point after gaining pure Noirre, the blackest of majik, to bring back.

  But he’d seen enough to believe what she claimed. That realization had put in motion everything for them to reincarnate in this era when they’d expected to hold all power in the human world.

  That hadn’t turned out the way either of them hoped and now he’d been forced to make new plans.

  Walking more briskly, the entrance to her personal chamber came into view. He strode toward the tall golden doors with erotic figures swirling on the surfaces. Guards positioned on each side cast him a quick look.

  Those two would not risk their lives by trying to stop him.

  He’d been entering her chamber since they both woke up in this era and could easily teleport in had he not chosen to walk. The guards had come to learn if the queen did not want Cathbad, or anyone else, in her private quarters, she would deal with it.

  They spoke at the same time. “Greetings, Cathbad the Druid.”

  He lifted a hand halfway up in reply.

  The giant doors opened with little more than a thought from him.

  As soon as he entered, he searched the room, which was easier to do now that a dragon throne no longer sat in the center.

  Queen Maeve floated in front of a far wall once used as a scrying surface.

  The two of them had arranged for multiple queens to live in TÅμr Medb for six hundred and sixty six years at a time. A female child born of each queen would take over as a new queen immediately when the current one died.

  The very moment Queen Maeve reincarnated, the final stand-in queen vanished, but that female had gained the last laugh on Queen Maeve by leaving a gaudy wall of rare gemstones for scrying. The wall had been corrupted and failed to show the history of all that had happened while Queen Maeve had been absent.

  Those large exquisite gemstones were now stacked in a pile to the side.

  He shook his head at her ignoring him. She knew he stood waiting. “Ya still tryin’ ta make that scryin’ wall work, Maeve?”

  “No.” She
turned to him, face as gorgeous as ever with a deadly look in her eyes. Her hair seemed at times sentient, moving around and changing color according to her mood. Today the long locks were woven into tight black and yellow braids, pulled back severely, showing off her high cheekbones. Her gown was a dazzling weave of thick black, gold, and silver threads, all of which crackled as she moved.

  Hands still in the air, she said, “I’m creating a new scrying wall. We’ll never retrieve what was recorded in the first one after those damned Beladors destroyed parts of it.”

  “Had ya not kept that dragon here as a throne for all these centuries, the Beladors would have had no reason to invade TÅμr Medb,” he reminded her. How many times had he warned her to kill Daegan while she’d had him in a vulnerable position? He added, “Had ya not allowed Daegan ta sleep when ya returned, he would not have been able to contact the Beladors.”

  “What are you saying?” Surprise registered in her face. She floated ten feet off the floor in place. Her long braids uncurled from being wrapped around the crown of her head and snapped from her agitation.

  He’d gained her attention with that comment and pushed on. “I’ve thought on how Daegan communicated with anyone outside of here for a while. That dragon must have dream-walked. ’Tis the only way he could have reached someone outside of TÅμr Medb. Bein’ that those of his bloodline livin’ in Treoir could do so as well, was not so hard ta figure out.”

  “That stupid dragon,” she snarled with loathing. “He could have been killed dream-walking.”

  Shrugging, Cathbad pointed out, “I would think he preferred the risk of death over remainin’ trapped another couple thousand years.”

  She floated lower from the wall, then around the room as if the throne still stood in the center, before she descended the last distance and took two steps on the marble floor. “I don’t want to talk about that overgrown lizard. I will have him back here where I can enjoy the next thousand years of watching him suffer.”