Angie gasped, recognizing the sudden flow of energy as it passed from the troll into Lodin. The troll was dead before Lodin stood. Now Lodin's body practically glowed with stolen life force. He looked over his shoulder and met Angie's eyes, and understanding passed between them. "Now do you see, Angela?"
And she did. Lodin was a source mage.
Just like her.
Chapter 23
Tec trudged wearily through the southern California wildlands, following Ephix, Prince Kilyn, and the hundred or so warriors who had survived Lodin's ambush. Lodin might have killed them all, but the ambush had been little more than a feint. Angie had been the target.
And Tec had failed her.
He had been too busy fighting to recognize the true threat—the Fey Mermen waiting beneath the piers. By the time anyone realized what had happened, the Mermen had taken Angie beneath the water. In the desperate hand-to-hand fighting that followed, Ephix opened another portal, and the survivors fled back to Earth, dragging a distraught Tec with them.
He had begged Ephix to send him back, but she had refused. Lodin, she claimed, was far more dangerous than she was and could kill with a touch—even a were-jaguar. To even attempt a rescue would be certain death. No, she had said sadly, she and her sister had kept Angie hidden from Lodin all her life, but now he finally had her.
Tec couldn't accept that.
He'd never accept that; the pain of losing Angie was worse than the heartbreak he had felt the day his master Quetzalcoatl had died. For so many decades now, he had been alone, a warrior in service to a dragon master. Now to find someone to share his life with and then lose her again... He made fists of his hands.
No. He'd find a way to go back for her, no matter what.
But for now, the others needed him, needed his help to survive. They were in the wilderness of the post-Awakened world, with the dangerous ruins of Los Angeles to their north, an Aztalan army to their south, and uncertainty all about. They needed to reach the elven refugees who had escaped Coronado Island before the dragon attack.
They marched all day, skirting the ruins of Los Angeles. They would have made better time, but the wounded—and there were many wounded now—slowed their pace. The main Aztalan army was still far behind them, but Ephix feared they might run into scouts, so she kept to the sparse vegetation and trees to conceal their movement. Even wounded and exhausted, the elves moved with remarkable skill, barely disturbing a leaf.
They spent an uneasy night in the open, and the next day, they followed the old Highway 5 through the mountains and reached the southern end of the San Joaquin Valley to find a camp filled with thousands of elves, all that remained of the Coronado Enclave. The sight of the camp encouraged the weary warriors, and they rushed forward to embrace loved ones. Tec saw Prince Kilyn holding the tall Wyn Renna, speaking softly to her, passing on the news of their mother's death. Wyn Renna’s face betrayed her stormy emotions, but she was the heir now and would need to be strong for her people.
They spent another day with the refugees, readying themselves for the trek north. It was more than a hundred kilometers to Sanwa City and another hundred to the Fresno Enclave. It would take days just to reach Sanwa City where, according to Ephix, Marshal had promised help. Many of Ephix's Fey were already here with horses and wagons to help move the refugees. Tec even saw human Home Guard patrols on horseback, providing flank security for the refugees. Some humans even moved among the elves, helping distribute food and water, with medics tending those badly hurt.
Tec was both surprised and impressed. He never would have expected humans to help Fey. Perhaps First Councilor Marshal was a better man than he had realized, or maybe Marshal was more frightened of the coming Aztalan army. Refugees were an enormous burden. Most likely, Marshal just wanted to speed their passage through his territory.
With Fey and human help, the elven refugees trudged wearily north through the San Joaquin Valley. At sunset, two days later, they came within view of the walls of Sanwa City. Thousands of Nortenos had flocked to refugee camps set up on the outskirts of the city, including the remnants of the Norteno military that Marshal had wisely brought into service, joining them with his Home Guard. But with so many people, there was no room for elves. There can't possibly be enough food for so many. People were going to starve soon, and then panic would start. No, he realized sadly, they won’t. The Aztalans will get here before anyone starves.
Itzpapalotl and Rayan Zar Davi still needed Wyn Renna, the Haanal X'ib whose blood they believed held the key to freeing the petrified dragon, Memnog. Tec wasn't entirely sure he believed the ancient Olmtec prophesy, but that didn't matter; Itzpapalotl and Rayan Zar Davi believed it. The Aztalans would come north. They’d come for conquest, and they’d come for Wyn Renna. With his master Quetzalcoatl dead, there were no other great dragons to stop them.
Something was happening just ahead; vehicles were approaching from Sanwa City. Two HMM-V vehicles accompanied a pair of armored sedans. Tec hurried to join Ephix, Prince Kilyn, and Wyn Renna.
The vehicles eased to a stop, with Home Guard soldiers manning the heavy machine guns atop the HMM-Vs. The guns were pointed outward, guarding their flanks, but that hardly set Tec at ease. Humans hated and distrusted Fey, and despite Marshal's promises of safe passage, so many refugees must be freaking out the citizens, especially with all the Norteno refugees already putting so much strain on limited resources.
Soldiers disembarked from the vehicles, forming a security cordon. The doors of the sedans opened, and a man in his seventies—stoop-shouldered, bald, and eyes lined with exhaustion—climbed wearily out, his gaze going to Ephix. He approached her, walking stiffly with a cane but with strength of purpose in his tired face: First Councilor Duncan Quentin Marshal. It had been many years since Tec had last seen the former naval officer, and he was shocked at the changes those years had brought. Marshal wore a combat uniform, but it was so large he could swim in it. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes dark, and he was clearly in pain. He's sick, Tec realized, and then corrected himself a moment later. No, he's dying. Even from here, Tec could smell the cancer.
The passage of time, as always, settled heavy on Tec’s shoulders. He had always rather liked Marshal, finding in him a warrior kinship. Marshal had been one of the few human leaders Quetzalcoatl had enlisted to help rebuild the world, even going so far as to trust him with the truth of their plans to break the Fey Sleep—to break the world in order to save it. Unlike the others, the dragon hadn’t even dominated Marshal’s mind, trusting him instead to do the right thing. His master had always had a wonderful sense of character.
Others climbed out of the sedans, and Tec smiled when he saw the middle-aged black woman with horn-rimmed glasses and hair tightly tied in cornrows: Monique Carter, the Presidente of the Democratic Republica Mexicana Del Norte. Carter returned his smile and made her way to him, her hand outstretched.
He embraced her instead. "It's good to see you, old friend," he whispered. "I thought you dead."
"Lot of people think lot of things," she said, pulling back, her hands on his arms as she looked him over. "I'm alive. It'll take more than vamps to put me below ground. Last I heard, chupacabras ate you. Knew it couldn't be true. You always were too stringy."
A middle-aged man in a dirty combat uniform, General Ramón Gálvez, the commander of the Norteno military forces, joined them. He had short gray hair and about a week's worth of beard.
"General," Tec said with a nod.
"Jaguar Knight," the general said, looking down quickly, a defeated look on his once-proud face. "I ... it's good to see you."
"You did well bringing the army here," Tec told him.
"Not so well, I'm afraid. Most ... most didn't make it."
Tec saw the defeated look in the man's eyes and recognized instantly that Gálvez had fought his last battle. That's not so good, Tec thought. There's a fight coming to these people. They'll need a leader, someone who still has confidence.
This man is broke
n.
The last person to join them was Tavi, once again wearing the short brown cape of the Brujas Fantasmas. She rushed forward and hugged Tec, her face lit up with a smile, and then she cast a wary glance at Wyn Renna. Some things never change, he mused. She still hasn't forgiven her for trading places with the real Constance Morgan, for not being human. Tavi looked past Tec, her gaze sweeping over the others. "Where's Angie?"
A surge of shame coursed through him, and he stared at the ground. "Taken by Lodin. A prisoner in the Hollows."
Tavi gasped. Then she gripped his face between her hands and forced his head up, making him look her in the eye. "We'll get her back, okay? We'll get her back."
He nodded quickly, only half believing it, and forced a smile to his lips. "Sure." He turned his attention to the others, where Marshal was speaking to Ephix and the two elven siblings.
"We'll help however we can," Marshal was saying, "but our resources are already stretched to the breaking point. Your people can't stay here."
"And they won't," Ephix stated bluntly. "I will take them to the Fresno Enclave. We will look after our own, but any help you can provide ... would be appreciated."
Leadership is changing her, Tec realized. The old Ephix never would have asked a human for help.
"Actually," Marshal said, "I was hoping you could help us."
Ephix's eyes narrowed. "Help you?" The distrust between humans and Fey ran deep. Not so long ago, they had been killing one another. Only the Concord had stopped the fighting.
"The Aztalan army is coming north," Marshal said. "They're not stopping with the Coronado Enclave. They're going to sweep over the Commonwealth next, and Sanwa City is first in their path. After us, they'll come for you. Help us stop them here."
"I will not have my Fey fight for you," Ephix said bluntly. "Only weeks ago, your Home Guard attacked our home, murdered my sister."
Marshal's face paled, and he swayed in place, leaning on his cane. "Not us, not me," he said weakly. "Nathan Case acted on his own. He was even planning on assassinating me. I was wrong about everything. I see that now. I thought Angie Ritter and the Seagraves betrayed us, but they saved my life."
"Yes, they did," Ephix stated harshly. "And in return, you have chased away your best warriors. Why don’t you hide in your Bunker, lock your people away in safety while the Aztalans scour the wilderness?"
"There’s neither room nor food for so many," Marshal said. "No, that old vault is no longer an option, only a grave. We’ll fight above ground, protecting everyone."
"I am sorry," Ephix stated. "I will not lead my people to their deaths in a hopeless fight."
"Ephix," Tec interrupted. "You might want to reconsider. He's right. Itzpapalotl—and it is the black dragon controlling the Aztalans, not their boy emperor—she’ll come for your people in Fresno. Count on it."
"We won't be there. I'm taking the Fey far to the north, past what was once Canada. We'll go where no southern army will dare follow, the Arctic Circle. We cannot live among humanity, not anymore."
He opened his mouth to protest but closed it without a word and sadly nodded. Who was he to tell Ephix how to protect her people? If his master still lived, Quetzalcoatl would have found a way to work things out, but he wasn't Quetzalcoatl.
He couldn’t even save the woman he loved.
"I'm sorry for what's happened between our people," Carter said. "I'm sorry that Queen Elenaril is dead," she said to the two elves. "She was a great woman." Her attention went back to Ephix. "Is there nothing we can say to convince you to stand with us? We could sorely use your help."
"Nothing. We Fey are done with your kind."
"Not all of us," Wyn Renna said. She looked to Ephix and then Marshal and Carter. "I'm sorry I deceived you. I'm sorry I'm not really Constance Morgan, but I won't leave you in your time of need. I helped build the Brujas Fantasmas. Me—not the real Constance Morgan—me." She stared at Tavi, who met her gaze defiantly. "I'll fight with you."
"Sister," said Prince Kilyn, placing his hand atop her forearm. "You've done your duty. You've spent more than enough time among these people, so many years. You are going to be the queen now. There's no longer a need for you to—"
She embraced her brother, hugging him fiercely. "I love you, brother. I give over leadership of our people to you. You will make such a king, but I cannot leave my human brothers and sisters. Not now. Mother would understand even if ... if you do not."
His face fell, the resignation clear, but he smiled. "I do understand, sister. I do understand honor—and loyalty. Mother is proud of you. Wherever she may be, she watches and smiles."
"We are honored," Carter said, taking Wyn Renna's hand between hers. "You were always one of us, despite the blood that flows in your veins. Welcome back, Mago Commandante."
General Gálvez surged forward, and Tec tensed, fearing there would be trouble, but the veteran soldier placed his hand atop Wyn Renna's shoulder and met her eye. "I give over command of what remains of the Norteno forces to you, Mago Commandante. I have failed our people, but you won’t."
Marshal, to Tec's immense surprise, also nodded. "I had hoped to convince Ephix and her people to fight with us, but I'm grateful for your help. I'm too sick to lead, but I gladly give command of the Home Guard to you, Mago Commandante. I warn you, though, the unit is still reeling from the betrayal of Nathan Case. It's not what it was."
"It will be enough," Wyn Renna said with confidence. Her gaze went from him to Carter before resting on Tavi's face.
Tavi inhaled deeply, set her shoulders back, and sighed. "Welcome back, Mago Commandante."
Hope and confidence surged anew among the assembled leaders. Tec watched them, recognizing the magic the right leader could make—elf or human. Wyn Renna was exactly the person to command the defense of Sanwa City. But even with the Norteno and Home Guard forces combined, they'd never stand against the might of the Aztalan empire. The black dragon would destroy his master's dream of a world shared by Fey and humans.
He couldn't let that happen.
He sighed and stepped before Wyn Renna. "I'll help. If you'll have me."
"I’d never even have tried without you, Jaguar Knight."
Chapter 24
Days after Angie woke in Lodin’s tower—for some reason, she couldn’t remember how many—the Fey lord led her through a junglelike copse of trees, vines, and giant purple flowers behind the oak tree on the hill where he had executed the troll chieftain. She had barely seen Lodin since that night. Instead, he had left her in the care of her new handmaiden, Maeve. She had spent the days moving about the surprisingly large fortress and estate grounds. Nothing was off limits to her, but there was one simple rule: she was not to attempt to pass beyond the wall she had seen the centaurs patrolling. Otherwise, she was free to do and go as she chose—and she did, looking for weaknesses or a way to escape.
So far, she had found nothing.
She had been sitting in his spacious library, pretending to read a book—one of the few she had found in Old Elvish, a script she could slowly work her way through—when Lodin himself had strolled in, telling her she needed to come with him right now and see something. It wasn’t as if she could say no.
To be honest, she found herself not wanting to say no.
For days now, she had been struggling with the implications that he was another source mage. According to Lodin, that meant they were supposed to be together, a matched pair. He even insisted they’d be wed—but only when she wished, which, as far as she was concerned, would be two days after never. Angie thought of Tec, certain that he must be frantic with fear for her. Did she love him, or had it only been infatuation, a result of their shared dragon-bond? She honestly didn’t know, but the longer she spent here, the harder it became to think of Tec.
And to her surprise, she found herself thinking more and more of the golden-haired Lodin.
This night, he wore clothing … sort of. Lodin’s concept of clothing consisted of a short lion-skin kilt lined
with hardened leather straps and brass studs that swished around his powerful thighs as he walked, his muscular upper body bare, reminding her of Char’s Greek statues. He even smelled wonderful, like berries and man-musk.
To her immense relief, he had also made certain she had real clothing to wear, not the see-through nymph wisp Maeve had provided earlier. He had even apologized, explaining that satyrs didn’t understand human modesty. Now she wore a dazzlingly beautiful silver and blue silk gown, with long skirts that rustled about her soft velvet slippers. Over her shoulders, she wrapped a short, fur-lined cape. She looked and felt like the queen Lodin kept insisting she was—except of course for Nightfall, which she still wore strapped to her waist. She didn’t care how ridiculous a gown and sword belt looked; she wasn’t going anywhere unarmed.
She wasn’t a guest, she was a prisoner, and no matter how sexy Lodin was, she needed to remember that.
A trio of silver-maned centaurs carrying longbows with quivers of arrows slung over their broad shoulders trotted behind them. One of the centaurs also carried Lodin's long-hafted black spear against his chest with near reverence. The spear radiated magic. It was not just a hexed weapon but ancient, powerful magic.
She no longer felt his Fey charm turning her on like a light switch, and it was possible it hadn't been him at all the other night but another of his subjects, maybe one of the nymphs. Fey magic had a powerful erotic effect on humans. It had been like that with Char, who often hadn’t even realized she was doing it. Nymphs, fairies, and succubus released powerful sex pheromones into the air, driving humans wild. This magic had been the source for so many of the stories in which men and women fell madly in love with Fey at first sight. While most Fey couldn't be bothered with humans, finding them endlessly boring, some, like Char, fed upon their sexual energy, often freely given in return for unimaginable ecstasy, even if it prematurely aged them.
Nymphs, on the other hand, just loved to screw everything that moved, or screw with everything that moved. Nymphs weren’t evil, just different.
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