The dragons raced each other to get to them first. Both silvery gray in color, their iridescent scales flashed in the dim light as they shoved each other.
As if he could sense them, Varian ducked the claws of the first one to reach them, then rolled on the ground with her. But before he could regain his hold on her or rise, the second dragon scooped them both up in its talons.
Chapter 8
Varian snarled as he struggled to get to his sword and free it. It was no use.
“Stop fighting me.”
He froze at the sound of Blaise’s raspy dragon’s voice. It was the last sound he’d expected to hear. “I thought we were on our own.”
“Looks like we’re all stupid, huh?”
No sooner were the words out of Blaise’s mouth than the other mandrakes attacked.
Blaise tucked them up under his large body as he veered away from the others and glided over the black water. Varian thought they would safely fly over the valley to the other side until he heard a feral curse from Blaise. A heartbeat later they came crashing down on the opposite bank.
Varian let out his own curse as his armor bit into him. He lay a few feet from Blaise and Merewyn while the dragons still circled on the other side of the moat. Strangely enough, none of them were crossing the water to attack them where they were.
How odd.
He rolled over and scowled at Blaise. “You know, a softer landing would have been nice.”
Blaise changed from his dragon form back into a naked man. It was only then that Varian realized Blaise had been injured in the fall. His nose and mouth were bleeding profusely, and he gasped as if his body was aching as much as Varian’s. There were large bruises already forming on his left rib cage and another on his left thigh.
Varian pulled the helm from his head before he went to kneel beside Blaise to check on his injuries. Blaise summoned clothes for his body as he cradled one arm against his chest.
“You okay, bud?”
Blaise coughed, then flinched. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said in a voice that was reminiscent of the black knight in Monty Python’s Holy Grail.
Varian rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny.” He went to check on Merewyn.
“Not trying to be.” Blaise pushed himself up slowly before he wiped the blood away from his face with the back of his hand.
Varian quickly skimmed her body with his hands, but he didn’t feel anything that was broken. What he did feel were soft, warm curves that set fire to his blood and brought a wicked image of her naked and entwined around his body. A dark blush stained her cheeks as if she knew his exact thoughts. He felt the heat rise in his own.
He was blushing? Him?
Varian couldn’t recall a time in his life, ever, that he’d blushed, and it certainly wasn’t from touching a woman’s body. He’d always been certain and confident in those skills. What the hell was wrong with him?
“Is she all right?” Blaise asked, distracting him from his awkwardness.
“I think so. They hit her with stun darts.”
Blaise shook his head. “Damn dragons. They have no couth. I tried to get them to go toward Glastonbury, but they weren’t so stupid. They doubled back here to find you.”
Varian gave Blaise a measuring stare as he tried to understand him. “Why did you come back?”
He shrugged with an unwarranted nonchalance. With his actions, Blaise had signed his own death warrant. He would never be able to return to Camelot now. If any of Morgen’s corps ever caught sight of him again, they’d attack without question.
“I knew you two didn’t stand a chance without me.”
Varian felt a strange stab in his middle as unfamiliar feelings washed over him. He was so unused to kindness, and yet that had been all either Merewyn or Blaise had shown him. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thank you” seemed extremely inadequate given the fact that the two of them had just thrown their lives away to help him escape.
So he responded with what he knew best, an aggravated tone. “You know, you could have carried us all the way to the other side of the valley before you dropped us.”
Blaise snorted. “Yeah, not bloody likely.” He pointed up at the mandrakes in the sky who still hadn’t crossed the water to attack them. “No dragon flies over this place. And now I know why. I slammed into something rock solid, which is why we’re all lying here now.”
“What do you mean?”
Blaise pointed up toward the other dragons who were hovering but making no attempt to come after them. “There’s something here. No one knows what. Popular belief says it’s a holdover from the magick that was used to create this prison. My guess is it’s intentional magick that keeps the valley’s inhabitants inside so that they’re trapped without any hope of escape.”
He let out a sound of disgust. “I would have taken you guys back the other way, but there were too many dragons and gargoyles for that. I’m good, but with the numbers they have, they’d have eaten us alive in a few minutes.”
Varian didn’t speak as he watched the gargoyles and dragons turn back even though they were in plain sight of them. He vaguely recalled when the valley had been created. Though Morgen denied it, this whole place had been created to confine the burgeoning sorceress. Instead, she’d escaped the trap Emrys Penmerlin had laid for her and had used it ever since as a punishment for those who irritated her.
He looked at Blaise. “Once they’re gone, you can fly us out of here, or at the very least turn into a dragon and jump back over the moat.”
“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Blaise pushed himself up from the ground. “I’m not in human form right now out of choice, V. Something made me change, and it’s hiding my light under a bushel so to speak. I was able to summon clothes, but I can’t shapeshift. It, whatever it is, won’t let me use that magick.”
That figured. What next? At the rate they were losing magick, the two of them would be human by morning. Something that was a scary thought given the fact that neither of them had any idea what was waiting for them in this place. It would be nice if they could actually fight back.
Varian sighed before he picked Merewyn up. “I’ll bet that right about now you’re thinking you should have left me chained to that wall.”
“No,” she said, the word slurred. “Thank you.”
That gratitude surprised him. Personally, he’d be cursing himself for botching this so badly if he were she. In his opinion, she had every right to call him a few choice names.
Varian inclined his head to her as he carried her toward Blaise, who stood on the edge of the water. “So what now?”
Blaise shrugged as he glanced about the black-and-silver landscape. “I suppose we have no choice but to carry out your original plan. Make our way through the valley to the other side.”
As Varian started for the forest, Blaise bent over and picked up a jagged rock from the ground. He hurled it toward the moat.
Just before it reached the water, the rock bounced back and almost took Blaise’s head off. The mandrake dove at the ground as Varian had to step back with Merewyn to keep them from being hit, too.
“Do you mind?” Varian asked in an angry tone. “I don’t exactly have my typical reflexes while I’m carrying her.”
“Sorry. But I was really afraid of that, and I just had to know for certain. We can’t go back the way we came. I only hope that whatever is there as a shield, isn’t on the back side of this place, too.”
The mandrake had a vicious point. If that field or whatever it was, surrounded the valley on all sides, they were completely screwed and trapped here.
How ironic.
One of the things Morgen wanted most would be forever beyond her reach. It strangely served her right. But it didn’t do a damned thing for him.
Varian stared at the twisted black trees behind them that held no foliage at all. They went on for leagues and were tangled with thorny bl
ack vines. Black moss and brush clung to the trees and thorns, growing over the slim pathway. The grass under their feet was a sickly gray that matched the angry sky, which looked like it was ready to start soaking them at any moment.
Legend had always said that the valley was green and lush…Yeah, right.
This place looked even more inhospitable than Camelot, and given how disgusting that was, it said something. “Was this really my idea?”
Blaise nodded. “Yeah.”
“And you two were dumb enough to listen to me? I’m an idiot.”
The mandrake gave him a lopsided grin as he joined him. “Notice I’m not arguing.”
“That’s because you’re an even bigger idiot than I am. You’re the one who followed me here.”
Blaise shook his head before he gestured toward Merewyn. “Let me carry her. I know you have to be tired, and I’m not sure I can heal anything at the moment given how oddly my magick is acting.”
Varian hesitated, and he wasn’t sure why. His entire body ached, and yet he didn’t want to let go of her. There was a strange comfort in keeping her close to him. But that was ridiculous. He needed to get whatever rest he could. “Do you mind?” he asked her.
“No.” The word was still slurred from the effects of the stun darts. But at least she had her voice again.
Varian forced himself to hand her over to Blaise, then took a moment to enjoy the freedom of movement again. It’d been a while since he’d been able to do something as simple as move his arms and walk without pain.
Picking up his helm from the ground, he paused as he caught sight of Blaise heading toward the small, dark path that led deeper into the valley. He held Merewyn against his chest with her head cradled against his shoulder while he comforted her with words of encouragement that actually made her smile and thank him. Something about their actions reminded him of two friends speaking together.
A vicious pang of jealousy pierced him. It made him want to rush over to the mandrake and take Merewyn back. But not before he killed Blaise for making her look at him like that.
How dumb was that? Yet there was no denying what he felt. He wanted her to smile at him.
Trying to distract himself from his thoughts, he caught up to them in just a few strides. “How far do you think the valley runs?” he asked Blaise.
“I honestly have no idea. Like I said, dragons can’t fly overhead and to my knowledge they never have been able to. Anyone who was ever sent in here never returned.” He looked around at the black trees and thorned brambles. “My guess is they all died here.”
Varian shook his head. “I don’t believe that. Some of the people Morgen has banished were too mean to die that easily. Of course, that means that they’re probably still in here and are extremely pissed off.”
“Joy, oh joy,” Blaise said sarcastically. “I can’t wait to see them.”
“I wouldn’t worry overmuch. I’m banking that we make it through.”
“That’s because he’s too mean to die.”
Blaise laughed at Merewyn’s unexpected words. Honestly, Varian was a bit amused by them as well. “You know, for a woman who can’t walk, you’re terribly lippy. I’d be nicer to us if I were you.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
In spite of himself, Varian smiled. That was probably true, too. Niceties had never come easily to him. Insults, sarcasm, and snide remarks were his raison d’être.
After all, it wasn’t wise to be nice to anyone. All being nice did was allow others an opportunity to shove a knife in your back, which would only make you feel worse in the end. Better to treat everyone with disdain and contempt. That way when their betrayal came, you at least understood why and weren’t caught off guard by it. There was none of this sitting around wondering how someone could stab you when all you’d done was be kind and considerate to them. Try to help them.
He knew why people betrayed him. He was an asshole through and through, and he expected it from everyone else. So it never came as a surprise when people betrayed or attacked him. That’s what people did. And the only thing friendship accomplished was it allowed them an opening and means to take him down.
Even now part of him couldn’t help but wonder how Blaise and Merewyn would use this temporary weakness against him. When they’d strike for vengeance.
Varian ducked under a branch, then pulled it back for them. As he did so, the hair on the back of his neck rose.
Someone was watching them…
Blaise cleared his throat, letting him know that the mandrake felt it, too. Merewyn caught his gaze with a look that corroborated her intuition.
So they all felt it.
There was no telling who or what could be in this valley. Had it only been meant as a prison for Morgen, or had the ones who designed it populated it with other destructive things as a means of torture for her as well?
Not to mention that confined magick had an unholy knack for running amok. It could have twisted and morphed into just about anything after all these centuries. Morgen had damned a lot of Adoni and other fey creatures here. Every time one of them had used its powers trying to escape, it could have fed into the nether realms and allowed them either to create something new or allowed something from one of those realms to escape and come here.
Which meant that anything could be watching them now and planning their deaths.
With one hand on his sword, he kept his attention rapt for any movement in the dismal forest that surrounded them. Any sound or smell that might give away their watcher and give them even the tiniest advantage.
Varian froze in place as he heard a light, rasping sound. Before he could react, three of the trees beside them burst into flames, including the one in his hand. Releasing the branch, he cursed in pain. Blaise dove to the ground with Merewyn at the same time Varian unsheathed his sword. Even though his palm still burned from the fire, he turned around in a circle, scanning the forest for the source of the flame.
There was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
More trees erupted.
“I think they’re fyrebaums.”
Varian looked down at Blaise, who was leaning up on his elbows as he studied one of the black trees that was burning. “What?”
“The trees.” Blaise indicated them. “They’re fyrebaums. Remember? Emrys gave one to Arthur for Michaelmas—not long after you’d been left at Camelot.”
It took Varian a minute to pluck that out of his memory. He hadn’t thought of, or seen, that tree in centuries. Morgen had chopped it down the instant she’d taken over Camelot. But now that Blaise mentioned it, he did recall the gift. It’d only been a sapling that Emrys had brought back from the shores of Annwn—a netherworld where many of the older gods had taken refuge from the world of man.
Like the trees around him, it’d had sharply defined black bark and brittle black-and-silver leaves. Emrys had said the trees had been created to be a source of light in the darkness. That they were symbolic of benevolent strength, dignity, and rebirth, which was why he’d given one to Arthur. Emrys had believed their fire was cleansing for the soul, and that any person who’d been exposed to it would be able to repent their past and find a new future.
Varian didn’t know about that, but he’d been captivated by the tree as a child. He’d stared at it for hours, trying to understand the source of the orange flame. Not even Merlin had been able to adequately explain it to him.
As Varian started away from the tree, he felt something cold brush against his neck. It was a whispered touch. Gentle and quiet. Like a fey woman’s…
“Why are you here?” The question was spoken in a delicate tone, but the source of it remained invisible.
Even so, Varian knew instantly who was speaking to him. There was only one creature with a touch like that. “We come seeking refuge, Mother Sylph.”
The trees belched more fire that danced and entwined ten feet above them. Varian looked up as the flames formed into the image of a young, beautiful woman. Ev
ery part of her from her flowing gown, to her facial features, to her limbs were made by the flames’ spirals. She stared down at them with a blank expression as her flame hair danced around her body.
Her visage turned to anger.
“Refuge? Since when does a son of the Adoni seek anything but violence and turmoil?” She turned her burning gaze toward Blaise. She cocked her head curiously. “You’re a son of Emrys Penmerlin?”
“I am.”
Her anger seemed to mount as the flames moved even faster. Their temperature increased to a point that Varian was beginning to sweat from it. “Why are you in my valley, mandrake, when your kind doesn’t venture here?”
“I’m friend to the Adoni warrior.”
Varian had to stop himself from showing his surprise at Blaise’s declaration. Though they’d known each other for centuries, they’d never been friends.
Her lips curled. “While your devotion to him is admirable, Emrys is no friend to the Conifer Sylphs of this valley. Kill them!”
“Oh bloody good choice, Blaise,” Varian snarled, as all the trees around them burst into flames. No wonder he profaned friendship.
Look at what it got him.
The trees began shooting balls of fire at them. Varian ducked the blasts.
Blaise cursed as he struggled desperately to keep either himself or Merewyn from being struck. “I take it back. I’m fatherless. I swear it!”
“I concur. He’s a total bastard.” When they didn’t slow their attack, Varian snarled at him. “You had to be honest, didn’t you? See why you should never answer a question until you know why someone’s asking it?” He deflected balls with his sword, trying to cover Blaise’s retreat.
“Well it’s not like she liked you either.”
A vine from one tree shot out, tripping Blaise. He and Merewyn rolled to the ground. Varian stood between them and the trees, which shot blast after blast at him. He deflected them, but even so the heat from the fire was scorching.
“Go, Blaise,” he said. “Get Merewyn out of here.”
Blaise nodded before he crawled to Merewyn under the barrage.
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