by H. C. Brown
“I will take the servant’s stairs to the kitchen no one will see me. Send them away and I will be back soon.” She opened the door.
“See that you are. Remember, you belong to me, Thalia, and I do not want you to lift your skirt for any of the locals.” Lumos gave an attempt at a laugh. “Hurry up, wench, my cock aches for you.” He slapped her on the bottom.
She bit back the fear turning her legs to jelly and stepped into the hallway. “Nightdragon, tell Lumos… Tell him I love him.”
“He loves you, too. Go now, sweet mate… Run.”
Chapter Two
Thalia drew her cloak around her, glancing in every direction, and listening for any footfalls in the hall. The hum of conversation echoed up the front stairs from the taproom interspersed with slurred attempts at lewd songs. Heart thundering, she pushed her hair under the hood. Moving swiftly, she headed down the dark, narrow steps used by the scullery maids. The stairs led to a small storage area beside the back door. Light flooded from the busy kitchen, illuminating the small room. Sacks of potatoes lined one wall, filling the air with a damp, earthy smell. She carefully sidestepped a pile of pumpkins and bumped hard into a narrow table. Running her hand along the bench, she gripped the edge for purchase. Blinking into the gloom, she bit back a scream, shuddering at the sight of a skinned lamb’s head, sitting on a bloody platter. Keeping her head down to conceal her face under the hood, she dashed across the passageway, and slipped out of the back door.
The stable doors stood open not twenty paces away across a cobblestone courtyard. By the glow of a single lantern hanging above the entrance, she made out the restless form of Pyro pacing back and forth, his face a mask of worry. Furtively moving between the velvet shadows, she peered ahead into the gloom. The next moment the sound of men’s voices echoed from the street. She trembled with fear and shrank against the damp, moss-covered wall to hide. Two men, staggering drunkenly from the tavern in a lively conversation. As soon as the men had vanished into the dark street, she bolted across the pool of light spilling from the stables, and entered the gloomy interior at full pelt. Without thinking, she reached for the Nightdragon.
“Tell Pyro I know what to do. Tell him to keep Lumos safe.”
No reply came from the dragon. A wave of panic turned her legs to lead. I can do this. I must. I have no choice.
She stood inside the warm stable and inhaled the comforting fragrance of warm horses, hay, and leather. Albert stood saddled just inside the door. The large horse raked the ground with his foreleg and whinnied in welcome. She glanced at Pyro. He walked to her side with a serious expression. Without saying a word, he circled her waist with his large hands and lifted her onto Albert. The Dragonfae gave her a small smile and bent to pick up Brew, securing the cat in a large basket tied to Albert’s back. Terrified, she placed her saddlebag across Albert’s neck, and took up the reins. Before she could utter a word, Pyro gave Albert’s rump a resounding slap, and the horse bolted out of the stable. With hooves clattering on the cobblestones, the big horse took off at full speed. The reins slipped from her fingers and fell around Albert’s legs. She glanced around wildly and hung over the horse’s neck, clutching at his long flowing mane. I must sit up.
Setting her jaw, she gripped the saddle with her knees, and clung on for dear life. The muscles in her arms strained with effort and her fingers went numb. The wind whipped Albert’s mane into her eyes. Grunting, she pushed into a sitting position and peered into the darkness. Ahead, the chalk-white pathway stood out in the pale moonlight. As she hurtled along the road, the crossroads loomed out of the twilight marked by a tall, wooden sign. Gathering the reins, she pulled Albert into a trot and bounced ungainly in the saddle. Reaching the crossroads, she glanced over one shoulder but no one followed. Keeping her gaze away from the sign to block the Magus, she turned the horse west. Elation surged through her. I did it!
She pressed with her heels and Albert changed his stride to a canter—this rolling gait was the same one Lumos used with Argos. She relaxed into the familiar stride. More confident now, she praised Albert and watched his ears twist backward to listen to her ramblings. The dark, empty road dipped down into a valley and vanished beneath swirls of ghostly mist. The moonlight turned the countryside into every shade of gray, and the distant rivers into great silver threads. Thalia shivered. The trees lining the road waved in the breeze, their shadows forming an army of marching gargoyles. With each mile she traveled away from Lumos, the overwhelming loneliness had turned her resolve to jelly.
I must be strong. She patted the basket containing Brew. I am not alone. I am the mate of a Dragonfae. In the distance, the shadowy images of buildings came into sight. “Come on, Albert, we need to find a place to hide.”
* * * *
Lumos cast a spell, turning his tunic and pants to Dragonfae armor. The thin, black, glossy leather skin transformed to a chainmail stronger than steel. He sighed and strapped on his sword. The thought of Thalia traveling the roads alone at night and running the chance of the Boars capturing her curdled his gut.
I should be with her, protecting her.
He lifted the remaining saddlebag, drew a circle of light, and stepped directly into the stables. This blatant use of magyck would bring the Shadow Walkers straight to them and leave Thalia the time she required to escape. He leaped onto Argos and nodded to Pyro, who waited on Conker at the stable’s entrance. His friend’s expression held a look of determination and a nerve twitched in his cheek. Lumos squeezed his legs, moving Argos to the entrance. The horse quivered against his knees, and his entire body tensed for action. This warhorse understood battle very well and this small detail filled Lumos with confidence. He met Pyro’s gaze. “Do you know how many?”
“No… It was only by chance I picked up the scent of a scouting party.” Pyro shrugged and moved Conker beside him. “We have two choices—run or meet them head-on. I would imagine they are camping on the edge of town, for they are not social creatures.”
Lumos squared his shoulders. Taking the Shadow Walkers unawares would give them an advantage. He gave Pyro a curt nod in an effort to display confidence, although his stomach knotted with fear. “Aye, if we keep downwind their stink will cover us good enough. Mayhap we can pick them off one by one.”
“Aye, that is a good plan although in truth I wish we had more men with us.”
The evil they faced had a brutal reputation. He must survive this battle at all costs because his beloved Thalia needed his protection. The future of Drakka and all his people rested on his shoulders. He moved his horse onto the road and turned to Pyro. “Do you know if they sleep?”
“Yes, I believe they do, and, as far as I know, they usually attack when it is darkest, just before dawn.” Pyro rubbed his chin. “If we leave the horses in the woods, we might be able to dispatch the guards. We could slay a good deal while they sleep and then return for the horses. Mounted, we would stand a better chance. They say one Shadow Walker has the strength of ten men.”
Lumos threw Pyro a smile through gritted teeth. “And a Dragonfae has the strength of twenty.” He unsheathed his sword and raised the lethally sharp weapon high above his head. “To victory.”
Pyro gave a long feral growl and drew his weapon “Aye, to victory.”
* * * *
After traveling in the dark for some time, Thalia reached the outskirts of a farming community and sighed with relief. A large farmhouse sat atop a hill surrounded by workers’ cottages, milking sheds, and barns. Soft candlelight flowed from many windows, spilling out onto neat gardens. From the moon’s glow, she could make out smoke twirling upward from the chimney stacks. Slowing Albert to a walk, she moved along a well-trodden path to a barn open on one side to the elements. The breeze brought the smell of fresh hay. In the distance, a dog barked, followed by another, then another as if they were sending a message to announce her arrival.
She rode Albert into the deepest shadows and slipped from his back. She moved stealthily toward the wide opening
of the barn. On one side, a hand pump supplied water to a horse trough, and the water rippled like black silk with each drip from the nozzle. She glanced around, peering into the barn’s dark interior and searching for any inhabitants. Her night vision had improved to such an extent, she could make out individual bales of hay stacked neatly on one side of the barn. A number of chickens dozed in a line on top of a wooden partition dividing the hay from sacks of grain. One sack had burst, the wheat spilling across the hay-strewn floor and by the numerous footprints in the dust had been scattered by chickens. She gave a soft whistle and Albert plodded into the barn, at once sinking his muzzle into the water trough.
She removed the horse’s saddle and stowed it on top of the sacks of grain with her saddlebags and Brew’s basket. She let the cat run free. “Stay close, we may have to leave if we are discovered.”
Exhausted, she glanced around, searching for a safe place to rest. She wrapped her cloak around her and sank onto a nearby pile of hay. How could she sleep? Lumos would be fighting for his life. Gods! He could be dead already. Her heart gave a twist and tears stung the backs of her eyes. She had been awful to Lumos during their night in Nubra and after he had been so patient with her too. The memory of the distress in his eyes stabbed deep in her heart. She had inflicted that hurt on him, had made him sad. Hot tears ran down her cheeks and she swiped them away, disgusted by her weakness. I am such a fool.
“If he dies, it is my fault. I lured him to the Singing Forest. Dearest Lumos offered me his friendship. He did not care I had been misused, sullied by a despicable man—and how did I repay him? By not trusting him. In fact, I threw his friendship—his love—back in his face. Oh goddess, I am so sorry.”
Brew ran to her side and stuck his cold nose in her face. The cat had always been there for her in the dark days. Albert, too, had offered comfort in his own horsey way. Gods, in the beginning she had had no idea how to care for a horse. Dear, sweet Albert had been so patient, standing very still while she had removed the harness from the wagon, and had tugged at his halter. Often, the horse had nudged her between the shoulders to get her attention. Why had she not noticed the gifts of love surrounding her? Disgusted at her selfishness, she dried her eyes on the hem of her shirt, and decided to stop feeling sorry for herself. In truth, she had faith that Lumos and Pyro would defeat the Shadow Walkers. If she lost her way, Lumos would find her.
I am Lumos’s mate and I should trust him to protect me. She stared up at the stars and the image of the Nightdragon drifted into her mind. I do trust you to protect me, Lumos, as Cymbeline is my witness. Sighing, she rested her head on her arms, and closed her eyes.
* * * *
Lumos crouched low to the ground, the dagger clutched in one hand glistening in the moonlight. A trickle of sweat ran between his shoulder blades. He could hear Pyro’s heavy breathing behind him and found some comfort in his company. They had dispatched the perimeter guards and now moved silently toward the two Shadow Walkers guarding the horses. Lumos wrinkled his nose at the stench of death wafting from the Magus' soldiers. Keeping close to the ground with Pyro at his heels, he approached the dark figures sitting in the dirt, playing cards. The horses moved restlessly, sensing the dragons’ presence. He reached for his dragon.
“Mindspeak to the horses. Tell them we mean no harm.” Carefully, he moved between the horses, removing their hobbles. “Dragon, as soon as we dispatch these two sentries, tell these horses to run. Send them far away from the woods.”
Seconds ticked by. The Shadow Walkers glanced around peering at the horses, then returned to their game. The moment their attention had moved back to their game, he lunged out of the gloom and grasped the hair of the closest soldier. He dragged back the man’s disgusting head and, in one swift movement, slit the man’s throat to the backbone. The Shadow Walker fell to dust. A strangled moan came from the other sentry. Then a flash of metal and a grunt from Pyro dissolved the Shadow Walker to ashes. Lumos peered into the darkness sure, the man’s cry had alerted the camp. All around them, men stirred, and reached for their weapons. Damn! Without a word, he turned and ran for the woods with Pyro pounding along beside him.
They reached the horses with seconds to spare, with the entire Shadow Walker camp pursuing them on foot. Lumos leaped into the saddle and spun Argos around. Drawing his magyck around him, he covered Argos’s body with dragon armor, and charged into the fray. The Shadow Walkers moved like sprites, dashing from one place to the next in a split second. Each one wielded a ribbon of razor-sharp steel, and the noise as they employed shimmered through the air in an earthly whine.
Lumos urged Argos forward swinging his sword in a continuous arc. With his left side protected by Pyro, they moved into the army as one and cut down the evil-smelling beasts. Argos danced under him, moving his body from side to side to keep him balanced in the saddle. Glad to have such a courageous beast under him, he called to the horse by name, encouraging the stallion to move forward.
The continuous onslaught of Shadow Walkers blended seamlessly into the darkness, undetectable even with his keen dragon sight. He used instinct to cut them down. Sometimes, he caught a movement, not more than a shimmer in the air or a flash of metal, and aimed his attack in that direction. The battle raged endlessly. His hand ached, frozen into a fist around the handle of the broadsword. The tendons in his right arm burned a path to shoulders numb with effort. He ignored the throbbing pain of overexerted muscles and continued to slash at the Shadow Walkers. Time blended into an eternity of hell and his back strained painfully with each sweep of the heavy blade.
His right thigh and shoulder stung from repeated cuts from the Shadow Walker’s deadly weapons. Warm blood trickled down his arm and his bloody grip on the hilt slipped. The pain radiating from a deep wound above his knee pulsated without mercy. The Shadow Walker’s steel whips continued to slice deep tears in his dragon armor, exposing damaged flesh. The sticky crimson wetness oozing from numerous slashes filled his boot. His strength depleted he realized why these creatures fought at night. No magical being replenished their powers in darkness and his full strength would not return before the first rays of the sun. He set his jaw and cast the image of Thalia in his mind. Her love would give him the strength he required. He raised his arm and lashed out again. The battle raged on and it would seem the battalion of Shadow Walkers was endless.
How many more? Gods, this battle is harder than I imagined. Cymbeline, grant me strength to prevail. His thoughts went to Thalia alone and unprotected. Whatever it takes, I must survive. Dragging up his last ounce of energy, he dropped Argos’s reins and, taking the sword in both hands, swung it at the heads of the Shadow Walkers. “Die, you bastards!”
“Hold fast, Lumos, the dawn approaches.” Pyro’s voice pierced through the noise of battle.
Lumos stood in his stirrups. Under him, Argos danced sideways to keep his balance. He ground his teeth, pushed back the mind-destroying fatigue and blocked another strike, flicking the instrument of torture out of the hand of the attacker. He grunted and slashed with his sword, taking down three of the Magus’s army in one blow. There came a swish close to his ear and the soldiers’ metal ribbon-whips flicked across his back. The attacks came from everywhere now and he prayed his dragon armor would hold a little longer. His magyck had diminished by the second and had now become too weak to repair the dragon skin under such continuous damage.
Weak from exhaustion, he pressed on regardless and drawing up one last ounce of effort, swung his sword repeatedly decapitating the Shadow Walkers. The numbers had decreased and as the first rays of sun speared over the mountaintop, the remainder, unshielded by darkness, turned tail and ran. Giddy from blood loss, he sheathed his sword and turned to Pyro.
“I have sustained a few injuries and hope the blessed sun will replenish me enough to morph. Gods know only my dragon can heal this much damage.” He turned Argos to gaze at Pyro. “How did you fare?”
“I have not suffered as many injuries as you have. Indeed, mine are lit
tle more than scratches. I believe you were the target of this attack. My injuries are certainly not life threatening, as I see many of yours appear to be.” He cast a critical eye over him and his lips flattened into a thin line. “Have you noticed neither of the horses has sustained a debilitating injury either? I would have thought the Shadow Walkers would have cut them down to make a more even battle. Mayhap they have no brains or the Magus directed them toward you.” Pyro flexed his right arm. “That cut to your thigh is deep and you are losing far too much blood. I am surprised you can still sit upright.” He ran his hand across the gaping wound in Lumos’s leg. A white light flowed from his fingertips. “There, that may slow the bleeding for a while.”
Lumos rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness. His heart pounded hard enough to break through his ribs and he could not summon his dragon. He lifted his head to catch a few early rays of the sun. He must absorb enough magyck to morph. The weakness of blood loss had started to befuddle his mind. He met Pyro’s concerned gaze. “Thank you, my friend. Lady’s blood, for a moment there, I thought we were both heading for the veil.”
“So did I, my friend, so did I.”
Chapter Three
Thalia woke to the sound of Brew’s howl. Fear coiled in her belly and the fog of sleep vanished. She understood his warning very well—men. Without a second thought, she pushed her aching muscles into action and rolled to her knees. Jaw clenched, she sprang to her feet, reaching for the dagger at her waist. In the early morning light, the misshapen faces of two male beings peered at her with interest. At her feet, Brew arched his back and hissed a warning. His long tail flicked back and forth. The cat’s eyes had closed to slits, his lips drawn back to display sharp fangs.