by Paula Quinn
“No.” Marcus stopped him. “If someone took Sam they might return for Garion if they read her thoughts about him. You need to stay here. I’ll find her.”
He ran from the kitchen before anyone could stop him. His wings snapped open to reveal thirty feet of aqua radiance as he took off running. He traveled north for three hundred miles, pushing his speed and the strength of his wings, then, finding nothing, he turned west. All the time, he called to her, searched for even a trace of her. But there was nothing.
His heart roared. He had to find her.
Sam, where are you?
She’s safe. For now.
The sound of Patrick in his head drew him to a halt in the air. He hovered high above the island of Skye, searching for a direction.
Patrick, you’re going to die for taking her. Your only decision now is how you want to take your last breath. If you hurt her in any way, I will hurl your family, including little Helena and her brother Jacob, over the cliffs.
Silence. He hated himself for threatening children, but hell, he’d eaten a few in the past. He was becoming more and more a man every day. Damn it all to hell.
Bring the boy to me and I’ll give you back your original form. You never have to worry about being transformed again. The Phoenix Amber will not work more than twice on the same body. You can do with this woman whatever you please. Do we have a deal?
Tell me where you are and I’ll bring him.
I’ll tell you when you bring him.
Marcus searched for her until morning. He returned without her, feeling more hopeless and enraged than ever before. He let the others ask him questions and he told them about Patrick and his demands. He lumbered into the great hall and fell into a cushioned chair.
He closed his eyes and thought he was dreaming her when her voice sounded in his head.
Marcus?
Sam! He bolted out of the chair. Where are you?
I don’t know. It doesn’t know I’m awake.
It? What do you mean, it?
A Drakkon, Marcus, she cried. A gigantic red dragon that can speak. Marcus, are you going to find me?
Aye, love, aye. I’m coming.
Hurry, Marcus, a male’s voice invaded his thoughts, silencing hers. Patrick won’t be kept waiting.
“What is it?” Thomas hurried to him after he entered the hall and saw the fear in Marcus’ expression.
“Sam was able to contact me, but she doesn’t know where she is. Also, she said a Drakkon had taken her. A Red.”
Thomas thought it over for a moment. “It’s most likely Simion Red. He and Patrick are close. Patrick must have transformed him.”
Marcus ran his hand through his hair wanting to yank out every strand. “I have no proper weapon to fight a Drakkon, Thomas. Patrick wants Garion. I fear he may kill Sam if he doesn’t get him.”
“So, do we give up Garion then?” Thomas asked him with apprehension straining his throat.
No! Damn it, Marcus didn’t know what to do. “I cannot make this choice, Thomas. She…she means everything to me.”
“Marcus?”
Neither Marcus nor Thomas heard the faint voice at their feet.
“I don’t want harm to come to the boy,” Marcus continued. “He is our last hope. But I cannot live without Sam in my life.”
“Marcus?” Garion tugged on his jeans.
“Garion, go find Ellie and tell her Marcus and I said you can have a cookie.”
The boy blinked up at Thomas, smiled, and then turned back to Marcus. “Why don’t you use your fire on the Drakkon?”
Marcus bent to his knees in front of him. “I can’t use it, Garion. I’m not a Drakkon anymore.”
“Do you want to be?” he said, shoving his thumb back into his mouth.
Ah, that was the question that plagued him. Did he want his majestic form back? Would he give it up for Sam? For Garion?
“There you are!” Tabitha hurried inside the hall and picked Garion up. “Leave the men alone,” she scolded. “They have important things to discuss.”
Marcus straightened and watched the child’s beautiful face bobbling up and down behind Tabitha’s shoulder.
“Do you want to be Drakkon again, Marcuth?” he asked around his thumb. “I could do it.”
Marcus stared at him for a moment. “Tabitha, wait!” he called out, stopping her from leaving. He went to them and set his gaze on Garion’s. “What can you do?”
The boy stopped sucking his thumb for a moment. “I can make you a Drakkon so you could fight better and bring Sam home. I like her.”
“How, how can you make me Drakkon again? I will not harm you for your essence.”
Behind him, Thomas smiled.
“You don’t have to hurt me. Just mix some of my blood with yours. A little will do it.”
Marcus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was it possible? He pivoted on his heels and looked at Thomas. “Did you know he could do this?”
Thomas shook his head and came around to stare at Garion. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this power?”
Garion shrugged his shoulders. “You like being a man.”
Marcus needed to sit down. When he did, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to think clearly. He could transform. Be a Drakkon again. All that power—his beautiful scales, his talons, and his fire. All his once again. But he’d be giving up other things, new things like beds and bacon, laughter and making love. Human emotions, like sorrow, loneliness, compassion, love…Sam.
No. He didn’t want to give up Sam. Not for any treasure, not even for his Drakkon body. The realization shook him to his core. He shook his head in amazement at how being a man had changed him. He looked around at Ellie and Garion, Tabitha and even Thomas. He had a family now.
“Do you want to be a Drakkon, Marcuth?”
He smiled at Garion. He’d wanted to return to his natural form more than he’d wanted anything else—until he’d met Samantha Montgomery and touched her face, her body, with human hands. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say, even after he said it.
“No, Garion, I don’t.”
Thomas turned to him, stunned and wide-eyed. “Then, Samantha is your treasure.”
Yes, yes, she was. Marcus stood. She was everything he wanted, all he ever needed. No one would take her from him. But how the hell was he going to fight Simion Red?
“Garion, if you transform me, will I remain a Drakkon?”
The boy shook his head. “No, you will be like me.”
Marcus looked at Thomas and grinned. “Let’s get to it then.”
*
Marcus stepped into the outer bailey with the others and looked up at the skies.
I’m coming for her, Padgora. And then I’m coming for you.
“If we’re going to do this,” Thomas interrupted his thoughts. “There are things we should discuss first.”
“Make it quick,” Marcus told him, pulling out of his jeans and boots. He stood ready, dressed only in his briefs.
“Well,” Thomas began, “Simion won’t be expecting a Drakkon, so you have the element of surprise. But we still don’t know where he’s taken Sam. My onyx is still dark.”
Marcus flicked his cool, beryl gaze to him. “I’ll be able to smell him when I’m Drakkon.”
“Will you remember Sam after the change? There’s a chance…”
“I’ll remember her.”
“Perhaps I should transform and come with you,” Thomas offered, then shook his head, remembering to whom he was speaking. No Drakkon was more deadly than Marrkiya. “I’ll stay here with Garion.”
Marcus bent his knees and met Garion’s smile with one of his own. “Now, little Drakkon, tell me what to do. Once we share blood, will I transform right away?”
The child shook his head and then looked at the sky. His thumb slipped from his mouth when his wide, topaz eyes fell on Marcus. “A Drakkon is coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marcus sprinted into action, l
ifting Garion in his arms and shouting for everyone to get inside the castle. “How close?”
The child didn’t answer but transformed. The instant he had fangs he tore them through the flesh at Marcus’ forearm and then turned them on himself, piercing a hole through his tender scales. They both bled and Garion pressed their wounds together.
How do you know what to do?
The baby Drakkon shrugged its bony shoulders. I just do.
“How?” Marcus stopped while a deep warmth pumped through his veins. It almost made his knees melt. He could feel the power of Drakkon returning to him, coursing through him. It made feel lightheaded and exhilarated. He waited an instant while a wave of nausea washed over him next. “How long will it take?”
You just have to want to be Drakkon, and you will become one.
“And the same the other way around, aye?”
Garion cocked his little horned head and listened. Drakkon is closer.
Marcus ran to the castle doors, calling Tabitha telepathically to come take the transforming baby Drakkon.
When they were safe inside, Marcus turned and leaned his back against the door and breathed. He just had to want to be a Drakkon. It was that simple. He thought about his great spaded-tail and how Garion would enjoy the tricks he’d teach him. But what if wanting to be a man wasn’t enough to bring him back? Back to her. What if he couldn’t turn back and was dangerous to Sam? To Ellie?
And so the simplest task of just wanting wasn’t working.
Drakkons could be silent in their flight if they were good enough flyers. Simion Red was not. He was still about a mile away but Marcus could see him now, riding the clouds.
To fly again. To rule the sky. A swoosh of his magnificent tail could dash the clouds to nothing.
I want to be a Drakkon!
It wasn’t working. Damn it! Did he like being a man that much? He would admit that because of Sam, he loved it, but now was not the time to dwell on such things.
The Red hovered over the castle for a moment and then came in for a landing.
I want to be a Drakkon!
Nothing. So, after all this, love was going to get him killed?
Padgora is done waiting, human. Where’s the boy? the Red rumbled in Marcus’ thoughts while he landed gracefully and tucked in his wings.
Marcus stared at him for a moment. He hadn’t seen a Red in so long. They were quite ugly. This Simion’s—Marcus didn’t know him—scales weren’t blood red with a touch of iridescence to make them glimmer like red flames in certain light. His were smudged with brown, like dirt or rust. His snout was long and narrow and his brow was knobbed over red squinty eyes.
Nothing like an Aqua.
He stepped backward on his damned human feet and reached for one of the tools he’d left out here. Whatever he grabbed had a handle. Good enough.
“Tell Patrick to come and get him.” He swung what turned out to be a shovel, straining the muscles in his arms. The edge of the metal cut across the Drakkon’s chest, but only a trickle of blood issued forth. It didn’t stop Marcus from going at him again. He’d fight as a man until his Drakkon showed up.
The Red swiped at him with his long, razor-sharp talons but Marcus leaped out of the way in time.
Suddenly, he heard Tabitha’s voice outside. She was calling for Garion.
Marcus turned toward the castle doors and his heart dropped to the ground.
Garion was running toward him, his pudgy hands swinging to get him there faster. And then those arms changed into his golden-scaled claws, his sneakers popped and tore away, and his feet grew six-inch talons. He drew back in the air while his wings held him upright, opened his mouth and breathed fire at the Red. It wasn’t enough to do any real damage, but the small Drakkon was close enough to grab.
No! Marcus wanted to run to him but he couldn’t move his legs. His breath caught in his chest. It was happening!
The world changed in his vision almost instantly. His Drakkon form grew out of his human body, tearing away his briefs and his concerns. The air was tainted with fear and he licked his hard, leathery chops to cleanse his tongue. The sea called to him but he swung his massive head toward the Red trying to grab a smaller Gold.
“Marrkiya! The boy!”
He lowered his gaze to a human waving his scrawny arms—The boy!
His wings unfurled with a booming snap and he leaped forward on huge, muscular haunches. He smashed against the Red and the two fell with a mighty crash.
Take hold of my tail, he commanded the little Gold. Don’t let go.
He bolted back to his taloned feet and then attacked again. Their mighty wings lifted both Drakkons off the ground and into the air, claws entwined in a battle to the death.
Finally, exhausted from fighting a far better specimen, the Red backed up and hovered over the fields. How did you do this, Mar—?
Marrkiya didn’t give him a chance to finish and possibly let Padgora pick up his thoughts. He opened his mouth, and for the first time in months, breathed fire. His lungs were full but he didn’t use up his store. It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do as a Drakkon. But the Red was already burning, falling, and landing with a thunderous crash –on top of the bailey wall.
Don’t kill Drakkon with fire, Garion warned while he let go of Marcus’ tail and landed atop Marcus’ head. Of course, it was broad enough to hold him.
We don’t have a golden arrow, Marrkiya reminded him.
Yes, we do! the Gold cried out and flew down to the injured Red.
Marrkiya kept his wings close as he sped toward the smoke.
But he was too late. The little Gold’s golden arrow-tipped tail was stuck inside the Red.
Now he’s dead, Garion declared with arrogance that made Marrkiya proud.
Marrkiya nodded and pulled the Gold’s tail loose. Now get in the castle, he ordered, his brow dipped low over his eyes. Before I make you my dinner.
He saw the humans running out to him but he stopped them when he lifted his head and blew out a gust of smoke from both nostrils. He was angry that they’d let the Drakkon out of their sight. They had better not let it happen again.
He remembered something else. Padgora had his treasure. With a mighty flap of his wings he rose off the ground and flew off toward the sun.
Patrick. I have the boy. You can still sense Drakkon, can’t you? If he tried, he’d sense Marrkiya, and since he didn’t know about the transformation, he would think he was picking up the Gold. Or have you lost that ability too?
Where’s Simion? Patrick demanded.
I shot him with a golden arrow.
Traitor!
Marrkiya wanted to eat him. Slowly. He dared call him a traitor after he’d robbed the Drakkon of their destinies only to want to change back himself. And to change others to do his bidding.
I want to speak to the woman. Prove to me that she lives and I’ll bring the child to you.
She sleeps.
Then you had better wake her or I make a detour to your house.
Marcus? He heard her a few minutes later.
Marcus. Another part of him. A part that loved her—whether he understood it or not. A part that drove him to continue.
Sing to me, he told her. Sing the song we heard the night we went flying, the night at my cave. Sing it and I’ll find you.
Hurry, Marcus.
I’m coming.
*
Sam sat still in the chair Patrick White had tied her in. She didn’t care about the tears streaming down her face or about the man dressed in Armani, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows in his luxury high-rise apartment. She was thankful to be away from the Drakkon and his foul breath.
“You miss the sky,” she said softly while Patrick, or as Marcus knew him, Padgora, continued to gaze outside.
“I will rule them once again,” he said, finally turning to her.
“He’s going to kick your ass.”
White smiled. “If he’s quick enough.”
“It doesn’t matter how quick he is. Have you seen the size of him? He isn’t a brick wall. He’s two. I’d be nervous if I were you.”
“You’re delightful!” he laughed at her heartfelt declaration. “I should have left you awake. You could have entertained me.”
“You can laugh, but your ass is getting kicked.”
He looked her over for a moment, coming to some conclusion that made his grin widen. “He races to your defense. He’s promised to toss my babes to the cliffs if I hurt you.”
Babies over cliffs? Horrible.
Of course, Marcus wouldn’t do it. He was wonderful with children.
“And do you want to know what he did to my wife?”
“No thank you.”
He ignored her and moved toward her. “He had sex with her, used her up and left me with her constant tears.”
Sam closed her eyes, wishing he would stop.
“She almost emptied my bank account with the expensive gifts she bought him. The first night I tried to have sex with her, she rejected me. I wasn’t good enough anymore. I had no other choice, really.”
“What did you do?”
“I killed her, of course. We were no longer any use to each other.”
“You’re sick!” she accused him.
“Perhaps. But I will be well soon.”
His back was to the windows, so he didn’t see the giant blue-green dragon breaking through the clouds and heading straight for them. An…aqua Drakkon. Marcus.
She took in the sight of him while he flew. She’d seen Garion and a giant red beast, but nothing, not even the portrait of him in Ellie’s book, could have prepared her to behold Marrkiya in the flesh.
He was something taken out of a Tolkien novel. Monstrously big and gloriously beautiful in a terrifying sort of way.
Her eyes couldn’t help but grow wide with terror when Marrkiya the Drakkon crashed through the window, spraying glass everywhere. She screamed and pushed back in her chair. The chair toppled over and she went down hard. Thankfully, the flying glass didn’t touch her.
She became aware of two things while she laid there—her breath, hard and heavy, and the loud crunch of the Drakkon’s claws as it walked across the glass. His presence would have been oppressive, taking up most of the room, ducking his gigantic head beneath the low ceiling. But the sunlight reflected off his cerulean scales, bringing different hues of blue, green, and purple to life. She watched him, bound to her chair and unable to move while he swung his head in her direction. When he saw her, he extended his long neck until his scaly face was just above her.