All was quiet. All was dark.
“Maybe it went to sleep.”
Cax shook his head, taking a half step forward. “There’s something wrong about this, all of this. If this is the test, where’s Ali?”
“I was wondering that myself. Perhaps this is just a dream, although I’m not sure if it’s yours or mine.” Hark bent down and scooped a handful of it up. He rubbed it between his fingers. “However, this feels real.”
Both looked at each other in the dim moonlight. It was a moment of utter realization, that whatever awaited them in the cave, it would consume them both.
“What if something happened to Ali?”
“No,” Cax said immediately. “Don’t think that.”
“What if he’s our test?” Hark asked in a horrified whisper. “What if we find him dead in the lair?”
Cax grabbed him by the collar. “I said don’t even think that!”
“All right,” Hark whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Slowly, Cax released him. Ever so slowly, they turned and faced the cavern entrance. Without another word, they made their way through the ankle-deep ash that blanketed the ground. At the mouth, just inside the teeth, they paused.
“I can’t see a thing,” Cax muttered in a low tone.
As if disproving his statement, a flash of fire ignited deeper inside, giving a few seconds of light. It provided enough to let them see the path to follow. They headed in, and a few seconds later another spiral of fire flared. They moved closer, paused, and then walked a little more with the next blaze.
Hark crept close to a corner and threw out his hand to hold Cax back. Silently, slowly, he peeked around the edge then jerked his head back quickly. His eyes were wide.
“What?”
“It’s lying there,” he whispered. “It breathes.”
“It breathes?”
“I can’t see if it’s a boy or girl dragon,” Hark said sarcastically. “I’m a little distracted by trying to not to get caught. Fricassee Hark is not on the menu.”
Cax gave him a thumbs-up.
“Look,” Hark said, pointing. “A way around, come.”
They moved further back into the shadows, threading their way in a cautious wayward circle that led behind the dragon. First Hark, then Cax. Each step was deliberate, each muscle tensed with fear. To them, their own heartbeats were shrill sirens. The alley emptied into the lair and before them, resting still, was him … it … the dragon.
Cax took one step, and then another. Hark reached out and grabbed him around the stomach, trying to hold him back.
“Stop!” Hark growled.
“We have to go through there!”
The sound echoed off the walls, and the dragon looked around, catching them both in one glance. It half rose, wings fluttering against the rock formations. It opened its mouth and let out a roar that shook the stones around them.
They clapped their hands over their ears, eyes squinting shut against the painful sound. It lasted only a moment, but when it was over Hark felt like vomiting. It had been loud enough to disturb his equilibrium. There was no way he could stand another one. He creeped closer to the dragon.
“What are you doing?” Cax demanded as he scrambled to his feet.
The dragon was staring at Hark, the head cocked at a questioning angle as if trying to figure out what to do with someone who had the audacity to enter his home. It opened its mouth, took a deep belly full of breath, and just as it let it out in a hiss of fire, Cax tackled Hark and both went to the ground. The stream of fire passed over them.
The dragon roared again, but this time the two didn’t hesitate. They darted quickly to their feet and ran for cover behind two stalagmites.
“Don’t you dare do that again!” Cax growled.
“I have an idea,” Hark muttered.
“Stay where you are! You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“I can do it.” Hark ran his plan through his head, and hesitated. What if Cax was right? His usual style was to rush in and kill everything, but a dragon breathing fire wasn’t something he could simply wave a sword and shield at. “I think I’ll need your help.”
Cax blinked, looking surprised. “You’re asking for my help?”
Hark nodded. “Please. I think the two of us can defeat it.”
Cax studied him, and whatever he saw must have convinced him to trust a plan he hadn’t heard because he nodded.
Something tight squeezed Hark’s heart, and he had to swallow down the emotion. “All right. You need to distract it.”
“Distract it? Just how do you expect me to—”
Hark suddenly moved away, staying low and darting away.
“Hark! For fuck’s sake!” Hark looked back at him and waved. Cax made to run after him, but rock rained down, halting his progress, so instead he jumped up and waved his arms. “Hey, you big lizard! Over here!”
The dragon immediately focused on him and opened its mouth to breathe fire. Cax darted behind the stone pile just as fire rained down. Using the distraction, Hark took a few running strides and then jumped upon a rock, moving and jumping until he was level with the head. The dragon tried to take a step back, but with the movement of its body in the tight confines, it lodged itself inescapably in the stone. So it tried to snap at him with his teeth, but Hark leaped from his position into the air. As he went airborne, he brought the sword down. It sank directly into his neck. The dragon roared, thrashing, trying to dislodge him. Hark pulled out the knife from his side and started stabbing. Blood flew, coating him. The dragon hissed, weaving on unsteady legs. Hark slid off and took a few steps back as the dragon staggered and fell dead. In the next instant, the dragon crystallized into a white, icy sculpture.
Breathing heavily, Hark picked up one of the heavy boulders that had shaken lose from the ceiling.
“Ahhh!” he roared as he charged with the huge rock in his hands. He brought the stone down on the dragon’s frozen head. The small crack it caused traveled, and Hark scrambled back as the creature exploded in a shower of white powder.
Cax finally managed to climb over the pile of loose rock and hurried forward. They stood there, both covered in a fine mist of the stuff, staring at what remained of the beast. Then Hark chuckled, and once started, the humor couldn’t be contained as it morphed into loud guffawing.
Cax shook his hair, turning it prematurely gray as the white powder mixed with his natural black, and swatted at his clothes. “What’s so funny?”
“I just slew a dragon.” Hark bent over, hands on his knees, as tears of mirth started to trail through the dust on his face.
Cax eyed him, then at the half remaining creature that still stood next to them, and suddenly his own laughter joined Hark’s, bouncing off the cave’s walls to echo around them in symphony. They laughed until everything came to a sudden halt. Cax stopped in mid chuckle. The powder floating in the air froze. Hark broke off his mirth and blinked, looking around him. He walked over to Cax and finger-touched his nose. The man didn’t move.
“You know he isn’t real.”
Hark looked toward the voice and saw the Faither. Suddenly, memories came flooding back, and he spun around. “I don’t understand. Cax is right here.”
“In spirit,” the old woman replied, nodding. “Your test is almost complete.”
“All of this was fake?”
“It was the test inside your mind.”
Hark frowned. “What does that mean?”
She pointed a wrinkled, crooked finger at him. “You are weakest of the three. Anger and craving scratch deep inside your soul, and to prove yourself worthy you must choose.”
Hark didn’t like having this old woman strip away his layers. “I’ve conquered my demons.”
She cocked her head to one side. “Not all of them.”
The cave went dark. Hark spun around, but the Faither had gone as quickly as she had appeared. A bright light flashed in front of his eyes, and he blinked against the harsh glare. When it faded, an
d he opened his lids, he found himself standing back in Eyvindar, in his old room. Before him were several bottles.
Moon-ivy wine.
His mouth watered, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d taken the steps to stand in front of them. He remembered the wonderfully bitter taste of the wine as it hit his palate, the smoothness as it slid down his throat, and he craved the oblivion it offered. He picked up a bottle and broke the seal, smelling the heady aroma as the scent washed over him.
One drink. What would one drink hurt?
Nobody would know.
He brought the opening up to his mouth, ready to tip his head back and take a deep drink, but a noise halted his fall into drunken pleasure. He paused, listening, and a faint cry reached him, the same cry he’d heard back at the dragon’s lair. Ali needed him, and Cax needed him. They needed him to be strong to fight for their future. He gathered all the rage in his body and roared out his frustration, just before he threw the bottle against the wall.
The witch was right. He was the weakest link. He might have the brawn, but he didn’t have the mental willpower like his mates had. If he had their strength of mind perhaps he wouldn’t keep caving to the drink’s call. Shaking, he stared at his fists and let the self-disgust and anger gather until it boiled over as he picked up the next bottle and let it follow the first. One after another, glass shattered against the hearth, and when he was done, he slumped to his knees, unable to gather any energy to rise. He felt empty. Hollow. Until a bony hand came to rest upon on his shoulder. He looked up at the Faither.
“Wake up.”
The words tumbled through his mind like a drone of bees.
“Wake up!”
At the command, he did just that. He blinked, and his eyes felt like tree bark. Squeezing them tightly, tears formed to moisten and wash away any lingering dryness. As he opened his eyes once more, the Faither came into view, and Hark screeched.
“Ah! Don’t do that, woman!”
She sneered at him and then jerked with a thumb. “There’s been an unexpected development.”
“Cax or Ali?”
Instead of answering, she took a few steps back. Hark stood but had to wait a moment until the world around him stopped spinning. Vowing to never drink anything purple again, he saw Ali kneeling over Cax, who lay as he had before except now a thin cut rested on his right cheekbone. Blood had collected at the corner that dipped furthest and congealed into a perfect teardrop. He knelt beside Ali and wiped at the wound on Cax’s face.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He is about to fail,” the Faither said.
“Fail? What do you mean fail?”
“He has to choose, and so far, he won’t.”
That made no sense to him whatsoever.
“Well, then, how do I help him?” Hark glanced at Ali. “How do we help him?”
He looked at the old woman, silently imploring her to tell him how to help his mate. Was Cax fighting the dragon alone?
“I cannot see which one of you he’ll choose.”
He wanted to punch her in the face, but figured that would be counterproductive, so he leaned over and whispered into Cax’s ear.
“Come back to us,” he said softly. “We need you, Cax.”
Ali leaned into the other ear. “Choose Hark. He needs you more.”
Hark stared at him in shock, speechless. Was that what the old woman meant? Cax had to choose between them?
“Ali—”
Ali shook his head and put a finger up to his mouth. Hark decided it wasn’t the time to argue, but once the miserable test was over the three of them would have a long talk.
Chapter Seven
Cax sat straight up, heart beating frantically as he searched out his mate. A heavy body lay next to him, breathing deeply in sleep, and he relaxed a little as he remembered the nightmare. He’d been fighting a dragon with Hark, and they had barely survived while they searched for Ali, only Ali had been in the ice lands being held captive. For a moment, he had thought he’d lost both mates.
What the hell would he do if Hark had been killed? Or they hadn’t reached Ali in time when he’d been a prisoner of Laurltrant? It was a question he hoped never to face. He ran a trembling hand over his sweaty face and sat up slowly, taking care not to disturb the other two people in the bed. He shifted Ali’s arm that was draped over his thighs, taking a moment to brush the red hair back from his face. He lay on his stomach with his head turned toward him. Hark lay next to Ali, on his side, his leg slid in between Ali’s and his hand snug in the curve of his back.
Limbs gleamed in the moonlight. Each one was naked in the summer night, but three sets of body heat provided enough warmth. Cax gave a deep sigh and wondered about the relationship they had all entered into. He had known, when he had mated with Hark and Ali, just what he was agreeing to, but he wondered if Dalten was right. Having people to care about made him weak. What if, on some mission, he had to choose between them?
That question was enough to keep him up all night because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let either one of them go. With the bitter memory of the dream swirling in his mind, he rose silently and grabbed his leather breeches, heading outside to clear his thoughts.
As he stared up at the moon, a scream came from the far edge of town. He jerked around and listened again, just to make sure he heard what he thought he had, and when the sound came again, he ran toward it. Someone was in pain, someone needed help, and he ran without thought to the fact he wasn’t wearing shoes, or a shirt, or even a weapon.
“Cax!”
Cax came to a halt, breathing heavily. “Ali?”
But Ali was asleep back in the Faither’s bed. Wasn’t he? The dream came back to haunt him, and he continued forward until he fell through a hole he hadn’t seen.
“Ahhh!”
He landed with a heavy thud upon the unyielding ground, and it took him a moment to blink away his double vision and assess if he had any broken bones. Slowly, Cax sat up and looked around, realizing he was in a huge cavern. He stood, weaving, and looked up, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of the hole.
“Cax!”
“Ali? Ali! Where are you?”
A light flared in the cavern, and he spun around. The double visions ended abruptly, right outside a large den filled with light, and he paused to shake his head, hoping to shake off the residual headache. Then he took a deep breath and stepped from the darkened tunnel through the streaming beam of sunlight, into a larger section. He shook his head, as if that would adjust his eyes better to the sudden flare of brightness. The cavern dissected into two corridors, lending to a T formation, whose entrance ways lay shadowed.
“Ali?” he called out.
“Cax!” Ali called out. “Help me! It’s … Laurltrant! I’m trapped!”
Shock tore through him. Laurltrant? The man was dead! Before he could process anything more Hark’s voice came from the other corridor.
“I’m here, Cax! Come help me!”
Cax looked between each passageway. Both his mates? It was his worst fear imagined, now staring him in the face. How could he possibly help one without helping the other?
“Tell me what’s wrong!” he shouted. “Both of you, so I know who’s in more trouble!”
He received no answers, but through the chamber came the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. The sound sliced over Cax’s nerves, bringing forth a round of chill bumps on his arms that sent his teeth grating together. Unthinking, he reached for his Bloodletters, only to remember he had no weapon.
Then from the darkness, a specter appeared, dressed in black with a hooded doublet covering the face. A measure, he was sure, that was meant to rattle his nerves. Cax took a step back, trying to reassess the situation. This was a battle he was ill prepared to fight, but the specter threw him a sword, still encased in its scabbard, then pointed from him to the sword.
“You want to fight?” Cax demanded. “Who are you? Are you holding my
mates captive?”
The cloaked figure said nothing. It simply waited.
“Cax!” Hark suddenly yelled, his voice echoing from the right corridor. “I’m trapped!”
“What? How?”
“The dragon—”
A roar cut him off, drowning out whatever else he was trying to say.
“Hark!” Cax yelled. “Hark!”
Cax’s heart thumped fearfully in his chest. He had a decision to make, but he didn’t know which way to turn. The specter blocked his path to either passage so it was clear the first thing he had to do was eliminate the obstacle. Cax pulled the sword free, bringing his chin down a notch as he stared at the faceless warrior in front of him. The specter twirled his sword once on the outer edge of his arm, flexing his fighting wrist and giving the impression he was completely at ease with the dance they were about to engage. Cax crouched, limber in the legs, and brought his blade up halfway to wait for the attack. He’d be damned if he would initiate the duel and give the bastard the upper hand.
In a sudden, swift movement, the specter twirled and brought his blade in a forceful lunge. Cax barely caught it as he thrust his own steel up to block. After that, the play began of parry and thrust, beating Cax back to the edge of the cavern. There was no grace or style to the fight, only the moves coordinated from an instinct of kill or be killed. Cax ducked from another swipe and charged forward, regrouping on the other side.
“Ali! Hark!” Cax waited, desperate to hear his mates. One sign they were still with him. Nothing but silence answered back.
Cax tried to concentrate solely on the fight before him, but it was hard to focus. He ducked as the specter’s blade whooshed toward his neck. With a quick bob, he avoided the lethal cut but managed to get his cheek sliced. A small trickle of blood ran down to his chin as he pushed his own blade up, only to be halted as the warrior’s hand closed over Cax’s wrist to stop the blow. Caught in a grip stronger than he’d ever known, Cax realized this was more than a mere fight. He was up against something dark and powerful, something he couldn’t possibly win against.
Dark Journey Page 4