Deceived? Plans? Suddenly Brynn remembered just what had happened. Drake had tricked her into drinking the sleeping potion. She needed to wake up. She needed to set the prisoners free before he executed them.
“I know another way to reach her. You just let me be.”
“Aye,” she heard Birdie answer with a whimper to her voice. “I’ll wait in the kitchens for your word of her recovery.”
She heard the sound of a closing door, and then smelled sage burning nearby. She felt warmth near her hand, like fire. Fire giving her the strength to moan, but not to open her eyes.
“Brynn, this is Juturna.”
Good. At least Drake hadn’t thrown her into the dungeon with the prisoners. Not yet, anyway.
“I know you can hear me. Drake has gone to kill Dracus. You need to stop him. You need to help him.”
Brynn found herself in her dreamwalking form, hovering above her own sleeping body. Juturna was burning sage by her head. She held a prayer candle near Brynn’s skin - the warmth that brought her the strength to leave her body.
“You need to go to him. Go to the water. You need to go to Drake’s father and convince him not to kill his son.”
Go to Dracus? Why? she thought.
As if Juturna could hear her thoughts, the old seer moved the candle flame away from her hand and spoke close to Brynn’s ear. “Convince his father to let him live. Go to Dracus in your dreamwalking form.”
Yes, I’ll go.
Brynn no sooner thought about Drake than she was at his side. He was standing on the sacrificial rock, his sword with the dragon-head hilt raised high in the air. She saw Asad standing nearby, sword at the ready, and archers in position with swordsmen on the side.
No, she said though no one could hear her. This is not right. No one else must die because of Aurelius Pendragon.
Drake called forth the dragon, but it did not come. She could see the sadness in his eyes overtaking the anger. The sky wasn’t even cloudy, and she was not surprised.
Take me to Dracus, she said, not at all sure she wanted to go to the depths of the sea to the dragon’s lair, even if it were only in her dreamwalking form. Still, she knew she had to do it. For Drake’s sake, she needed to try to talk to his father and convince him not to strike.
She found herself in darkness. She knew water enveloped her, and even in her dreamwalking form she was apprehensive. It couldn’t hurt her now. She was spirit, not flesh. She had to be strong. She had to convince Aurelius Pendragon not to kill his son.
Show me the dragon, she said with conviction. Immediately, she was whisked away to the dragon’s lair. It was a gloomy, horrid place, in a void of darkness and unbearable discomfort. It reminded her a lot of the place deep beneath the pool in the cave. Her surroundings reeked of hatred, greed, death, and all things evil. This must be where the sinners go once they die, she thought. It was murky, and putrid, more foul than the garderobes on a hot day, or even the slime at the bottom of the moat. This was hell if she would ever see it. This was the dragon’s lair.
She saw Dracus directly ahead. He was lying on the mucky ground, head down in submission. The dragon’s eyes were closed as it slumbered, probably digesting the last of the sacrificed virgins.
Face me, Aurelius Pendragon, she called, trying to lure the man’s etheric form out of the dragon’s physical body. I want you to stop killing people. Please don’t kill your son. Let him be. You are an evil, evil soul.
While the dragon continued to sleep, an orange mist rose above it, seeping out of every one of the beast’s scaly pores. She knew it was the dreamwalking form of the beast coming to greet her. She floated motionlessly, waiting, watching, wondering if this man were as horrid as he was in the pool at the cave. The mist lifted, swirling around her head, slowly taking the shape of a man. Then the mist settled at her feet, showing her the dragon’s etheric form.
Brynn screamed when she saw it. The sight scared her more than anything ever had. He didn’t talk, but didn’t need to, because she knew this man better than most people - or so she’d thought.
Aurelius Pendragon was nowhere in sight. He wasn’t the feared and infamous Dracus as Drake had thought. Standing directly in front of her stood the Dragon’s Son. Dracus was no other than her husband, Drake!
THE DRAGON AND THE DREAMWALKER
CHAPTER THIRTY
Brynn jerked herself out of her dreamwalking state, too disturbed to even let the sleeping potion stop her. She tried to sit upright in the bed, but Juturna pushed her back into the pillows.
“Easy, Brynn,” warned Juturna. “The potion won’t wear off for awhile yet.”
She looked at the window and realized the sun was just rising on the horizon. It was the start of a new day. A day she wasn’t looking forward to at all.
“What did you see?” asked Juturna. “What did Drake’s father say when you asked him not to kill his son?”
“He didn’t say anything,” she told him. “Dracus is not Aurelius Pendragon. Dracus is Drake!”
“Impossible.” Juturna seemed very puzzled. “He can’t be. If he was the dragon, then he wouldn’t be in human form also. A Pendragon is said to take shape of the dragon, but not two forms at once.”
“I don’t understand it either,” said Brynn. “None of this makes any sense to me. One dragon sits at the bottom of a pool as Drake’s father, and the other - the other I’m beginning to think is my husband somehow.”
“I know who can help us,” said Juturna. “Come with me, Brynn.”
“I can’t stand.”
“You’ve got to try. Drake’s life may depend upon it.”
“Where are we going?”
“Down to the dungeon.”
“To set the prisoners free?”
“At least one of them,” was all Juturna said before she helped Brynn to her feet and led her to the door.
* * *
“I don’t understand it,” said Asad, handing Drake a chunk of bread. “We’ve waited throughout the night, and yet Dracus does not come.”
Drake took the bread he offered, gnawing at the hard crust. He looked around, seeing half his men sleeping and the other half engaged in a game of chance. He was feeling tired and weary himself. Also bad for what he’d done to Brynn.
“You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?”
“Hmmm?” Drake ripped off another hunk of bread and raised a brow. “Who?”
“Who else? Your wife. You haven’t even cursed once since we’ve been here. And here your men sleep and play dice and yet you say nothing to reprimand them.”
“I guess I’m just tired.”
“Or in love.” Asad handed the flask of ale to Drake. Drake raised it to his lips, drained it, and handed it back.
“Mayhap,” he agreed. “I’ve never felt this way before.”
“You’ve never been married before either.”
“Or in love,” he admitted. “Strange feeling, isn’t it?”
Asad smiled and nodded his head eagerly. “I’ve known it many times in my country.”
“You’ve lived the life of a son of a sheik, Asad. You had a harem of women at your fingertips. What you knew wasn’t love, it was lust.”
“Perhaps it was.” Asad frowned, considering the thought. “Mayhap I need to take lessons from you on how to love a woman?”
That made Drake laugh. Asad laughed along with him. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”
“Good enough, my lord. In the meantime, I’ll watch for Dracus.”
Drake threw the crust into the sea and stood, wiping crumbs from his clothes. “He’s not coming.”
“How can you be sure?” Asad squinted, looking into the morning sun, searching the waves for any disturbance.
“I think Brynn was right.”
“My lord?”
“She said Dracus only came when I was angry. I guess I’m not angry enough for the dragon to show its ugly head.”
“I don’t understand, my lord.”
“Ne
ither do I, Asad. Since I don’t feel the least bit angry at the moment, I suggest we go back to the castle and wait for Brynn to awake.”
“And then?” Asad cleaned up the remnants from their meal and stuffed them into the saddlebags.
“And then I’ll have something to be angry about. No matter what that girl does it’s going to anger me. So then we’ll have a dragon to kill.”
“Is this part of love?” asked Asad, amused. “You have to anger each other in order to love each other?”
Drake chuckled. “It is where we’re concerned. Brynn and I feed off each other’s emotions. That’s what makes the relationship so exciting.”
“I still don’t understand,” said Asad, scrunching his face in concentration.
“Mayhap I’ll explain it to you one day. When I figure it out.”
Drake rounded up his men, preparing to make their way back to the castle.
* * *
“Open this door, anon,” Brynn instructed the guard. She held on to Juturna for balance and pointed at the dungeon cell that held the old man.
“Lord Thorndale hasn’t instructed me to release any of the prisoners,” answered the guard.
“I am his wife. You’ll do as I order.”
“I’m under instructions not to open the cells for anyone but Lord Thorndale. I’m sorry, but I cannot do as you request.”
Brynn looked inside the cell and noticed a rat nibbling on the body of a dead man. She realized the older knight, Sir Burgess, had died since she last saw him. It horrified her to think she was partly responsible for this death. Her heart went out to the prisoners, yet Drake’s accusing words of her betrayal stuck in her head. The woman prisoner sat in the corner comforting her crying children, and the younger knight tried to comfort them all. The old man was talking to the rat like it was an old friend. Brynn wanted nothing more than to run far from this whole situation, but she knew she had to be strong and face it head on.
“There’s a man in there who’s hurt,” said Juturna. “I need to administer herbs to him. Now let me in.”
The guard looked at her, then slowly turned his head and observed Sir Burgess. “He looks dead to me,” said the guard. “Why bother?”
“Look closer,” said Juturna. “I just saw him breathe.”
When the guard took a step closer, Juturna took her bag and hit him over the head. He fell to the ground with a loud thump.
Brynn jumped back, startled at the sight. “What did you hit him with?” she asked Juturna.
“My gazing crystal.” Juturna opened the bag to show her. However, the impact against the guard’s head had caused the crystal to shatter.
“Juturna, I’m so sorry.” She eyed the broken bits and pieces of shattered crystal.
“Not as sorry as that guard will be when he wakes up and finds himself in the cell with the prisoners. Help me get the keys.”
Brynn felt dizzy and had to hold on to the wall for support. Juturna unlatched the keys from the guard’s waist and opened the door. “Come here, old man,” she called, and he came. She pulled him out the door and tried to push the guard inside. Sir Broderick ran over and helped her, grabbing the man under the arms, pulling him into the cell.
“How about it?” he asked. “Will you let us out too?”
Juturna turned and looked at Brynn in question. “’Tis what we’d planned on doing all along.”
Brynn heard the cries of the others, all banging on their cells, begging to be set free. She felt the urge to release every one of the prisoners before their lives were taken at the hand of the executioner, but something stirred deep inside her, telling her if she did she’d only be betraying her husband once again. She needed to earn Drake’s trust after what she’d almost done to him with the tainted wine. She needed to be a loyal wife and stand at his side supporting any decision he made. Mayhap she could change his mind about the prisoners over a candlelit dinner and flickering fire. Mayhap there were better ways of changing her husband’s mind. Ways that were persuasive but not as deceiving. If only she could convince him.
“I can’t.” Brynn slammed the cell door shut before the man could escape. This caused a ruckus out of the prisoners in all the cells. They cursed at her and called her witch, but she just ignored them, speaking to Sir Broderick. “I’ll do what I can to convince Drake not to kill any of you, but I’ve no authority to change his decision.”
“My, you’ve changed,” said Juturna. “From where did this act of respect come?”
“’Tis no longer an act, Juturna. ’Tis something I should have had for him all along. Drake is my husband. I have to respect his word if I expect him to do the same for me. I will never betray him again. I love him too much to go against him.”
“Then let’s go save him,” said Juturna directing Brynn and the old man up the stairs.
Brynn walked out into the sunshine, feeling the warm air on her face. It brought her back to her senses, though she still found it difficult to operate her body properly.
“When will this wear off?” she asked Juturna, as she staggered over to a wagon loaded with hay. The mere jaunt up the dungeon stairs and out into the courtyard already left her gasping for breath.
“Soon,” said Juturna. “But I’m afraid it won’t be soon enough.”
“The dragon slumbers, but is about to awake,” said the old man. “With the lord’s anger and every step he takes.”
“Are you trying to say that Dracus is Drake?” asked Brynn. “How can that be?”
“The Pendragon becomes that what he thinks,” said the old man. “He must slay himself in order to be free.”
“I think I understand,” said Juturna. She sat Brynn down on the edge of the wagon. A horse neighed from the front of the cart. “Drake will become the dragon if he does not change his evil ways. He is very close to becoming Dracus already. That’s why you saw his form in the dragon’s lair. Once the dragon consumes him, there’ll be no turning back. The physical Drake will be trapped forever. Just like his father.”
“Yes, yes,” said the old man with wide eyes. “The Dragon’s Son will become what his father did. He must find a way to slay his dragon without a sword or he will be consumed forever.”
“You still don’t make sense, old man.” Brynn’s head was starting to hurt from all the man’s idle chatter.
“Yes, he does,” said Juturna. “He’s saying that Drake’s thoughts, his anger, his fears are what conjured up Dracus in the first place. Don’t you see? With every negative thought he’s personally created this dragon. He’s the one who birthed it, and he’s the only one who can stop it.”
“His hatred for his father,” added Brynn, suddenly understanding.
“Exactly.” Juturna laid a hand on the old man’s back in silent gratitude. “Every time Drake is angered, the dragon comes.”
“’Tis true,” cried Brynn. “And every time he tries to kill the dragon, the beast only becomes larger and stronger.”
“The dragon’s fed, the dragon grows.” The old man climbed into the cart with Brynn. “Starvation is the dragon’s foe.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” said Brynn, “but I think we need to find Drake quickly. Let’s find a page to drive this cart and get us to Lornoon before it’s too late.”
“I’ll not wait for a page.” Juturna lifted her skirts above her ankles, climbing up into the driver’s seat. “Hold on you two, we’re going to find the dragon.”
With Juturna’s slap of the reins, the horse jolted off, causing Brynn to fall back into the hay. She watched the sky above her, dizzier than ever, holding on to the side of the cart for dear life as they sped away toward Lornoon. She closed her eyes and prayed for Drake’s soul. She only hoped they could reach him before he was consumed by the dragon, and turned into Dracus forever.
THE DRAGON AND THE DREAMWALKER
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Drake rode through the gates of Thorndale Castle later that morning. His men followed, tired and in need of food and rest. His atte
mpt to stir the dragon was uneventful, but he was sure his bout with Brynn was going to bring up the anger he needed for Dracus to appear.
“Shall I take Gollimer for you, my lord?” Asad slipped off his own horse, running a hand over Gollimer’s nose.
“Aye,” said Drake, lowering his body from his steed. “I’m sure I won’t need him until this evening. By the amount of sleeping potion Brynn drank, it’ll be at least nightfall before she’s able to argue with me.”
“Aye,” answered Asad. “That’ll give you and the men enough time to replenish yourselves.”
“I’m going to sleep, Asad. Make sure to check on the new falconer before you rest.”
“I will, my lord.”
Drake headed off to his chamber, wondering if he was going to be able to sleep while Brynn lie in his bed next to him. He was either going to make love with her or strangle her. Mayhap both. Right now he wasn’t sure which.
The castle seemed very quiet today, and he wondered where Juturna was hiding. He’d have to talk to her as well, about her plans to deceive him. He’d known her since he was a child. Though he didn’t question her outrageous actions, he did question her motives of disrespect.
He opened the door to his room quietly, wanting to get some rest before Brynn awoke from her slumber. The shutters were half closed, and though a stream of light made its way into the room, the bed was shrouded in darkness. He removed his sword, laying it on the trunk by the foot of the bed, then sat on the mattress to remove his boots.
Something wasn’t right. The bed covers were crumpled, but her presence wasn’t here. He jumped up, throwing back the covers to find an empty bed.
“Damn! Where could she be?”
Then he thought of the prisoners, and how Brynn had wanted him to free them. The castle and courtyard did seem very quiet, and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach she’d done something to betray him again. Something she was going to regret, once he had words with her. She must have carried out her plan after all. He hurriedly strapped on his sword and ran down the steps, making his way to the dungeon.
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