Lucan

by Susan Kearney

  “Friends are very dear to a dragonshaper,” the Elder instructed him. “See that you don’t disappoint my lady.”

  Benoit acted like a proud grandmamma defending her grandchild. For Cael to inspire that kind of trust, love, and loyalty made him proud. He met Elder Benoit’s gaze with deference.

  Cael was quick to praise him. “Without Lucan, I’d have died along with the others in the lab. He convinced me we would survive. But now we’ve been framed for arson and murder.”

  “So I’ve been told,” the Elder said. “Have you any idea why?”

  “Perhaps the military covet our success.” Cael pursed her lips, her eyes thoughtful. “Even if we don’t find the Grail, Avalon promises to reveal untold history and possible technological advances. Just the ability to duplicate that shield could change the balance of power on Pendragon.”

  “How?” the Elder asked.

  “It could make the military invincible,” Lucan explained. “Right now the military defends this moon and also has police authority, yet it still relies on government funding. But if the military can duplicate the shield, they could sell the technology and become independent of the government.”

  “And if the Grail is there,” Cael added, “can you imagine the wealth and power that could be gained by owning it? Who wouldn’t want a shield against death?”

  Elder Benoit folded her trembling hands into the sleeves of her tunic. “So whom do you suspect?”

  “Everyone,” Cael said. “The military, especially General Brennon, and possibly Sir Quentin.”

  “Everyone?” The Elder contemplated Lucan with a raised eyebrow.

  He returned Elder Benoit’s steady gaze. “When I went into the lab to look for survivors, I could have killed Shaw—”

  “But you didn’t,” Cael said. “You were with me when the fire started. We watched the military feed the flames together.” She frowned at him, and her defense warmed his heart. But if Cael ever found out who he really was and that his real intention was to take the Grail to Earth, she’d have every right to feel betrayed.

  “Please,” the Elder said warmly. “Let’s sit. Have some tea.”

  “Thank you.” Cael helped the older woman onto a cushion, then took her own seat beside a square low table. Lucan sat next to her. The Elder poured the fragrant tea, and a rich aroma filled the air.

  “Elder Benoit, why are you greeting us here,” Cael asked, “instead of the Great Hall?”

  “It shames me to admit that not all the Elders believe in you as I do.”

  Lucan sat up straighter. The Elder Benoit had couched her words in gentle language, but if there was dissent here, perhaps Rion’s prediction of a traitor among the Elders was true.

  Cael set down her tea. “Then perhaps it’s best we speak in private, esteemed Elder, for I have broken—”

  “Don’t say anything else,” Lucan interrupted. As much as he needed to know if her blood transfusion would have dire consequences, he refused to allow her to put herself at risk for that information. “We agreed—”

  “I trust Elder Benoit as much as I trust you,” Cael countered, her voice strong and certain.

  Lucan couldn’t tell her that her trust in him wasn’t warranted, not without giving away his cover. And if she was wrong about him, she could be wrong about Elder Benoit. “It’s not necessary to—”

  “Let me decide what’s necessary.” Cael turned to Elder Benoit. “The military shot us down. Lucan was badly injured. To save his life, I gave him my blood.”

  Elder Benoit choked on her tea. Coughing and sputtering, she raised a napkin to her pale lips. “By the Goddess, child, what have you done?”

  “That’s one reason I came.” Cael’s voice shook with emotion. “I hoped you could tell us what’s going to happen to him.”

  “You broke our most sacred law.” Tears brimmed in Elder Benoit’s eyes.

  “What’s going to happen to Lady Cael?” Lucan asked.

  “She ignored a sacred taboo.” Agitated, the Elder used her cane to shove to her feet. “I don’t know if I can save her.”

  “Save her?” Stomach knotting, Lucan looked from Cael to the Elder. “What are you talking about?”

  A tear traveled through the wrinkles in Elder Benoit’s face. “According to ancient law, any dragonshaper who shares blood will be executed. Anyone who accepts that blood will also be executed.”

  “And I will be the executioner.” Another Elder in long robes stepped from behind the screen and raised a weapon at the three of them.

  Lucan edged his hand toward the blaster Rion had given him.

  “No, Selick.” Elder Benoit spoke calmly, like a teacher admonishing a child who had spoken out of turn in class.

  Elder Selick’s eyes didn’t flicker. “They’ve blasphemed against the Goddess.”

  Selick adjusted his stance, aimed at Cael. Three things happened simultaneously. Lucan lunged to cover Cael. Selick fired. And Elder Benoit stepped forward, placing her frail body between Lucan and Cael and the blast.

  Selick ignored Lady Benoit as she slumped to the floor. Again he targeted Cael. Before he could shoot again, Lucan fired at Selick, and the man dropped.

  Cael crawled out from under Lucan and over to Elder Benoit, and her eyes widened in horror. “Esteemed Elder?”

  The woman smiled and took Cael’s hand. “I’m still here, child.”

  Cael gently cradled the woman who had been so kind to her. Her wound was massive. “I’m sorry. We’ll get you to a medical center.”

  “I’m dying. I was already dying, child. It’s my time to go to the Goddess.” Benoit squeezed Cael’s hand tight. “Remember to follow the green light.”

  “Green light?” Lucan asked.

  Cael shook her head in confusion, and tears filled her eyes.

  “Remember.” Elder Benoit closed her eyes.

  “Goddess, forgive me.” Cael’s voice was heavy with grief, and Lucan’s heart ached for her.

  “She was a very brave lady. And she would want you to flee.”

  “Flee?”

  He pointed to the Elder Benoit and Selick. “You can be sure we’ll be blamed for these murders, too.” He tugged her to her feet. “We have to go.”

  “I must say the sacred prayers for her.”

  “She wouldn’t want you captured. Someone’s going to investigate those shots. We have to get out of here.”

  Cael nodded and let out a strangled sob. In the next instant her sob became a roar, and Cael dragonshaped, collapsing the building around them.

  Lucan climbed onto her back, pulled the harness out of their pack, and buckled it over her shoulders. Then she spread her huge wings and took to the air.

  He expected to see a clear moonlit sky. He expected the night air and rushing wind to calm his racing heart. What he hadn’t expected was a fleet of airships clearing a distant mountaintop, headed directly for the retreat.

  The full squad of military ships bearing down on the city was the equivalent of a declaration of war. And Lucan and Cael were the enemy. Fortunately, the ships couldn’t get a visual on Cael from such a distance, but their radar might.

  Get us out of here.

  Merlin flew into position on her wingtip, and Cael beat her wings hard and fast. Lucan hunched his body low against hers and stayed streamlined, clinging to the harness.

  Where are you taking us?

  Undernest.

  She sent an image of a roaring waterfall, which made no sense to Lucan, but he had to trust her, trust her dragon instincts. He had no other choice.

  Faster.

  Hang on. She headed straight for the mountains, flying into a pass, then spiraling skyward on an updraft. She lost the skimmers in pursuit, and for the next hour, he saw no sign of them.

  Then, suddenly, skimmers flew out of a valley below.

  Cael banked hard, before nose-diving straight down. His thighs lost contact with her back. His body floated as if defying gravity, but he clung to the spikes on her neck as well as the ha
rness, certain each breath would be his last. At this speed, even landing in a snow bank would be fatal.

  They plunged into a deep fog bank, and he didn’t dare ask if her dragon eyes could see. Or maybe she had built-in radar. Whatever she used to navigate, she didn’t need distractions.

  Lucan’s left hand slipped off the harness, leaving him dangling by one arm. He gritted his teeth. Reminded himself to breathe. At least death will be quick.

  I thought you liked speed.

  I do when I’m the one flying.

  She pulled out of the dive so gently that he floated onto her back, and she leveled out her flight with a skill no star-ship captain could emulate. Together, Merlin, the dragon, and Lucan spiraled downward.

  The fog cleared, and Lucan saw with his new, sharp eyesight that the landscape had changed. Trees actually grew in this desolate place. Bushes and shrubs clung to dark, rocky crevices. And ahead, the mother of all waterfalls cascaded down the mountain, falling to a deep blue-green ribbon of river miles below.

  The machines overhead grew louder, and Cael flew toward the waterfall. The airships were about to clear the summit.

  Hold on.

  That one thought was his only warning before she flew straight toward the thundering waterfall. If she didn’t turn aside soon, they would hit the water and the cliff behind it dead-on.

  Turn, he demanded.

  No. Her answer was serene, as if she were totally unaware of the danger.

  There’s too much water. That cascade would tear her apart.

  She failed to heed him, and the roar of the water matched the roaring in his head. Hunkering down, he plastered his body to her slippery shoulders and hung on for dear life.

  To acknowledge ignorance is the beginning of knowledge.

  —MERLIN

  10

  Cael’s dragon girth expanded, and Lucan widened his legs. A rumble sounded, and fire shot from her throat. She aimed flames directly at the falling water, and when they struck, it turned to vapor, allowing them to fly straight into an air pocket. The super-heated air might have burned him, except they shot through so quickly that the short blast of heat had little time to register on his cold flesh.

  He hadn’t even gotten wet. Amazing. She’d heated the water to a gas, vaporized it so they could pass through—and flown into an enormous cave. Cael flapped her huge wings, then set down gently. Merlin circled once and flew deeper into the cave.

  Lucan slid from Cael’s back, surprised to find the rocky floor warm beneath his feet. Yards away, he spied the source of the warmth, bubbling blue thermal pools that puffed steam into the air. Beside him, Cael changed into her human shape, and he unpacked her extra clothing and shoes and handed them to her.

  “Did the ships clear the summit before we flew through the water?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “They didn’t see us, but they might pick us up on their instruments.”

  “The cave is laced with platinum, and the metal will stop them from finding us. With the steep peaks in this mountain range, they won’t set down to search on foot. We should be safe here. At least for a while.”

  The combination of their near-death experience at the retreat, the reckless dive off the mountain, the wild ride on Cael’s back, and the almost fatal collision with the waterfall had his adrenaline pumping, his pulse ratcheted way too high.

  And, despite his best efforts, the rush of their near-death experience had shot his libido into overdrive. He wanted to sling her over his shoulder and take her to bed. And since a bed wasn’t handy, any surface would do. Oh, yeah, the image of ripping off her clothes, backing her against the cave wall, and pumping into her was almost irresistible.

  Thank God, she couldn’t read his mind. But she emitted a soft groan of pain. Obviously, she was sensing his sexual hunger. Turning away from Cael, he forced himself to concentrate on their surroundings. Holes in the roof, covered by glacial ice, filtered natural lighting inside the cave, and he saw evidence of an old campfire, ashes surrounded by stones, and an assortment of animal bones in a fire pit. At the back of the cave, steam rose from the heated water.

  Lucan removed his fur cloak, attempted to tamp down his dragon-sized desire, and finally risked a glance in Cael’s direction. Now dressed, she’d dropped to a sitting position on the stone floor. Her head drooped as if she hadn’t the strength to hold it up.

  “Are you all right?” She looked so fragile, the polar opposite of her powerful dragon persona. Watching her mentor die had been terrible for her, and he longed to take her into his arms. But he’d comforted her once before, and he’d barely been able to control his desire. He knew if he touched her now, he wouldn’t stop.

  “Flying here expended a lot of energy. I just need”—she raised her head and looked at him as if she felt the lust coursing through him—“to rest.” She spoke slowly and wearily dropped her head onto her knees.

  Damn it. Not again. He was hard as a rock. And his need was bombarding her. Cael was exhausted, and guilt stabbed him for battering her with his emotions. He locked them down tight. “There’s a price you pay every time you change shape, isn’t there?” he guessed. “That takes energy, too.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely louder than a whisper.

  “How long will it take…” He hated to press her. But the idea of staying here alone with her, with nothing to distract him from comforting her again, was already making him break into a sweat.

  “Not long. Maybe a day or two.”

  A day or two. He didn’t think he could last the hour. His blood was boiling. He had to get away. He dropped the pack with the thermos beside her. “Eat. Drink some water.”

  “Thanks.” She removed a compass, pen and paper, matches, a knife, and finally the thermos, which she emptied.

  He thought she would dig into the pack for food, but instead she pulled it toward her and used it for a pillow. Seconds after closing her eyes, her breathing evened out. She’d fallen asleep, leaving him alone… with his lust.

  Since the temptation to wake her would be too great if he stayed, Lucan took the thermos, pen, and paper, and set off to explore. He headed for the waterfall, the nearest source of moving water. He drank deeply from the mountain stream, appreciating the cool liquid on his parched throat, refilled the thermos, and moved on, wandering through the cave system, sketching the layout as he went. A large cave like this could go on for miles, and his map would ensure he could find his way back to Cael.

  On Earth, prehistoric man had lived in caves like these. Between the fresh water supply, the warmth, and high ceilings, this cave would have made a perfect communal shelter as long as the local food supply could support them. Curious if he might find signs of ancient Dragonians, Lucan walked through the cave, his archeologist’s keen eye in search of traces of man.

  Merlin swooped down, almost as if keeping him company. The owl flew from ledge to ledge, watching his progress.

  When Lucan found no shards of pottery, old bones, or even blackened rocks from prehistoric campfires, he moved deeper into the cave. He chose a wide and level tunnel at random but soon hit a dead end. Turning back, he spied Merlin waiting at the entrance.

  Lucan admired the sheer beauty of the cave system, but he was no geologist. Rocks didn’t hold the same fascination and mystery as ancient peoples. “Perhaps this cave’s too remote from food sources. Or too far from mountain passes or old trade routes,” he muttered.

  Merlin blinked and flew away. Lucan shrugged the tension out of his shoulders. Riding on Cael’s back had strained muscles in his neck and legs. Walking to stretch out the knots did double duty. It took him farther from the temptation of Cael and allowed his abused muscles to recover.

  Lucan found another exit in the cave and risked a glance outside. Ships flew overhead, clearly in search mode. Aware the airships might have heat-detection devices that could target his body temperature, he remained close to the rock walls that conducted heat from the hot springs. Taking stock of his surroundings, he spied
a ledge that he could walk under for miles and remain mostly hidden if he wound his way out of the canyon.

  Turning back into the cave, he caught sight of Merlin flying to a wall. At first Lucan thought the owl had just settled on another ledge. Yet as he turned the corner, he realized Merlin was perched outside a passageway he’d missed earlier.

  Unlike most of the cave, which was well lit from above, this area was dim. He was about to turn back when a straight line in the rock caught his eye. In nature, very few configurations were straight. Not layers of rock, not crevices in ice, not trees.

  With a kick of excitement, he strode forward, scrutinizing the stone wall. Had he found the Dragonian equivalent of a cave painting?

  No. The line was part of an inscription that had been carved into the rock. Years of dust and debris had settled into the ancient image. Wishing he had a soft-bristled brush, he used his palms and then a fingertip to remove sediment. And as the first rune symbols came to light, Lucan’s exhilaration grew.

  The last bit of debris fell away, and his heart nearly stopped. These Pendragon runes were the exact same twig-like alphabet created by people who’d once lived in what was now Germany, Scandinavia, and Great Britain. On Earth the symbols were often related to the practices of Neolithic magic and shamans. And here on Pendragon, runes were clearly associated with earlier peoples.

  “Merlin, look at this.” He felt like dancing, pumping his fist.

  This find verified his theory. Cael’s necklace had been one of many clues suggesting the two planets shared a history, but since neither her necklace’s age nor site of origin could be accurately ascertained, it wasn’t verifiable, uncontestable scientific proof.

  But geologists could date this wall. They could accurately and scientifically estimate the date of carving.

  He’d done it. Just made the biggest find of his career. These runes were incontrovertible evidence that Pen-dragon and Earth shared a history.

  Moving back several paces in order to read the runes, he shivered with excitement. Now if only his search would lead him to the Grail.

  Merlin settled on a ledge above the inscription as Lucan read out loud.