by Bianca D’Arc
Especially when the woman cursed and drew her blade.
“None of your damn business, human. I didn’t want to kill you, but you’ve left me no choice.”
The traitor started walking toward Livia, menace in every step. The wide hallway behind Livia was empty. She knew help was on the way, but would it get there in time? Livia began praying, even as she backed up, keeping pace with the swordswoman in a dance as they moved back down the arched hallway that was the top level of the keep proper before the circular stair to the tower.
They were almost to the stairway Livia had climbed to get to this hall when the swordswoman stopped in her tracks. Livia didn’t dare look behind her, but she felt the heat of a dragon’s presence on her back.
“Hrardorr? Is that you?”
“I am here, Livia. Seth is on my back. He guided me to you. Come to me and touch my neck so I know where you are. If I must flame, I want you under my wing, protected.”
“Thanks be to the Mother of All. I really think this woman was going to try to kill me!”
“Not on my watch. Seth is keeping me informed of her movements, but I need to know you’re safe if I let loose with my fire.”
Livia didn’t need to be told again. She backed up until she was standing with her back against the dragon’s chest, her hand on his shoulder. She could duck under his wing if he flamed, just as he’d told her to do. She cast a quick look around and saw Seth on Hrardorr’s other side, his sword drawn.
“You draw steel in the wizard’s house?” Seth challenged the woman, who now looked as if she was calculating her chances of getting past the blind dragon.
“You’re the trespasser here, human. You and your scaly friends. This is Gryphon Isle. It is not meant for the likes of that.” She cast a disgusted glare in Hrardorr’s direction.
“Tell me,” Seth said, almost conversationally. “How is it that you can wear another woman’s face? Are you bespelled?”
“I need not answer your questions!”
The woman darted forward as if to speed past Hrardorr, but Seth must’ve given Hrardorr the word, and the dragon let off just a lick of flame that stopped the woman in her tracks. She backpedaled away from the line of fire, her gaze furious…and scared.
“Try that again, and he won’t just fire a warning shot,” Seth drawled, seemingly unfazed by the dragon’s flame.
The hallway was made of stone, with only the occasional tapestry hung here and there along the walls. Vaulted stone ceilings supported delicate arches that let in light during the day, but were shuttered up tight at night against the chill. Between each arched window burned a wall sconce, lighting the scene in a flickering golden glow.
“You can’t hold me!” the woman screamed at them.
“I certainly can,” boomed a new voice as the wizard himself made the scene.
Gryffid arrived, moving forward to stand next to Seth. He was waving his hands around in front of him, making arcane gestures that Livia didn’t recognize. Perhaps it was some sort of prelude to magic? She wasn’t sure.
And then, all doubt was removed as a beam of white light shot out from the wizard’s hands to envelop the woman. She writhed and screamed as the appearance of Lillith melted away to be replaced by another face…and then another. And another.
Sweet Mother of All. The woman hadn’t just assumed one false identity, but at least a half dozen. But how?
The obvious answer came to her even as Gryffid’s spell faded. Magic.
The face that was finally revealed was one Livia hadn’t seen since coming to Gryphon Isle, but it was a familiar face nonetheless.
“I’ve seen her before,” Livia whispered. “The fisherfolk call her Mad Meg. She comes into port every few months to sell her wares, most of which are of questionable origin. She runs a small sailboat and goes from port to port peddling her wares.” And probably her body, though Livia wasn’t going to mention that unless asked because it was only a rumor as far a Livia knew.
“Are you certain?” Gryffid asked quietly.
Livia nodded. “She came into my office on her last trip, trying to sell me stolen property. I reported her to the Harbormaster, and she disappeared.”
“What was her cargo?” Seth probed further.
Livia thought back. “Well, she claimed to have rare spices and wines from the East, and come to think of it…she boasted of having a selection of gryphon feathers for sale. But the deal breaker for me was when she showed me a sample of what she claimed was skith leather, but was really the treated leather old William Tanner sends up to the Lair. It had his stamp on it and everything. And the whole town knew he’d been robbed the week before.”
“That was your test,” the woman known as Mad Meg sneered at Livia. “You failed.”
The pieces fell into place in Livia’s mind. “If you were testing me to see if I was crooked, I’m glad I failed.”
More people arrived in the hallway, moving out from behind Hrardorr. The real Captain Lilith, looking all business now as she approached Meg, who still brandished the sword, disarmed the imposter with a quick sweep of her blade. More guards bound Meg’s hands as she started screaming epithets at them.
At Gryffid’s nod, they gagged her. If she knew magical spells, it was probably a wise precaution, making her unable to form the words that might unleash who-knew-what.
As the warriors dragged her away, Gryffid turned to Livia, Hrardorr and Seth.
“Again, you do me a great service. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, milord, but…can you tell me…is she human?” Livia asked hesitantly.
Gryffid shook his head. “Sadly, she is one of ours. A journeyman bard of good family. Her name is, actually, Meg, but she has been out in the world for a while now, and I had no idea she’d returned to the island. I’ll be following up with her family, of course. I don’t know every coming and going from here anymore. Not since I dropped the veil.”
“Is she a mage?” Seth asked, sheathing his sword, now that the danger had passed.
“I thought not. Oh, the gift crops up now and again among the islanders, and I take an interest in their training and character, but as far as I knew, Meg had only a slight bardic gift. Not true magic like that which she used to disguise herself. That had to have been learned elsewhere.”
“She regularly traded in goods from Skithdron,” Livia put in. “King Lucan is said to have been dabbling in sorcery. Perhaps she learned it there?”
“It is a distinct possibility,” Gryffid agreed. “I will be looking into it. For now, can you tell me where she was heading when you spotted her?”
Livia went through, step by step, the path that had taken her to this point. Gryffid asked her to walk with him to the circular stair and describe exactly where Meg had been when she spotted Livia.
She answered all his questions—even the ones that didn’t make a lot of sense to her. At length, he seemed to be satisfied and turned away, calling two guards to stand watch at the base of the circular stairway.
Livia realized then that Meg might not have been alone. There might yet be other traitors wandering the halls of the keep. Just because they’d caught one, didn’t mean there weren’t others.
After taking their leave of the wizard, Hrardorr walked with them back to their rooms. When they got there, Livia realized she didn’t want the dragon to leave. She felt safer with him, and knowing he was safe too. The situation on the staircase had shaken her badly, and she wanted her friends around her, close, where she could be sure everyone was all right.
The entire keep was built on a grand scale, big enough for gryphons, so it was easy enough to guide Hrardorr through the big arched doorway and into the suite. Then, all it took was a few minutes of pushing chairs and a table out of the way to prepare a clear spot for Hrardorr directly in front of the big fireplace.
It wasn’t the massive hearth of the great hall, but it would do. Livia and Seth sat with Hrardorr for an hour or more, just talking about the day’s events and specul
ating on what might happen next. She needed that time with them both. Safe time to just be. Away from danger and people they didn’t know and might not be able to trust.
She yearned for simpler times, but knew she had to find a way to play the hand she’d been dealt. Tomorrow. Tonight, she would lean against her dragon friend and hold hands with one of her lovers, basking in their warmth of spirit, friendship…and love.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The following morning, Sir Gowan found himself in heady company. Not only was he arriving back at the Southern Lair in the company of two of the greatest knights in the land, but they were escorting Prince Nicolas and his wife, Princess Arikia. Gowan had only met them in passing when he first became a knight. To be traveling with them was something else, indeed.
For both Nico and Riki, as they called each other, were royal black dragons. They didn’t ride dragons, they were dragons. They could shapeshift in the twinkle of an eye between human and dragon form. Both of them fairly crackled with magic.
As did the two knights who accompanied Gowan and the royal pair on the return journey to the South. Sir Mace and Sir Drake. Two of the most revered knights of the current age, they were both said to have magical abilities far beyond that of normal men.
Sir Mace was a steady man. A fierce fighter. He was serious and somewhat forbidding, though when he spoke with Drake, he was much more carefree. And when he was with Krysta—their shared mate—he was downright jovial. Surprisingly, Krysta had come along with them on this journey.
Gowan knew the look of her when he met her. She was a fighter too. A warrior woman with grace and style. Gowan had heard about her, of course. She was rumored to have been a guardswoman before meeting her mates, and she still wore a sword that looked more than comfortable across her back.
Sir Drake was something else altogether. A fighter, sure, but also a charmer. Lair rumor had it that he had spent many years roaming the lands as a spy for the kingdom. Having met the man and conversed with him now, Gowan was inclined to believe it. Drake was usually smiling, spinning tales and talking non-stop, in general.
Such verbosity would have quickly gotten on Gowan’s nerves if he’d been partnered with the knight, but Sir Mace seemed to take it all in stride. Drake had surprised Gowan during their travel by asking very pointed questions about Gryphon Isle and the people there. Apparently, the two knights had been to the island before, though information on the place and the wizard who lived there wasn’t freely disseminated in the kingdom. All anyone knew was that the island had reappeared after centuries of hiding behind a magical veil, and it was best to stay clear of the place, unless specifically invited by the wizard.
Gryffid, to Gowan’s knowledge, had issued no invitations.
Gowan had expected some sort of rebuke for taking things into his own hands and all but invading Gryphon Isle without invitation, but the king was surprisingly forthright. He’d thanked Gowan and Genlitha for doing the right thing and reserved his anger for the rest of the Southern Lair.
With the continued hostilities in the North and on the border with Skithdron, King Roland himself could not leave the capital, but Prince Nico had volunteered to check things out. A few hours later, they’d been on their way back, with Drake, Mace and Krysta riding on the backs of Lady Jenet and Sir Nellin. Krysta was riding double with Mace and the two royal black dragons were flying between Jenet and Nellin. Genlitha and Gowan were acting as rear guard.
They flew through the night to arrive on the outskirts of the Lair’s watch at dawn. Genlitha scouted ahead, her natural camouflage in the light of day allowing her to make certain the way was clear for the rest of their party. With all the strange goings on in the Lair of late, they couldn’t be too cautious with members of the royal family’s safety. Dragon shifters were too precious to both races, for they bound the dragons to the men and vice versa. The shapeshifters were the only ones who were deemed worthy to rule over both dragons and knights.
When Genlitha gave the all clear signal, it was only after a meticulous inspection on her part. They also didn’t announce themselves. The posted sentries would see them soon enough, and when they did, the dragons would trumpet a welcome to the royal blacks in their midst. All dragons revered the royal family, as did their knights.
Lady Jenet was also famous among her brethren for her amazing coloring. Pale peach and gold, she was a stunner among dragons and as recognizable as the golden-haired man on her back. Drake and Jenet together just…sparkled. All that golden beauty in one place was a little overwhelming, even to Gowan’s jaded senses.
By contrast, Sir Nellin’s bronze wasn’t nearly as flashy, but he was a fierce dragon just the same. As was Sir Mace. They were as well matched as their counterparts. They were around the same age as Gowan, but their dragons were of a younger generation than Genlitha. Both Sir Nellin and Lady Jenet had only ever partnered with one knight—their current partners. Apparently, Jenet and Drake had been raised together, more or less as siblings, since Jenet’s parents were partnered with Drake’s fathers.
Gowan could see from the way they worked together that theirs was a long-standing relationship. They seemed to anticipate each other’s moves and would, no doubt, be wicked in battle.
When the Lair’s sentries spotted their group, it was as Gowan had imagined. One by one, every dragon in the Lair began to trumpet a welcome. A cacophony of sound greeted them in the early morning light as the group made for the landing platform, high atop the Lair.
Mace and Nellin, along with Drake and Jenet landed first, followed by the two royal dragons, with Gowan and Genlitha bringing up the rear. Gowan appreciated the placement. He feared he’d be persona non grata in the Lair after disobeying orders and going to Gryphon Isle’s defense. This way, the presence of the royal dragons took the spotlight off him a bit.
Still, the knights just stared at him as they made their way down into the hall. The leadership would be at breakfast at this time of day, and Prince Nico and Princess Riki were bound and determined to catch them off guard.
The two black dragons shifted into their human forms as they strode through the halls, flanked by Drake, Krysta and Mace, with Jenet and Nellin right behind. Gowan was in front this time, with Genlitha, leading the way.
When they entered the dining hall, which was almost as large as Gryffid’s great hall, though it was contained inside a mountain, several knights jumped to their feet. Apparently, there were standing orders to stop Gowan on sight, which he’d expected.
But what the knights in the dining hall hadn’t counted on was the presence of the royals or the famous knights from Castleton. The moment they caught sight of Riki and Nico, they were forced to step back and bow to the prince and princess in their midst. The few dragons in the hall did the same until the entire place was so quiet Gowan could hear only the slight click of dragon claws on the stone floors as their party moved forward toward the high table.
Sir Jiffrey and Sir Benrik were seated there, with their dragon partners, Sir Tiluk and Lady Anira behind them.
“This place reeks of magic,” Riki said to Nico in a quiet whisper that Gowan could hear. “It stinks of Loralie.”
A shiver went down Gowan’s spine at that name. He’d heard it before in Castleton. Rumor had it she was a witch who had done nefarious deeds on behalf of the former ruler of the Northlands. She was the one, it was said, who had caused the queen’s Ice Dragon ward, Sir Tor, to be orphaned. The woman was evil and had the ability to command dark magic.
Gowan moved aside to make room for Nico and Riki to see the leaders of this Lair face to face. He went to Nico’s side with Sir Mace, while Lady Krysta and Sir Drake stayed on Riki’s side. The dragons flanked them, with Genlitha moving around to the rear of the head table to cover the leaders’ dragon partners. Gowan saw Nico nod to his wife in agreement before he spoke to Sirs Jiffrey and Benrik.
“Greetings of the day to you all,” Prince Nico began in a pleasant tone that rang through the quiet hall. “I have come from Cas
tleton to find out why you refused to help allies of our kingdom who were in distress. I’ll hear your explanations now.”
All eyes turned to the head table and the sputtering leadership. Benrik got red in the face, but said nothing, while Jiffrey began to mumble excuses. Their dragon partners rose up on their hind legs, and things took on the slow motion quality of fast action, happening in a blur.
Gowan heard the telltale click of the dragons’ preparation to flame, but when the fire came, it came not from the two dragons standing behind their hapless partners, but from the hands of three humans—well, two humans and one royal black dragon. And the flames were not the normal red, orange and yellow of fire, but an eerie blue-green and purple mixture that put it in a category all its own.
Gowan looked again. The fire leaping from Princess Riki’s hands was the blue-green-purple, while the flames issuing from Sir Mace and Sir Drake’s hands was closer to the expected colors of fire, though meshing with Riki’s overpowering influence.
Riki’s fire was aimed at Jiffrey and Benrik while Drake and Mace took on their dragons, somehow stopping the flame in the dragons’ throats before it could issue out to fry the hall and all those in it. Something…melted away, was the only way Gowan could describe it…in front of his eyes as the magical flames worked on the quartet behind the high table.
It took long moments. Again, it felt like time slowed to a crawl while the magical fire filled the hall. When it was done with the leaders, leaving them limp and staggering, it wound its way around the hall, stopping here and there among the older knights. Not all were touched by it, but it seemed to consider each and every being in the Lair as it made its way around.
“What, by the stars, was that?” Gowan heard Jiffrey whisper as he leaned heavily against the high table. Benrik had collapsed into his chair, panting.
“It was evil, Sir Jiffrey,” Drake answered in a voice that carried. Gowan began to believe the stories about this handsome knight having the gifts of a bard. “The four of you were heavily bespelled. Tell me what you remember of the past weeks.”