Faine rolled his eyes. “I had forgotten how vain you creatures are. I must certainly beg pardon. You are magnificent—I am surprised that bench will hold your magnificence.”
Drake narrowed his eyes at him. “You are touchy.”
“I am hungry,” Faine retorted. “I have traveled far this day and this is the only establishment I have run across in hours that held promise of food.” He lifted his voice at that. “Sometime this eve?”
The people around them fell silent for several moments when he bellowed at the maid across the room. She had paused to gape at him. “Yes, sir! Coming up, sir!” she gasped uneasily.
“Bring a plate for my companion while you are about it, wench! And ale!”
Drake lifted his brows at him. “From whence have you traveled?”
Faine studied him for a long moment and finally lifted his tankard, draining it before he set it down.
Drake swallowed with an effort. His throat was dry as dust from his own travels and he had always been fond of ale. It was one of the few things humans did well in his opinion—brew.
“Blackmoor Forest.”
Drake looked at the unicorn in surprise, abruptly remembering his suspicions of before. “That is a very long way to travel—like that. Four legs would have brought you faster.”
Faine’s lips tightened. “My wings brought me faster than that,” he said tartly. “You are not the only one with wings.”
Drake smiled thinly. “Ah—more and more curious. There are not many of your tribe left. And whence do you travel to that you have decided that two legs will carry you better than wings?”
“If you are curious, spit it out, dragon,” Faine said sarcastically.
Drake grinned abruptly, but there was little humor in the smile. “I am called Drake.”
“That is a great surprise … since you are a Drake. No imagination, the dragons,” he muttered.
Drake glared at him. “You are curiously uncivil, unicorn. What is it that you are up to to travel so far, I wonder? And disguised as a human? You are not on tribal business.”
“I am here on my own business!” Faine snapped. “My name is Faine, and I did not ask for your company … Drake.”
The barmaid, who’d arrived at their table to hear the last of that speech, sloshed ale on the table in her rush to drop the tankards and the plates of stew. Faine slid an evil look from the puddle on the table to the woman. She paled noticeably, snatched a dirty rag from the waist of her gown and hurriedly dried the table before dropping two forks upon the surface. “I’ll be back with a fresh loaf of bread.”
“I am impressed,” Drake said coolly. “You have frightened a witless female—mortal.”
Faine flushed. Hunching his shoulders, he picked up the fork and began to stab at the food on his plate and push it into his mouth.
“Ah,” Drake observed. “I am a touch testy when I am hungry, also.” He picked up his tankard and drained it, setting it down before he availed himself of the other fork and focused on emptying his own plate. He’d nearly cleaned it when the maid returned with the promised loaf of bread. “Another tankard of ale for me and my friend and another plate of the stew.”
She gaped at him, but merely nodded jerkily.
“There’s others here ain’t had the first plate yet,” a man at the next table over growled.
Drake flicked a hard look at the man, staring at him until the man turned pale and turned away.
Faine snorted. “You are in no great humor yourself.”
Drake sighed. “I do not suffer humans gladly. They are a disgusting species.”
“Which begs the question of what it is that brings you here among them.”
Drake mopped up the plate with the bread and shoved it into his mouth. “I am searching for something.”
“Something you lost?”
Drake’s expression twisted abruptly. “Aye.”
Faine studied him a long moment. “This something is not somehow connected to the wizard Artimus?”
“Aye, very closely connected. Is that what has brought you, then?”
Faine glared at his plate. “Aye.”
“He is not taking any chances,” Drake murmured. “Or mayhap he thinks to play us against one another?”
Faine considered that thoughtfully. “It is hard to understand the workings of the mind of humans—especially those of his ilk.”
“Shall we do battle for the prize, then, unicorn? Or combine our wisdom to battle a common foe?”
Faine studied him. “You do not need my help, dragon. You are as powerful as I am.”
“More powerful,” Drake corrected him. “As it happens, this … object that I have lost is far too valuable to me to dismiss the possibility of gaining an ally to strengthen my chances of retrieving it.”
“What is it that the bastard holds of yours?”
Drake swallowed with an effort. “My mate’s egg—the last of her line since he has slain her. And you? What does he hold over you?”
Faine released an explosive breath and finally flicked a hand through the black hair that lay across his shoulders. “He has placed an enchantment upon me, stolen my ability to change at will. By day, I am myself. By night—this.”
Drake looked at him curiously. “I cannot imagine much that is worse than losing one’s will, but I am not certain I completely understand. You had the ability to change before, did you not?”
“And change back at will also,” Faine said tightly. “I chose not to. I despise this form. I despise the thing I become when I am in this form—human! I feel … the things that they do, feel myself changing more and more each day when I am forced to live in this body. I have lost my purity of spirit. I am an outcast of my tribe. I do not know if I can regain what he has taken from me, for I am blacker every day, but I have no choice but to try.”
Drake was damned if he could see that Faine had much to complain of, but he supposed it was not that Faine was worried about the impurity of spirit so much as he was worried about the fact that he would have no mate—which he could understand having lost his own. Or mayhap, it was a combination of that and being outcast from his tribe? The unicorns were not solitary creatures as the dragons were, he reminded himself. They were accustomed to living together. Solitude, he supposed, to one such as Faine was a form of torment.
As for the impurity of his spirit—well, he had not balked at wolfing down the stew and unicorns were not meat eaters. Clearly, he was driven or he would not have come so far. He was not certain how much of an asset Faine would be to him when he was wrestling his own demons, but it would be tricky to rescue his mate’s egg. It might take finesse and he was not good at that. It was as important to acknowledge one’s failings, he thought, as one’s strong points.
He nodded. “It will be better for both of us, I believe, if we pit ourselves against Artimus together. He is a strong wizard—an evil bastard—as evil as they come. I have sworn an oath that I will avenge my mate upon him and free her egg to preserve her line. I do not mind hedging my bets. I do not trust that he will willingly fulfill his end of the bargain. We must be prepared for that.”
Faine considered it, but not long. As badly as he hated to admit it, he knew Drake was more powerful that he was. It was to his benefit perhaps more than Drake’s to join forces with him. “I will not mind either. Shall we go to Belmor Castle then to retrieve the spawn of that creature and take her to him?”
“The sooner the better. I do not want Maud’s hatchling in his hands.”
Drake was outraged at the coin demanded for such a piddling meal. He was not even full! Sullenly, for he hated parting with his gold, he tossed the coins down upon the table before the thieving wench and stalked out of the tavern. Faine, he discovered, was grinning when he finally recovered enough from his pique to glance at his new companion.
“There is something you find humorous, brother?” Drake growled.
Faine shook his head. “It is not a tale, then, about dragons and their gold,” h
e murmured.
Drake narrowed his eyes at Faine broodingly. “And what tales are these?”
“That you are tightfisted as bedamned.”
Drake sucked in a breath of outrage. “That is a lie! We are generous creatures! It is only that I have a dislike of being robbed!”
“You ate two meals,” Faine reminded him.
“Two? By the gods! It was not even enough at two piddling plates!”
“You are a big fellow.”
“I am trim!” Drake growled. He patted his flat belly and struck his fist against his chest. “This is all muscle and you are an insulting twit!”
Faine was amused, but he allowed it to drop and they traveled in silence for several miles. It was Drake who first caught the scent and stopped abruptly. “Magic.”
Faine glanced at him sharply and inhaled a deep drag of breath, trying to dismiss the anger that welled in him that his own senses were so dulled by the human form that he had not noticed. He caught the scent, faintly, but it disgusted him that he had not only not captured it first, he still could not entirely identify it.
He was loathe to admit it, however.
“Elfin. He is a long way from his forest. Shall we wait to see what that other scent is that wreathes him? Or show ourselves, do you think?”
“Unless his own senses are too cloyed with the other scent, I think he will guess that we are here,” Faine said dryly.
Drake nodded. “I thought as much myself. We should simply proceed then and meet him.”
They had not walked much further when Faine’s eyes finally picked out the travelers heading in their direction. They were mounted, but he did not believe that it was the beast that had confused him. The bouncing breasts of the figure on the front easily identified the gender of the forward rider, but he still could not tell whether it was she who was elfin or her companion, much to his disgust.
The horse slowed and finally stopped altogether while still some distance from the two of them.
“Wary,” Drake commented in a low growl and then lifted his voice to address them. “What is that you have with you, elf?”
“What business is that of yours, dragon?” the elf asked coolly.
Drake sniffed the air. “A very great deal, my friend. I have traveled a great distance. I do not believe that I will allow you to make off with the prize that I have been seeking.”
Caelin cursed under his breath. The king’s men behind them and a dragon and a unicorn before him, if he was not mistaken! “The prize is mine!” he growled. “I worked hard for it and I mean to take it with me.”
Drake mulled that over. “Artimus has been very busy. Why, I wonder, would he send an elf when he has already sent me?”
“And the unicorn? Did he send him on his errand, as well?”
“Aye,” Faine replied.
“One prize for three. There is a dilemma,” Caelin said tightly. “I warn you, I will not give it up without a fight. I have a trade in mind that is dear to me.”
“We also.”
Caelin considered that. He was well aware that he had few options, however. The dragon could fly and would if pushed to it and Darkness could not outrun a dragon. “Shall we parlay, then, and see if we can come to an amiable agreement since it seems that we are traveling in the same direction after all?”
“I could simply take her,” Drake growled.
“Dead, she would do you no good,” Caelin responded coldly. “I could slit her throat faster than you can transform yourself. Shall we see?”
Drake considered whether he would or not and realized that he could not tell only from speaking to the elf. If the wizard held a hostage dear to him, however, he would have no more to lose by slitting her throat than if she was taken from him. It seemed likely he would do just as he threatened. “Let us sit down and discuss this.”
“This is a poor place for it, dragon,” Caelin retorted coolly. “King Gerald’s men are no great distance behind us.”
“The bastard did not turn her over to you?” Drake demanded indignantly. “He was to hold her in safekeeping until the wizard sent for her.”
“He seemed loathe to hand her over when I demanded it. I was forced to use guile to enter his keep.”
Drake glanced at Faine. “Already the bastard has lied,” he growled.
Faine shrugged. “In all likelihood, but not necessarily. No doubt that is why he decided to send the three of us. He suspected that Gerald had betrayed him.”
Drake grunted. “Do not forget that you agreed to parlay,” he said. “I will scatter the king’s men, but I will expect you to honor your word and meet me at the mountain pass so that we may sit down and see if we can figure this out.”
“Agreed,” Caelin said readily.
“Follow him, Faine, while I take care of the humans.”
Faine sent him an irritated look. “I cannot shift,” he said pointedly. “I will follow, but I am not likely to keep up in this form.”
Drake grunted. “Faine will go with you.”
“I have no problem with that,” Caelin said grimly. “I gave you my word.”
“On the horse.”
Caelin stared at him. “He is a unicorn. Why can he not shift? Darkness is laboring already! He has run for miles carrying the two of us!”
“It is a long story,” Drake snapped. “Can you take him up? Will you?”
“We will not make the pass riding three!” Caelin snapped.
“Fine!” Drake snapped. “I will carry him myself.”
He snatched at the tie at his throat angrily, loosening the neck of the shirt and pulling it off. “Carry my clothes, Faine. I do not want to have to buy or steal more and it is too cold to run about in nothing more than human skin!”
“And distressing, no doubt, to the humans,” Faine said tartly.
“Are you insulting me again, unicorn?” Drake demanded testily.
Faine chuckled. “I was only thinking that if the man-root you carry in any way matches the size of the rest of you that that would distress the humans no end—and make the ladies swoon.”
Drake grinned abruptly, pleased with that. “It is a fine staff, if I do say so myself.”
Dropping to the ground, he pulled his boots off and set them aside, and then shucked his breeches. Faine had actually been jesting. He was a little startled to discover that Drake had not been merely boasting as he seemed inclined to do. “By the gods! You do not have trouble with wind drag?”
Drake chuckled. “It works well enough as a rudder—and quite well as a rutter, if it comes to that, and that is all that matters to me.”
Faine gathered Drake’s clothing and bundled them. Privately, he had his doubts there were many human females that would not run screaming at the sight of it. He had had a bit of trouble with that himself and he did not have near the breadth or length Drake was swinging. Aye, they were impressed with it, but they were as likely as not to decline taking a ride on it.
Well, he did have near that, but still ….
The elf, he discovered, still lingered and the female in front of him was staring at Drake open mouthed. It irritated him, despite his earlier thoughts. She looked more unsettled when Drake crouched and transformed himself.
Inwardly, Faine shrugged. He was not inclined to think Drake nearly as handsome a creature as Drake had insisted he was. In point of fact, he suffered a qualm at being so near him in his dragon form. Somehow, it had seemed far more reasonable to consider joining forces with Drake when they had both been in human form than it did now.
Apparently, the elf felt the same. When Drake shifted, the horse began to dance rather frantically, and the elf allowed him his head when he abruptly bolted.
Drake flexed his wings, stretching to ease his muscles from being cramped so long in the human form. Gathering force into the muscles of his legs, he dipped toward the ground and sprang upward, beating at the still air near the ground to lift himself aloft. It took far more effort than he had anticipated and it annoyed him. For a few
moments, anxiety wafted through him that he had not displayed his magnificence to the female, but he dismissed it almost immediately, wondering where the thought had even arisen from.
She was human, he thought with disgust, female or not.
He considered why the thought might have occurred to him as he gained an altitude that allowed him to see for several miles, pinpointing the torches in the distance without any trouble at all once he had risen above the trees.
He could not put it down to missing his mate. He did, but he had needs and he had not thought that punishing himself and suffering more would tarnish her memory in any way. He did not grieve less because he allowed himself a little comfort. He had not forsaken his vow.
It should not have been lust then, though he supposed that might be it. She was pleasing to his eyes—for a human female. He struggled with that thought and realized that it was an attempt to lie to himself. He had a loathing for humans in general, and wizards in particular, but he had always found human females to his taste. Of course, they were only for fucking, for assuaging his needs, but they were useful for that when the dragon females had no interest in fucking merely for pleasure, or for amusement.
So, mayhap it was lust.
But she was a bad target for it, he reminded himself, in fact not a possibility.
Artimus had been clear on that—he needed a virginal sacrifice and he meant to have that virgin.
It seemed a great shame to waste a pretty female like that. There were plenty of ugly ones! Why could he not use an ugly, virginal female? And why must it be his own spawn? Human or not, there was something very wrong with that!
Humans! They were a wasteful lot!
He was in a suitable frame of mind once he’d reached the soldiers, he discovered, to want to create mayhem upon them, although, in a general way, he never killed without cause. There was cause, however, he reminded himself. Gerald had sent them to interfere in his quest for revenge and the search for his mate’s child!
They noticed him at once, of course. He was far too magnificent to go unnoticed, dark or not, and they began to lob their missiles at him in panic.
A Lamentation of Swans Page 4