Son of Dragons Page 6

  He ignored the tiny spiders that pierced his flesh and yanked the blade out. It was curved silver, sharp on both sides.

  When he heard footsteps near him, he aimed the knife. In the distance, he saw another cloaked figure draw back a bow. He raised his arm to throw the weapon.

  Then he saw a red and black striped cat: it was massive, the size of four grown men. Oblivious to his weapon or not caring, the cat lunged for his throat. He brought the blade forward, but grunted when the weight of the cat landed on his chest. Though, instead of killing him, the cat’s sandpaper tongue licked his face. He strained against the weight to snatch back the knife.

  “Don’t move or you’ll draw their attention,” a female voice like music to his ears whispered.

  With a movement like lightning, she scooped up the knife, and then sent it sailing into one of the Spider Kings. The blow knocked the King’s crown lopsided.

  The cat sprang for another spider, and ripped the beast apart. Landon rose.

  When he looked back to thank her, the words stuck in his throat. Green eyes chipped from emeralds stared up at him. The same eyes he saw last night. Her hair blacker than the night was braided, but wisps had worked free around her face. Even her skin glowed with the moonlight as if she bottled its light inside her.

  “Watch out!” She rolled to the side as a spiked mace smashed into the ground where she had just been.

  Landon moved into the shadows, away from her reluctantly. It was as though a seraph of his imagination had sprung to life. Then the Spider Kings shouted, but they merged with images of the boar-faced creatures.

  This was some type of sorcery.

  He dashed to his sword and kicked aside one of the yellowed creatures that squatted in his way. As he stood, his blade sliced through the boar’s face. The creature kept moving. He would not hide away, but fight until either these creatures were dead or he was.

  “Aim for the neck first,” the woman shouted to him.

  His sword thumped as he hit the creature’s shoulder. With a spin, he brought the blade up and the head rolled across the ground.

  “He’s got a knack for fighting,” another woman said. She was dressed in blue and her silver blades flew through the air.

  In the distance, a horn sounded.

  “Quickly! They call for others.” The blue woman danced aside as one of the creatures snatched at her leg.

  “Melwyn.” His emerald-eyed seraph sent an arrow into one of the creatures scrambling down the hill. “Carry him to safety where the others wait.”

  Before he could ask who Melwyn was, the cat ran into him. Instead of knocking him down, the animal grabbed him by the back of his shirt and swung him up on its back as though it a horse. In truth, the cat was nearly as tall as a horse. Landon leaned forward so his boots did not scrape the ground.

  Behind him, the women tore through the forest. Amazingly, the woman with emerald eyes kept up with him and the racing cat. After a while, the other woman faded behind into the darkness.

  Chapter Ten

  Mirhana heard the resonating noise of a horn and her hands clenched. It was barely first light. She let her pet race ahead with Landon. She hoped the great cat could get him as far away from the Troblins and their dream-weaving as possible.

  Mirhana could see Brock in the tall grass, moving forward with his sword in hand. Before she shouted a warning, her pet Melwyn, carrying Landon, smacked into his side. It snarled down into Brock’s face.

  His sword arm jammed underneath one of its massive paws. He struggled to budge the weight from his arm, but it enjoyed his squirming. Landon rolled off the beast.

  As though testing his next meal, the cat sniffed Brock before letting out a roar that rang through the woods.

  “Melwyn, leave him be.” Mirhana rushed up beside them.

  “Where did you get such a beast?” Brock grunted as the cat pounced off.

  “I was curious about that too,” Landon said.

  “He’s not a beast; his name is Melwyn.” Her hand rested on her hip. The cat normally did not like men, and would often engage any who approached her as a challenge. Once he bit a man who had clasped her elbow in greeting a little too long and she had to pay for the man’s medicine. Another man had offered to share his bed so she need not sleep outside, when Melwyn peed on his trousers. Yet, here he nuzzled Landon’s hand until the man rubbed his fur. “I rescued him from Gration poachers.”

  Brock’s eyebrows shot up, “The jungles? Where the Anda roam?”

  “The cannibals?” Landon asked, scratching Melwyn behind his ears as the cat purred. “Those Anda? I’ve heard they are not as bad as the Everlang cannibals.”

  “We’ve no time for this," Mirhana snapped. "There are more Troblins on their way.”

  “What are Troblins?” Landon asked. “Are they the spider creatures?”

  “No.” Mirhana sheathed her sword. “Troblins are dream-weavers. Whatever you fear, that’s what they make you see when you look in their eyes. They can vanish from your sight when trying to find them, but it is a trick. Sometimes the weave is so strong that even if one escapes, they still live in their nightmare years later. Luckily you don’t have that issue.” She looked at him; curious as to why this human avoided that fate.

  He caught her stare and she spun away.

  “Where’s Jeslyn?” Brock asked.

  “I don’t see her. She knew the risk when she offered her help, but we need to save her. We may need the others help.” She glanced around. “Where are they?”

  Brock pointed to the foliage atop the next hill.

  She turned back to say something to Brock and noticed he did not follow, but stared out across the hills. Mirhana squinted, and just made out a spot dancing down one of the hills. Numerous yellow dots chased after.

  Jeslyn.

  Mirhana could not turn her back on her. Not when she had helped them freely. Her conscious and honor would not allow her to leave.

  Before she took a step, Brock tore down the hill, as though not caring that any observed his Elvin speed.

  Jeslyn was yards from him. She had held back the Troblins so the others had time to escape. Not to mention she couldn’t run as fast, being human.

  “Celeste! Gillespie!” Mirhana shouted. “Brock and Jeslyn need help. Hurry!” If she had to, she would do what she thought Jeslyn would want and give her a quick death if they could not get her away from the Troblin. It’s what she would want someone to do for her if she was caught by these vile creatures.

  Landon raced past her toward Brock and Jeslyn.

  “No!” Mirhana caught up to Landon and placed her hand on his arm. A tingle soared through her body from the contact. “We just got you away from them. You’ll only complicate things.” Seeing his scowl as though he wasn’t used to obeying anyone, and wanted to help regardless, she softened her words. “Please, the fewer targets they have of ours, the better.”

  He grunted, but nodded.

  Shadowdancer galloped toward them. Mirhana whispered a prayer of thanks to the gods for Celeste and her swift horse as she let another arrow sail into a Troblin.

  Jeslyn’s silver blades stuck out of a dozen of the Troblin, yet still they chased her. She didn’t appear to notice Brock, for she faced the path ahead until she aimed another dagger.

  He called her name and then ran diagonally to her. For a moment, she darted backward. When she saw him, the light glittered off the jewels over her eyebrows.

  “Let me carry you!” he yelled.

  She glared at him as though he’d been hit in the head with a boulder. But when he reached her, she leapt into his arms, which were covered with the long sleeves of his tunic and as an added precaution, he wrapped his cloak around her.

  Brock raced across the countryside with Jeslyn. The Troblins howled as they saw he increased the distance between them. Mirhana shot arrows into the Troblin to cover their escape.

  “Let her ride with me!” Celeste shouted.

  “Just throw me.”

&n
bsp; Brock tossed Jeslyn into the air. Her body flew and then she landed on Shadowdancer just behind Celeste. Mirhana had no time to question her acrobatics.

  Already, Shadowdancer as if sensing urgency turned and left Brock and Mirhana behind.

  Mirhana smiled at him as they raced behind the horses. In the lead was Shadowdancer with Celeste and Jeslyn. Then Landon and Gillespie on separate horses, but Landon paced his horse alongside her as she ran. It was unnerving to sense him staring at her, but when she looked at him, he glanced away. Protecting Mirhana’s other side, the cat Melwyn loped next to her and Brock.

  “What happened to the other horse?” he asked.

  The screams of the dying horse as the Troblin landed upon its flesh answered him.

  “Try that again brother,” she huffed, “and I’ll break your kneecaps first.” Truth be told, pride filled her on his actions.

  Brock smiled, but then pain shot over his face and he went tumbling backwards, down the hill.

  He crashed into one of the Troblins. Instead of pausing, he clasped his hands on the creature’s head and hoisted himself up. The weight of this creature’s jaw snapped open, and his bones boiled. Others, watching their comrade melt under Brock’s fingertips, stopped.

  At last, the body slipped from his hands into a pool of sizzling flesh. Brock fled. Again, Mirhana sent arrows, which pierced into the pursuing Troblins. Their howls echoed as Brock caught up with her.

  “What did you do back there?” She ran beside him. “Have you magic too?”

  “Nay, it’s my curse, yet I don’t know why the creature was affected that way.”

  “We are safe now; they won’t be able to catch up with us.” From the corner of her eye, Mirhana noticed Landon kept glancing at her. It unnerved her. She was used to being alone hunting the undead like a shadow. Now this man pushed the limits of her internal barriers with his attention.

  Was he wondering what species she was, like all the others who saw her? Even when she looked away, she could feel his stare. She was about to stop and tell him to watch the trail instead of her, when blood trickled down his arm coating his silk tunic. Why hadn’t he said anything?

  “Let’s have Celeste heal your injuries. I’ll not have you dying on me from your wounds after all the trouble to get you out,” she snapped to keep him from thinking she was concerned about him.

  Ahead of them the others rode, so they increased their speed until they reached them. Behind Mirhana, she thought she heard the scream of a woman.

  Not a scream in pain, but one of rage. Not until the sun no longer showed the path, did they stop.

  Chapter Eleven

  Darkness spread across the land as night approached. All except Brock labored forward into the village. It would be hours until daylight, and they needed rest.

  In the distance, they could see farmhouses sprinkled across the land. In the heart of this village, there was only one tavern and no churches. Brock took the reins of Shadowdancer and one other horse and told the others to check for any rooms at the tavern, while Mirhana walked with him and took Gillespie’s mount. She was surprised the mares had lasted this long. However, they had lost two on this rescue mission.

  To cool the horses, they circled around the tavern. She was glad to see a stable behind the building.

  “May I ask about—?” Mirhana stared at the ground while they walked.

  “Anything.” Brock tugged on Shadowdancer’s reins as he turned toward the tavern entrance. “Except prophecies. I don’t want to spend hours debating them.”

  She laughed and silently cursed the gods that she didn’t have him in her life before. “What are our parents like?” She kicked aside a pebble. “I mean, Nivel told me stories about them and you. He was more interested in teaching me the Elvin ways and how to fight. And he never yielded in giving my foster mothers grief and cooking constantly for he ate more than an horde of Bergone.”

  Overhead a trio of bats flapped their wings.

  “Our father was a good man. He never raised his hand or voice in anger.” Brock swallowed. “He believed in me, even when I was banished.” Memories of that night spilled out of him.

  “Our kind forbade crossing the barrier into human lands. But the world of mankind always fascinated me. Often, I snuck out to visit them. I picked up the language that way, though I didn’t grasp it fully until I spent so much time with Celeste.”

  They maneuvered the horses around a deep mud puddle. The scent of jasmine and fresh grass lingered past the scents of the horses.

  “I guess I went out one time too many. It was autumn, and I stumbled into the Warloc’s blight. He had infected the trees with a disease that spread, and headed to Tamlon.”

  Mirhana nodded. She knew Tamlon was the closest tree city nearest to the border between Elvin and human lands.

  Even though she never lived in a tree, they held a special bond with her that she couldn’t quite explain. Whenever her fingers brushed a tree, no matter its species, a tingling shot through her being, almost as if the tree wanted to speak to her, but she didn’t know how to communicate. The older the tree, the more intense the feeling. She could only guess at the ramifications if she had been raised among the trees before this attack of the Warloc upon her people.

  “Then I heard a human yell for help. It was a man that had arms and legs like sticks. When I leaned down to help him, he yanked me down. His fangs bit into me,” Brock touched the side of his neck, “and then I knew he was a vampyre. I thought I was going to die. You wonder why victims of vampyres don’t escape? Why they stay locked where they are while the creature drains them of their blood?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “I’ve often wondered that.”

  “I was paralyzed. My muscles and joints locked in place. I couldn’t move. Believe me I tried. My bones felt as if they were replaced with steel rods and tempered closed.”

  “Yet, here you are? How did you escape?”

  Brock ran a hand through his black hair. “My curse. The curse of our family that the witches kept dormant for generations, activated. There was a tugging at my wound. Pain churned behind my eyes … like scorching fire, it seeped through my skull and down my spine. Then, his essence mingled with mine and filled me. I knew him, or at least his victims. Centuries of men, women, and children danced before my mind. It was as though I had been him. That I had killed these people. I even tasted each victim’s distinctive blood with its copper taint upon my tongue, and discerned the blood of someone who drank too much ale, the purity of a child, the bitter taste of someone with plague.

  “At the time, I didn’t know what was happening. Everywhere my skin tingled like pine needles pricked me. Then, my strength returned to me, and yet something more. A thickness settled over the beating of my heart. Just beneath my skin, an itch, a stinging. Then the vampyre cried out as blood ran from his eyes and ears. He died at my feet.”

  The horses had cooled, so they led them inside the stable. Brock paid the stableboy for the night. As the boy rested against a stall, they told him they would groom their horses.

  After they unsaddled the horses, Mirhana handed him a brush and took one for herself from the stableboy’s supplies. “Did you know then that you had become the Vaer?”

  They brushed the horses as they spoke.

  “No. I thought perhaps our kind had immunity since I wasn’t dead. Liana, my betrothed, I … I killed her because I didn’t know what had happened to me.”

  She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, then thought better of it, remembering that he was the Vaer and his touch deadly. She concentrated on a burr in the mare’s flank instead.

  “Because of the Warloc, I had to kill her twice. The second time was when his progeny raised her from the dead.” He quieted for a moment, brushing out Shadowdancer’s midnight mane.

  “I fell out of what little was left of mother’s favor when I became the embodiment of the curse. Although, I think part of her blamed me for your sacrifice to the witches, and what she thought w
as your death. When she learned you were alive, she threatened to harm me, if I returned without bringing you back.”

  “After the prophecies have been fulfilled, then I’ll hold you to your promise.” Mirhana took a shuddering breath. “I’ve raised many witches. I don’t know how to imagine a mother who has lived longer than I.”

  Instead of answering, Brock concentrated on checking Shadowdancer’s shoes. The horse swished his tail at him. They finished with the horses in silence, then made their way to the tavern.

  She followed Brock inside. In one of the corners, Jeslyn, Landon, and Gillespie guzzled mead as if they had been lost in the desert for days. Each slammed the flask down and laughed for another. Jeslyn sat on Landon’s lap with an arm around his neck. She leaned in when she saw them enter and whispered in his ear.

  When Mirhana slipped around from behind Brock, Landon’s laughter died and his face colored. She couldn’t keep her hands from clenching. What was the matter with her? Who cared if these humans shacked up together? She had sworn off relationships—especially with men.

  “The tavern maid cleans our chambers.” His voice cracked. “The girls’ room is ready now, but Jeslyn wasn’t tired.” He sounded as though he apologized.

  Mirhana did not care about him, or that they were drunk. She told herself that beyond protecting humans from the undead, she had no further interest in their affairs.

  “Where is Celeste?” Brock asked.

  “Asleep, when I left her.” Jeslyn’s voice had no hint of alcohol.

  Instead of answering, Mirhana spun on her heel and headed upstairs.

  With mumbling excuses, Gillespie and Landon left the table and headed after her. Gillespie ducked inside his and Landon’s room, but Landon grasped her arm.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She jerked her arm away. “Nothing.”

  “It didn’t seem like nothing. A moment ago, you looked like you took a bite of a bitter apple. I only wanted to thank you for your help earlier with the Troblin.”

  “The Warloc and his protégé are not sitting idly back guzzling ale. They have attacked each of us.”