Earth's Hope (7 page)

“Ye knew that afore he said aught,” Bran pointed out. “The Harpy told you.” He shrugged pragmatically. “Not only are they not particularly intelligent, they never were good with subterfuge.”

Rune bolted upright, displacing the raven who cawed her displeasure and flew to a nearby window ledge. “Lemurians,” the wolf snarled, and hackles rose along his spine.

Aislinn sent magic thrumming outward and felt like the worst kind of fool. While she’d been arguing like a thwarted ten-year-old, a Lemurian horde had gathered outside Fionn’s gates. “Can they fight?” She pointed at the dragons.

“I surely hope so,” Bran said.

“What are their names if I need their attention?”

“The black one is Royce and the copper one is Kra,” Bran said. “They’re males. Their mates are Vaughna, who’s green, and Berra, who’s red.”

Kra trumpeted, and Berra herded the young dragons through a side door into the manor house. Once they disappeared, she spun, clearly intent on taking up a post to defend the entrance.

Rune growled and skinned back his lips, showing his fangs. The muscles in his haunches bunched, but Aislinn knelt next to him. “Not yet,” she said. “We need a coordinated approach.” Broadcasting her mind voice, she called Corin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy. “Organize your people. Come to the front of the manor house. We’re under attack!”

“Exactly what I was trying to get across about Fionn,” Gwydion muttered. “A coordinated approach where we doona fragment our efforts.”

“I don’t need a sermon.” Aislinn speared him with her unwavering gaze. “You’re the damned warrior magician. Come on. Craft a battle plan. Now. They’re almost upon us.”

Humans poured out of the house and from the manor’s many outbuildings. Grim-faced and determined, they formed groups according to their gifts. Cronin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy marched to Aislinn.

“I sense Old Ones,” Timothy snarled. At Aislinn’s nod, he made a sour face. “Bastards.”

“Tell us where we can do the most good,” Eve said. Tabitha flanked her, lips etched into a growl. Magic bubbled around the humans, creating interlocking wards.

“At least there’re no dark gods.” Bran spat into the dirt. “Or they’ve done a stellar job of cloaking their presence.”

“What about Fionn’s wards around the manor?” Aislinn demanded. “Won’t they protect us?”

“If enough Lemurians gather forces, probably not.” Gwydion’s voice held a harsh edge. He grabbed his staff, carved with runes, and spread his arms. Power eddied around him, and his face became stern. A loud cracking noise pounded against her ears. Aislinn squared her shoulders and moved to face the cataclysm pressing against the magic she’d shielded herself with.

“Kra! Royce! Vaughna!” Gwydion cried. “Full power. Doona hold back. Berra. Make certain no one enters the house.”

“I’ll help with that,” Bella squawked. “I’m small enough to fit inside, and I can alert you if I need help.”

“While ye’re at it, make certain the brood stays in one place, probably the kitchen.” Gwydion reached a hand skyward as if to stroke the raven who perched ten feet above his head and called, “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Bella disappeared through an open window.

Gwydion narrowed his eyes and focused on Cronin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy. “Will you follow my direction?”

“Aye,” Daniel said. “I speak for Seekers.”

After exchanging glances, the other three nodded, but Aislinn sensed their reluctance. The Celts had hung them out to dry here in the U.K. No wonder they’d be suspicious and uncertain about taking orders from one.

Gwydion drove his staff into the dirt; it crackled with blue-white light. “Hunters and Healers attack from the left. Mages and Seekers, take the right flank. Kra, Royce, and Vaughna will strike from the air. Arawn, Bran, and I will harry them from the front. Fight well.”

“What about me?” Aislinn asked.

Gwydion glanced at her. “Stay near me, lass.”

She snorted. “Rune and I will go where we can do the most good.”

The master enchanter opened his mouth to argue, but closed it a moment before Aislinn felt thick, sticky magic roll over her warding. Everyone fanned out to discharge Gwydion’s orders.

Her eyes widened. Lemurians streamed toward them. There must’ve been fifty or sixty, and they weren’t bothering with illusion, probably to conserve their power. They looked like what they were: seven foot tall reptiles who walked upright on their hind legs. Their scaled hides were gray-green, and their whirling eyes reminded her of the dragons’. When she’d gotten sucked into working for them—because her only alternative was death—they’d looked like very tall humanoids with masses of thick, golden hair. They’d always swathed their bodies in robes and favored heavy silver and gold jewelry, but their eyes had never changed.

She loosed power and watched it bounce off the nearest Lemurian. Not going to work. Aislinn switched to mind speech. “Last time I fought these things, their warding was only in front. Rune and I will sneak around behind them.”

Power bubbled from Gwydion and Bran, and they funneled it into the thick of the Lemurians, but didn’t have any better luck than she’d had. The dragons shot fire at their enemy, but the Lemurians were just as impervious to flame as the dragons. For one wild moment, Aislinn wondered if they’d had some long-ago common ancestor.

“Lass!” Gwydion’s mind voice was terse. “Call Dewi back here. I’ve tried to reach both her and Arawn, but neither are answering. Mayhap your MacLochlainn bond will serve us better.”

“Once I’ve done that, cover me.”

“Agreed, but only if ye agree not to tell Fionn I allowed you to march into the lion’s den.”

Aislinn felt for the threads that bound her to the dragon and plucked them. “Get your ass back here now. We’re under attack.”

She hunkered next to Rune. “Remember how we took them in the corridors beneath Castle Trim?” One sharp nod told her he did. “We’re going around to the back of their lines. I’ll do my best to shield our presence with magic, but once we’ve killed the first one, they’ll be onto us.”

“I’m ready.”

Her throat thickened. Rune was so loyal it smote her. He’d follow her into certain death because not fighting by her side was incomprehensible to him. Aislinn gave him a quick hug, sprang upright, and wove magic into a shield to mask their power and render them invisible. The battle raged around her, and the air thickened with smoke, dragons’ fire, and the coppery, metallic stench of blood. The humans stood tall, fighting courageously. Even after everything, they hadn’t lost their pluck. Proud to be a part of her kind, she targeted a pair of Lemurians and sprinted to what she hoped would be a decent vantage point.

* * * *

Dewi didn’t bother making her landing elegant. So what if it rattled Arawn’s bones? She took them across the Irish Sea to a crumbling castle in Scotland and snarled, “Get off me.”

“As madam dragon wishes.” Power flashed and the god of the dead ended up standing in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to his mild words, his dark eyes glinted dangerously.

“Explain yourself.” Fire streamed from her mouth, and she didn’t take care to divert it. Arawn rolled his eyes and warded himself.

“I could have done so back in Inishowen,” Arawn said. “This side trip was entirely unnecessary.”

“Your opinion. Not mine.” More fire; a small wooden building went up like a torch. “I’m waiting.”

“Ye canna keep secrets,” Arawn said. “’Tis that simple. Plus, ye were in a fine muddle once Nidhogg disappeared and ye lost your clutch. Half mad as I recall. It wasna the time to tell you Odin targeted your dragons to even the score because Nidhogg was gone.”

“I would have confronted that slimy poor-excuse-for-a-god and burned him to a cinder. That ridiculous Valhalla of his too.”

Arawn nodded. “I rest my case. ’Twas precisely why we decided to remain silent.”

“We?” Dewi’s temper escalated another notch.

“Aye. Bran, Gwydion, and myself.”

“Of course,” she growled. “The dynamic threesome. Why didn’t you include Fionn?”

“He was closer to you than the rest of us after Nidhogg was taken. We worried he’d soften and tell you.” Arawn hesitated. “Ye’ve forgotten how distraught ye were.”

Oh no, I haven’t. More fire spewed from her mouth as she regarded the god of the dead.

Arawn uncrossed his arms and let them swing free. “Look at the bright side—” he began.

“What bright side?” Fire splashed off Arawn’s ward, leaving dark, singed places.

“Ye have four living dragons who would likely have been maimed or dead if I hadna intervened.”

Anger burned so hot, she almost couldn’t contain it. “You think I was incapable of protecting them?” she demanded.

“Of course not. If ye’d set your mind to it. Ye’ve already said ye’d have gone to Asgard and called Odin out. Between him and his Valkyries and Vikings, ye’d scarcely have emerged unscathed.” Arawn shook his head. “Even if ye lived through that confrontation, Odin would have targeted you too. He left you out of his original plans out of deference for you being one of the Celtic gods.”

“And you know this how?”

“The information network used to be much more accurate before men filled the air with electromagnetic radiation. Odin figured if he left you and the geriatric dragons near you alone, he might escape notice killing the other four. Actually,” Arawn furled his brows, “ye should thank me.”

“Because you hid the presence of my subjects from me and allowed me to go half-crazy with believing myself the last of my kind?”

“Nay, because I ferreted out Odin’s plot in time to subvert it.”

Dewi stomped around what was left of the castle’s side yard. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Och aye. And verra soon. Once Nidhogg was safely returned to us, I figured he could take on Odin, plus we needed Kra and the others for the battles to come. The more dragons, the better our chances of prevailing. ’Twas why the miracle Nidhogg crafted by dousing your eggs with dragon’s fire and resurrecting half the clutch was so welcome.”

“Mmph.” Smoke streamed from her nostrils, but Dewi’s temper, always quick to kindle, was settling.

“I am not the enemy, Dewi. Ye waste valuable energy. We must locate Fionn. I wasna back long, but long enough for the others to tell me he’d been snatched by Harpies.”

“Get your ass back here now. We’re under attack,” reverberated in Dewi’s head.

Aislinn.

A chilling clearness wiped the last of Dewi’s fury aside. “Get on my back.”

“Where are we going now?” Arawn inquired caustically.

“Oh, shut up. I’ve forgiven you.”

“Ye could have fooled me.”

“Aislinn just told me they’re under attack. We’re teleporting back there.”

“Why dinna ye say so?” Arawn materialized between her shoulder blades. “Doona put us down right in the courtyard—”

“I don’t need your instructions.” Dewi summoned teleport magic. “Just make certain nothing happens to my MacLochlainn once we return. Or any of my children.”

Chapter Six

Nidhogg wished he had more time to select his words, but the golden walls of Asgard rose around him while his mind still seethed. He took advantage of the few extra moments before he landed to clear the fury scouring his nerves. Rationality was the key to dealing with Odin. If Nidhogg let his emotions loose and allowed the fire in his belly to blaze from his mouth, he’d have been better served to stay with Dewi and the other dragons. He spread his wings and settled onto the cobblestoned courtyard. Valhalla, the warriors’ hall, lay off to one side. Lesser buildings peppered the well-kept grounds. Nothing had changed in the hundreds of years since he’d stormed out of the Norse stronghold.

Startled Vikings stared at him, and one ran into Valhalla as if Hellhounds chased him. The vast structure’s lower levels held the dead, but contrary to popular mythology, Odin, Thor, Freya, and other living Norse gods and Vikings utilized the castle’s upper floors. Nidhogg saw the sense in it. Why waste all that golden glory on the dead? He settled his wings across his back, not expecting much of a wait.

Odin emerged from the castle as if he’d been shot from a cannon and pelted down stone stairs. As always, he wore battle armor with twin brass drinking horns slung across his burly chest. Blond braids fell down his back and he smiled through his thick, red-blond beard. He extended both hands when he got close to Nidhogg, and exclaimed, “You’re back! How did you escape? Damn my eyes, but it’s glad I am to see you again.”

“Unfortunately, the feeling isn’t mutual.”

The smile on Odin’s broad face faded, and he narrowed his blue eyes. “After all this time, you still haven’t forgiven me?”

“I might have,” Nidhogg measured his words, “except you piled more sins atop your original one.”

“I’ve rethought my position about Dewi—” Odin began.

Nidhogg held up a foreleg. “It scarcely matters. I didn’t need your approval when I mated with her, and I don’t need it now. You knew the dark gods took me, but you didn’t lift a finger to try to help.”

“Och, lad. I was still angry about Dewi.”

“What about the four dragons you planned to kill?”

Odin’s gaze skittered sideways. “Plans aren’t deeds. How did you find out about that? It’s very old news.”

“Arawn discovered it and took steps to protect them.”

“All right.” Odin took a step back, drank from one of his horns, and crossed arms thick with muscle over his chest. “You sought me out for a reason. What is it?”

“Two reasons, actually. Dewi and I have younglings. One will become the next Norse dragon, but for that to happen, I need your word you will leave Dewi and me in peace. Earth is under siege. Nothing is certain.”

“What do you mean under siege?” Odin lowered his blond brows into a thick line that cut across his forehead.

Nidhogg clanked his jaws together. “I don’t have time to explain, but I’m guessing you haven’t left here in ages.”

“You’d be right. The world’s become a damned depressing place. No one believes in the gods anymore.”

“The ones who stopped paying homage to you are mostly dead.” Nidhogg’s voice could have etched glass. “So you needn’t worry about them any further.”