Master of Swords (17 page)

“Hey, it's okay,” Gawain said. “You were dreaming.”

“That wasn't a dream.” Wide awake, she shot off the couch and called her armor. “Something's wrong with Diera.”

“What?” Alarm widened his eyes.

“I don't know, but we need to get to her villa. Now!” Even as she cast the gate, Kel was conjuring Gawain's armor.

“It's probably that fuck Edge and another one of his traps.” The knight looked over his shoulder at Kel. “Call Arthur and the other knights. We're going to need them.”

“Let's hope I don't get blocked this time,” the dragon growled.

As he sent the call, Gawain plunged through the gate. Lark dove after him, and they burst into Diera's bedroom.

Edge stood over a still female body. At first glance Lark thought Diera was naked from the waist down, wearing only a red shirt.

Then she realized the “shirt” gleamed wetly.

Blood.

Edge looked around at them. “When I was a boy, I wanted her heart.” He opened his hand to display something bright red. “Now I've got it.”

“You
fuck
!” Gawain leaped for the vampire, who threw his dripping burden aside and drew his sword.

As the two men engaged in a fury of blows, Lark stood frozen, staring down at her friend's butchered body.

This couldn't be happening.
Not Diera.

Then Edge blasted Gawain so hard, the knight staggered even behind Kel's shields. Jolted out of her momentary paralysis, Lark shot a spell of her own at the sorcerer.

He ducked and whizzed a fireball at her. Lark blocked it, taking a step back. One foot slipped in something wet. Automatically she glanced down. Blood.

Beside her foot was a naked body, broad-shouldered and headless. Cold spilling across her skin, she realized who it must be.

Antonio.

Her gorge rose as she put two and two together. He and Diera weren't naked because their clothes had vanished when they died. They hadn't been wearing any.
Edge had killed them while they were making love.

Rage came at last, hot and welcome, bracing her with its feral strength. Teeth bared, she looked around for the sorcerer. Spotting him locked in combat with Gawain, she lurched toward him, wanting only to kill the man who'd murdered her dearest friend.

“I'm going to gut you, you sick son of a bitch!” Gawain snarled, circling the killer. “And I'm going to take my time!”

Edge laughed, the sound chilling. “You're the one who's going to do the dying. I've got more than enough power now to do the job.” He leaped back, avoiding Gawain's sword-thrust, then darted forward like a snake, striking for the knight's heart. Gawain twisted away, all agile power.

Eyes burning, hands shaking with her rage, Lark hesitated, looking for an opening. She was no match for Edge with a sword, but she could force him to split his attention between her and Gawain.

Spotting her moment, she swung up her sword and charged, hacking at the sorcerer's chest. He saw her coming and leaped back before she could cut him in two. The blade jolted in her hands as he parried, steel ringing on steel. Lark spun away and fired a blast at his face. He ducked, then lobbed his own fireball in return. Watching the seething mass of energy fly toward her chest, Lark automatically shielded.

The death spell hit her barrier, which blazed blue white, then dimmed alarmingly as the energy started eating right through it. Hastily, Lark poured power into the shield and ducked aside, her heart pounding with fear. Edge's fireball finally dissipated with a sullen pop and one final rolling reek of brimstone. Shaken, she realized that if it weren't for her own increase in power, the attack would have killed her.

Edge met her eyes and smirked, conjuring another fireball with his free hand as he spun his sword with a lazy rotation of the opposite wrist.

He didn't get a chance to use either. Gawain roared in fury and attacked, swinging Kel like a scythe. Edge cursed and parried, but Gawain kept coming. The blades rang together in a demonic chorus as he drove the sorcerer from the bedroom and out into the hallway beyond.

Lark didn't hesitate as she followed. One way or another, they couldn't let Edge get away. Moving up beside her lover, she joined the attack, tossing fireballs while he pounded at Edge's guard. She gave each one of them everything she had. Within seconds, her face streamed with sweat from the magical effort, and her head ached. She ignored the pain, intent only on revenge.

Together, Lark and Gawain hounded the sorcerer down the corridor, alternating blasts and blade attacks. Edge retreated, hurling spell after spell at them. The fireballs hit their shields in a relentless pounding until Lark's skull seemed to ring with each impact.

Magic abruptly rose at her back, the sensation strengthening her in her exhaustion. Thank God—somebody had just gated in. A familiar male voice bellowed in rage. “Edge, you bastard, what have you done?”

Lark dared a glance over her shoulder and saw Guinevere and Arthur striding toward them, both in full armor. Excalibur flashed as the Magus broke into a run, lifting the great blade high. Lark grinned savagely as she and Gawain ducked aside, giving him room for his attack.

No matter how much power Edge had stolen, he was finished now. The killer didn't have a prayer against all four of them.

He knew it, too. His eyes widened as he leaped back, narrowly avoiding Excalibur's savage descent.

Arthur snarled something in Latin—he really was pissed—and spun the great blade around in a glittering figure eight. “You're dead, boy!”

Edge grinned at them, baring gritted teeth. “Not yet, old man!” A flick of his wrist summoned a dimensional gate as he parried Arthur's ringing attacks.

Lark shouted a warning, but the vampire turned and leaped through before Arthur could stop him.

Guinevere promptly cast what Lark recognized was a mirroring gate that would track him to his destination. Only a fool would have used the gate Edge had cast, since he could have collapsed it when his pursuers were halfway through.

“Leave a trail for the others,” Arthur said. “We've got him this time.” He turned and jumped through, Gawain, Kel, Lark, and his wife at his heels.

Lark threw a shield over all of them the instant they landed on the other side of the gate. Just in time—a blast lit up the barrier with fire.

The magical buzz of another opening gateway rolled over Lark's skin. She threw up a mirrored gate of her own to track it and was the first one through.

Mistake.

Steel flashed as her vision filled with Edge's snarling face. Lark barely got up her sword in time to parry. Her arm went numb to the shoulder as Edge hit her with his full vampire strength. She fell back, going down on one knee as Edge loomed over her.

A blade appeared before her face, deflecting the sorcerer's attack. Gawain thrust him away, and Kel kept him going with a spell blast. Lark struggled to her feet as the two men fought. Arthur charged in to join the battle, Guinevere striding after him.

Around them, tall city buildings suggested an urban neighborhood, possibly in New York. As the men hacked at each other, Lark searched for her shot. Guinevere turned toward her. “Let's combine our power. We need to…”

Before she could get the rest of the sentence out of her mouth, Edge whirled, conjured yet another doorway, and jumped.

“Dammit!” Lark growled.

Kel cast the gate this time. The two women leaped after Gawain and Arthur, shielding all four of them when they hit the other side. Another blast lit their joint barrier and splashed helplessly.

“Might as well quit running,” Gawain told Edge, who backed away as the two knights stalked him. “There's nowhere you can go that we won't track you. You'll just use up all your power, and we'll butcher you like a suckling pig.”

Edge's eyes narrowed. “There's one more place.”

He spun aside, leaping through yet another gate that popped into being. Lark cast her own to follow…

It felt like she'd slammed into a brick wall. She yelped and staggered. Guinevere tried next, only to drop her arms and curse.

“What the hell's going on?” Arthur demanded in frustration.

“He's jumped behind a really powerful set of wards,” Guinevere told him absently, her gaze fierce with concentration as she again fought to punch through. “It's somewhere on Mageverse Earth, but I can't tell…”

“The Sidhe kingdom?”

“No, I'd have recognized that magic. This is something else. It feels almost like…”

“Dragon,” Kel said flatly.

“But why in the hell would one of the Dragonkind work with Edge, of all people?” Galahad demanded. Caroline stood by his side, white-faced. The two must have just gated in. Lark had been so focused on Edge, she hadn't even noticed.

What's more, Morgana was there, too, along with Bors, Lancelot, and his new wife Grace. Even as she watched, Tristan and Kay appeared with Helen and another Magus she didn't recognize.

“Must be the same bastard that rescued him the last time,” Gawain growled. “But who?”

“I have no idea,” Morgana said grimly. “But I do know someone we can ask.”

 

As the senior
Magekind discussed who best to bring in on the problem of the mystery dragon, Lark stood numbly listening. With the battle over, her rage had been overcome by a nagging sense of unreality.

A slender arm slipped around her shoulders, jolting her out of her fog. She looked around to see Caroline watching her with dark, sympathetic eyes.

“He killed them while they were making love.” Lark blinked hard, feeling helpless. “It didn't look as if Diera even got off a shot.”

Caroline's arm tightened. “It must have been really quick then. She wouldn't have suffered.”

“He cut out her heart, Caroline!”

“I know, sweetie.” Her face, normally alight with mischief, now looked grim and blasted with grief. “I saw the bodies. Diera and Antonio…Oh, God. I can't believe it.”

Lark rested her temple against Caroline's as she stood in the circle of her friend's arms. “She was so damned wise. She understood everything I didn't.” Blinking hard, Lark bit her lip, looking away from the group who still stood in low-voiced conversation. “I'm not going to cry, dammit.”

“Lark,” Caroline said, lowering her head and her voice, “I think they'd understand. She was their friend, too.”

“We all lost too much today.”

Lark turned to see Arthur walking toward her. He dropped a hand on her shoulder. “There's no shame in grieving for her, Lark. We all loved her.” His smile was faint and sad. “She made it easy.”

“Yeah,” Lark said softly. “She did.” Rage flared in her heart, cold and bitter. “And that bastard took it all away.”

“He'll pay for it,” Tristan told her. His face was white inside his lifted visor. “He's going to pay dearly.”

The tail caught
Richard in the side and knocked him flying. He smashed into the rock wall so hard he saw stars, then saw them again when he hit the floor.

Despite the pain of what he suspected were broken ribs, he rolled to his feet and backed away from the dragon that stalked him in the green darkness.

“You nasty little ape,” it snarled. “You
dare
come here when I have not summoned you! And you
dare
use the spell I taught you to do it? I'll rip you in two and eat the pieces!”

“They were gating after me! It was the only way I could lose them!” He'd known he was taking a risk when he'd gone through the Dragonkind's wards with the same spell the dragon had taught him to use on Avalon. But he hadn't realized the creature would be so enraged.

“And you think that matters to me? When I honored you with knowledge and a piece of my own magic, it was not an invitation to take advantage of my good nature!”

What good nature?
Somehow Richard bit the words back. He had to talk fast. “Don't you want to be free of the Magekind?”

“Do you think me such a fool that I'd believe protecting a worm like you would have any effect on them at all? You can't even fight off a handful of apes!” The dragon reared, fanged mouth gaping, obviously about to swallow Edge whole. “You didn't even manage to steal that one female's magic!
You're weak!
”

“She died before I could take it!”

“Excuses!” The dragon gathered itself to lunge.

“No, listen to me!” Richard scuttled back as the words tumbled out in a desperate rush. “Geirolf created a spell to destroy the Magekind. I know what it was. I can replicate it! Think of it—the stench of the apes gone from this Earth….” He braced, ready to leap aside if the beast didn't listen.

“If you had such a spell, you'd have used it by now.” But the dragon didn't lunge for him.

“I didn't have the power. But you…”

The dragon rocked back. “Me? Use some perverted magic from the Dark Ones against the Magekind? My people would have me executed!” But despite the denial, Richard thought he saw a flicker of interest in those alien eyes.

He licked his dry lips. “They don't have to know.”

The dragon made a sharp, grating sound, its version of a laugh. “Oh, they'll know, ape.” Calculation flickered in the creature's eyes, and that massive tail snapped, spines grating on the stone floor. “But you, now…you could work it.”

Richard swallowed and took a gamble. “If you lent me more power…”

“I told you, no! Pah, I waste my time with you, you stupid, smelly ape.” The dragon peeled its lips back from its teeth and coiled to lunge.

“There is a way I could get enough power,” Richard continued hurriedly, backing away. “If you can help me with the spell.” Maybe. He thought. He prayed…

The dragon hesitated, then growled in disgust. “You lie. Again. You do nothing but lie.”

“No, look.” Richard opened a quick dimensional gate back to his sanctuary. A spell drew the black grail from its hiding place and brought it floating toward him.

“Feh.” The dragon's head came up, lip curling in revulsion. “That thing stinks worse than you do, ape.”

Richard cradled it protectively. “It's the last of Geirolf 's black grails. He used this to create us.”
Time to take a gamble.
“Arthur and his knights are searching for this, because they've got a spell that would destroy the grail—and with it, all of us.”

The dragon cocked its head, cruel interest in its eyes. “Including you?”

“Including me. When Geirolf died, one of his lieutenants sent his life force, his magic, into each of us.” He looked down at the cup. “If I could figure out a way to survive the grail's destruction and gather that energy, I'd be able to call on vast forces.” Richard met the dragon's gaze, silently demanding belief. “Vast enough to perform Geirolf 's sacrificial spell and wipe out the Magekind, just as he intended.”

“And with the Magekind gone, Kel will die.” The dragon's eyes narrowed. “Did you say
sacrificial
? What sacrifice do you intend?”

Yes! I've got you now, you scaly bastard.
With difficulty, he hid his triumph. “Originally, Geirolf intended to sacrifice a Magekind couple, but those he intended to kill trapped and slew him instead. If he'd only listened to me, he'd have made another sacrifice and survived.”

“You? Why would he listen to
you
, worm?”

“How do you think he knew about the Magekind to begin with? Merlin had him locked in a magic cage for sixteen hundred years. When he finally freed himself, he didn't know a damn thing.”

“But you did.” The dragon curled a lip. “You're lying again, egg-sucker.”

“No. I'm not. I suggested the ultimate sacrifice, the one that would liberate all the power he wanted. But Geirolf thought that target would be too risky.”

The great tail lashed like a hungry cat's. “And who was that?”

“Who is the heart and soul of the Magekind, even in the minds of mortals who don't even believe in him?” Richard grinned, watching that flash of interest intensify. “Whose abduction would leave the Magekind in a panic?” He paused a moment, letting the thought penetrate, letting the dragon draw its own conclusions. “Arthur, the Once and Future King.” He grinned savagely. “Or should I say—the Once and Never King.”

 

Lark and Gawain
returned home barely half an hour before the sun would force him into the Daysleep. He felt weary to the soul in that particular way he associated with a serious defeat.

And Lark…

She looked grief-dazed, more like a woman who'd lost a mother than a good friend. Yet despite her pain, she'd returned to Diera's home and used her magic to ready the lovers' bodies for their funeral the next night. Gawain had gone with her to lend emotional support and Kel's help.

It was as she wrapped the bodies in her magic that Lark sensed Diera's gruesome injuries were all postmortem. She'd been dead before Edge even touched her.

Gawain had instantly realized what happened; he'd seen it before. “Diera and Antonio must have Truebonded.”

“And Antonio's death killed her.” Lark had stared at him, puzzled. “But she didn't mention they'd Truebonded when I saw her at the meeting. In fact, she was still denying she loved him.”

Gawain shrugged. “They probably hadn't done the ritual yet. It was likely impulse.” Brooding, he shrugged. “If not for the Truebond, Diera might have been able to fight Edge off.”

“Or not. She loved Antonio. The shock of seeing him dead like that…” Lark shook her head. “I'm glad they did it. At least they were together.”

Thinking about it now as he and Lark trudged up the stairs to the bedroom, Gawain found himself sharing her gratitude. Though Diera had never believed it, he'd loved her. Not enough to give her the Truebond link she wanted, but he had loved her.

When she'd found Antonio, he'd been happy for her, had hoped they could finally be friends again.

Edge had destroyed it all like a heedless toddler in a temper fit.

And the little bastard could not have hurt his father more if he'd cut out Bors's heart instead. Gawain had seen men look less devastated on the way to the executioner's block.

“Think Morgana and Gwen will have any luck?” Lark asked him as they walked into his bedroom.

Since the men had no choice except to sleep, Morgana had announced her intention to talk to Soren that morning. Guinevere intended to request an audience with the Sidhe king, Llyr Galatyn. Galatyn was the Heir to Heroes, with a special magical connection to Cachamwri, the dragon god. Perhaps he'd be able to find out something if Soren couldn't help.

“It's hard to tell. Neither the Dragonkind nor their god is known for being cooperative.”

“Good point.” Lark grimaced and banished her armor with a flick of the fingers.

Gawain blinked. She'd replaced it with a white cotton sleep shirt that seemed to swallow her slim body. All she needed was a slogan across the front: “Keep off the Maja.”

Then again, he was too exhausted to even think of making love himself. There'd been one too many battles tonight.

With a sigh, Gawain shrugged off his scabbard, barely noticing as Kel replaced his armor with loose cotton pants. Instead of hanging the scabbard on the bedpost, he put it down on the floor. Considering Edge's new talent for gating past Avalon's wards, he wanted the sword in easy reach.

As Lark gestured the lights off, he got in next to her and tugged her gently against him, wrapping her in his arms.

With a muffled cry of grief, she turned and burrowed against him, her body shuddering as she wept.

“I loved her, too.” He stroked Lark's hair and kissed her forehead. “It wasn't enough for her, but I did. She was warm and funny, and she never backed down.”

“They were in love,” Lark said against his neck. “She was actually happy. And then that bastard took it all away.”

“I'm going to kill him.”

Her arms tightened around his waist. “I know.”

 

Gawain woke before
Lark did, something which told him just how exhausted she must be. The Desire was awake and prowling, of course—it always was after a battle—but he had no intention of indulging it. Not after what she'd gone through last night.

He'd just have to go hungry.

Instead, he rolled over and propped his head on his forearm, the better to watch her as she slept. Now that the sun had set, the bedroom's magical shutters had opened, admitting a spill of moonlight to caress her cheek.

Brooding, he studied her elegant fragility. She looked pale, her closed lashes long and dark against her cheeks.

Was he going to fail her the way he had Diera?

OK, enough of that
, Kel said in their mental link.
Pick me up. I want to talk to you.

He supposed he needed to touch base with Arthur, Morgana, and Guinevere, find out if they'd made any progress during the day on tracking down Edge…

Hey, you!

…though if he hadn't let the little fucker get the better of him, none of this would be necessary, and Diera would still be alive.

All right, dammit, I'm coming to you
.

Gawain felt the covers tug across his hip as if something were pulling on them. With a sigh, he reached down to pick the sword up. Teeth snapped at his hand. He snatched back. “Hey! You said you wanted me to pick you up!”

“By Cachamwri, I'm going to do it myself now.” The dragon sniffed. “I've decided I need the exercise.” With his ferocious pride, Kel often insisted on forcing his tiny, awkward metal body to do his bidding.

Gawain lay back and waited, alert for any sign the dragon might lose his grip on the sheets and fall. It wouldn't hurt him, but it would piss him off even more. Neither of them needed the frustration.

A moment later, the dragon's tiny head appeared over the side of the bed. His neck snaked out, and he bit down fiercely on a fold of sheet as he used claws and wings to drag himself the rest of the way onto the bed. Behind him, the sword blade dangled like some awkward tail. Gawain scooped the length of steel up and arranged it into its proper position. As soon as it was straight, the blade solidified. Kel sighed in relief.

One of these days, I'm going to eat the egg-sucker who did this to me.
Cannibalism was the most vile, insulting threat one dragon could make against another, implying as it did that the other was prey.

Kel meant it.

I'll slice him up for you,
Gawain thought with a black grin.
We'll have dragon steaks.

Jeweled eyes gleamed.
Even better, dice him into dragon stir-fry and cook him in my mother's memory.

Dragon burgers
.

There you go. We'll invite the Majae and have a little cookout.
Kel's jaws gaped in a vicious grin.
Edge can provide the appetizer.

Gawain curled his lip.
There's not going to be enough left of the bastard when I get done with him.

They lay silent for a long moment, each pondering his own bloodthirsty revenge. But after a moment, Gawain's attention returned to Lark's delicate little face.

The dragon watched him.
She may be young, but she fits your soul as none of the others ever did.

Gawain blinked.
Even Diera?

Especially Diera. She was a lovely woman, but the two of you weren't really
in
love. And deep down, you knew it, which was why you never wanted a Truebond with her.

I only wish we'd been in time to save her. Five minutes sooner…

The dragon gave him a sharp look.
You know better than that. You've lived long enough to know that some things can't be done, no matter how powerful you are. And in this case, you literally could not have gotten there any faster than you did.

I know that, and yet……Blaming yourself gives you the comfortable illusion of being in control.

Gawain blinked at his friend.
You know me entirely too well, don't you?

I should, after all these centuries. Now, what are you going to do about Lark?

He had no idea.

 

Lark strode down the marble corridor of Diera's villa, her sword in her hand. She was alone this time. Alone in the chilly, ringing silence.

She stopped, horror and dread creeping over her. The hair on the back of her neck rose as she heard a faint liquid sound. A suckling.

Her hand began to sweat around the hilt of her sword. Her instincts shrieked at her to run, but she couldn't. Diera and Antonio needed her.