Dragan Page 5

  Bright green smoke fills the air around us, and it’s nearly impossible to see. Through the smoke, I watch Baron, who moves unbelievably quickly. He removes the burlap sack from his head, then grips me around the waist before leaping out from the bed of the truck. We hit the ground hard and I land on my side, my cheek bouncing against the dirt road.

  Pain instantly radiates through my entire body and I can’t move, can barely even breathe. Baron, on the other hand, is on his feet in an instant. He appears completely unfazed from our fall, the smoke, everything, while I feel like the wind’s been knocked clear out of me. I struggle to inhale, my lungs burning with every effort. I can hear coughing coming from inside the truck, and then Anona’s blood-curdling screech.

  “Get them!”

  Dragan is still in there, I realize.

  “Dragan!” I try to yell but my voice is nonexistent. I struggle to sit up, the task made difficult by the pain in my side and my bound hands. Baron is back in the truck in a split second, but in the time it takes him to return with the large body of Thoradin, we have company.

  The driver of the truck, an especially mean-looking dwarf, is there to meet Baron when he attempts to return. The dwarf holds an open vial with something crimson bubbling out of it. He throws the tincture at Baron, who immediately claws at his eyes. A few seconds later, his body goes limp and he collapses on the ground, seemingly unconscious. I roll over and immediately regret it. The pain from my side radiates through my entire body, making it impossible to move. Not only that, but my hands and ankles are still bound tight.

  Anona and Dravon stumble, spluttering and gasping, out of the truck and land on the ground where they claw at the leaves and forest debris, still trying to get away from the suffocating smoke. I don’t know where the rest of Anona’s men are, but I imagine they can’t be far.

  I’m not sure if it’s owing to the truck stopping short, but Dragan’s immense form suddenly drops from his slumped position against the wooden wall of the truck and lands on the ground. He doesn’t wake up, doesn’t even make a sound.

  Thoradin, Dragan, and Baron all remain immobile on the dirt road and there’s a strange reddish glow surrounding Baron. I’m worried for him because whatever the dwarf threw at him doesn’t appear to be something he is immune to. I can only hope it isn’t killing him.

  But how do you kill a vampire? I don’t have an answer for myself.

  Anona, haggard, rises to her feet, glaring at me all the while.

  I can’t move, can barely breathe. I’m huddled in a cocoon of agony and I feel winded, clouded, and, yet, flooded with adrenaline. Adrenaline that has nowhere to go.

  In the background, the truck splutters and pops as it battles the massive green flames of the fire that consumes it. Pretty soon, it’s reduced to nothing but a skeletal frame and fluids leaking all over the road.

  The dwarf starts yelling about the condition of his vehicle and Anona turns, pulling a pistol from her waist, and shoots him right between the eyes. He’s dead before he even hits the ground.

  My breath catches as panic starts to upset my stomach.

  Just then, the sky grows dark as clouds suddenly collect overhead. They move so quickly, as though time has sped up. A gentle spattering of rain begins to drop.

  “What the?” Dravon says, glancing up as he holds his hand out and the drops splash against it. “Wasn’t it just sunny a minute ago?”

  “Never mind that!” Anona reams him. “Collect the men and tie their hands and feet together with rope!”

  Dravon nods but I don’t watch him for long. Instead, my attention is riveted to the sky, where the drops are now falling in earnest and the clouds are growing darker by the second. Thunder tears through the quiet as lightning interrupts the darkness of the sky.

  “It’s an omen!” Dravon calls out from where he ties Thoradin’s hands together. Two of his accomplices work on restraining Dragan and the third is tying up Baron.

  “Stop with that bullshit!” Anona screams at Dravon as she approaches me. She grabs me by the bindings around my wrists and yanks me up. I scream as the pain from my side ricochets through me.

  “What the hell are you whining about?” she spits at me.

  “I think my ribs are broken,” I answer, but I can barely speak. Tears start rolling down my face, blending with the freezing cold rain that pours down on us. I shiver and glance at my white dress and cloak, finding it completely see-through and stuck to my skin. I still can’t catch my breath.

  “If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve come to the wrong person,” she spits, then looks up at the sky as the drops turn to hail. They pelt us furiously and I have to drop my face to keep the chunks of ice from slamming into my eyes.

  Just as suddenly as the hail started, it stops. Seconds later, a thick fog rolls in and dances around me until I can’t see anything below my waist.

  “There’s somethin’ funny goin’ on,” yells Dravon.

  Anona doesn’t answer him but walks up to Baron and, grabbing him by the rope that binds his wrists, drags him off the road and into the forest. I don’t know why, and I start to worry for him. I can only hope she doesn’t try to kill him. Due to the fact that she doesn’t know who he is, or was, Baron is expendable to her…

  I can’t remain upright, owing to the pain. I drop down to my knees and roll onto my uninjured side. As I watch, the fog obscures Baron completely and continues building, until it reaches Anona’s chest. Thunder and lightning rip through the dark and cloudy sky.

  I drop my head back to the ground, trying to ignore the feel of the mud as it coats the side of my face and hair. As I lay there, looking out across an open field of harvested wheat, I realize there’s no fog on this side of the road. I’m not sure how that’s possible, but I don’t ponder it for long because I think I see something in the field. It’s a black speck on the horizon. At first, I figure it must be a tree, but as I focus on it, it seems to be moving.

  The black speck grows larger and, after another few seconds, I realize it’s a person. And whoever it is, he’s coming closer—and he’s moving incredibly fast. I blink and he’s suddenly in front of me. He stands there, staring down at me with a blank expression. I don’t recognize him but somewhere, deep inside me, I know his face.

  He’s tall and well-built with a long, blond beard and even longer hair that looks like spun gold. His large and round eyes seem to reflect every color of the rainbow. But how can that be? I wonder if I’m simply imagining him.

  He crouches down on his haunches and faces me with a smile. He’s handsome but as rugged as the forest behind me. And he’s completely naked—something that should strike me as odd, but somehow doesn’t.

  He reaches out and shifts my cloak over my shoulder. Then he places his palm flat against my injured ribs and closes his eyes. His hand feels so incredibly warm that I sink into the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel that warmth radiate through my body and ward off the cold of the elements.

  ###

  Silvanus

  I realize there is little I can do here.

  My magic is the type that must exist within the natural order of things. I cannot disrupt the natural flow without causing too large a gap in that delicate balance.

  I drop to my knees beside the female, reaching out to touch her. She watches me with eyes that recognize me but do not know how or why.

  She is not afraid, merely curious. And she is wounded.

  Silvanus, Morrigan calls to me from within the female’s mind. She is in danger.

  There is little I can do, I respond.

  There is everything you can do, Morrigan replies angrily. You can easily free them all!

  If I abscond with the female and her companions, it will cause too many questions that would affect the natural progression of what is still to come.

  Questions are preferable to their deaths!

  We cannot interfere more than we must. You know this, I reply.

  I can feel Morrigan’s anger consuming he
r. You had no issues interfering when you penetrated her!

  Immediately, I recall the feel of the female’s canal as I thrusted inside her. It is a feeling I wish to repeat but, lo, this is not the time.

  I healed the female, as was my responsibility. And there was little consequence to my actions, other than the female finding herself outside the wards of her camp. Here, there would be far more serious repercussions.

  The female watches me with eyes that admit she does not understand Morrigan’s and my conversation, nor the nature of our association.

  Can you heal this pain? she asks, her voice weak, even inside her own head.

  I smile down at her. Yes, I respond.

  Reaching out, I shift her cloak over her shoulder. I pull the fabric covering her breasts down to her navel before placing the palm of my hand above her wounded bones. Then I close my eyes and channel my power through my arm and into my hand. Heat travels through me, warming her and I feel the broken bones fuse themselves together. This causes no pain. The female only feels the warmth of my life energy as it flows into her.

  When I am finished, I stand up and step backward. I glance down at her and see her blue eyes fixed on mine.

  We will meet again, I say and cleanse her mind, watching as her eyelids drift down and she fades into a healing sleep that will restore her. I then dissolve into the mud, once again becoming one with the earth.

  ###

  Eilish

  When I come to, my head is strangely clear. The pain that had been a permanent resident of my body for the last hour is now long gone and I can breathe without incident.

  Glancing upward, I notice the sky is dark, but the light of the flickering fire before me casts light onto my surroundings. I’ve been tied to a tree, my arms restrained behind me. They’re numb and tingling due to the lack of circulation.

  In the light of the fire, I can see my four companions also bound to trees. My breath catches as I spot Cambion, who’s farthest away. He must have been in the front of the truck with the driver. The relief I feel at knowing he’s alive is overshadowed by my dismay at realizing he’s been captured as well. At least we’re all still alive.

  For now.

  Anona’s voice sounds from beside the fire; it’s still raspy as a result of the smoke she inhaled earlier.

  “Riverine is a full day’s journey,” she says to Dravon. “The little shit will never find us.” I realize they’re talking about Flumph and the information I supplied them when I was under the power of the Truth Serum.

  Dravon responds, his already low voice even more rough when he speaks, “I still think someone should teach the little bastard a lesson.”

  “I said to forget about the sprite!” shouts Anona. I see the shadow of her figure lower its head to its hands. “The sprite is no threat to us.”

  Her statement is returned with somber silence.

  “It’s a good thing I was standing ready, eh?” asks a third voice, one of Anona’s other henchmen.

  “You poisoned an already poisoned vampire, Grenid; that don’t make you a hero,” retorts Dravon.

  “Better than you could do, piss ant!” returns Grenid. “You didn’t even know that Swamp Breath incapacitates the undead.”

  “An’ the only reason you knew it is ‘cause Anona told you to use it ‘gainst him!”

  “Knock it off! Both of you,” Anona shouts and then returns to her position of staring at the fire. Her men look at her, as if waiting for further instructions. When she looks up, she sighs. “Without a vehicle, it’ll be nearly a day’s walk to Precinct Three.”

  “Ain’t no vehicles ‘round here,” Dravon says.

  She nods, looking over at Dragan, Thoradin, and Baron. “We won’t be able to carry them, so one of us will have to go to Precinct Three alone.”

  “Why don’t we tell Variant ta send us some damn trucks?” Dravon asks.

  “Stop your fucking talking!” Anona snarls at him. The aggressiveness of her speech sends her spiraling into another violent coughing fit. She spits something out and then turns to face him, her face scrunched into an angry mask. “If we succeed, we’ll be back in the King’s favor. That’s priority one. I don’t intend to bother Variant with tales of our incompetence.” She takes a deep breath. “You should have been watching the vampire more closely.”

  “The angel’s the one who said the spell.” Dravon’s retort is somewhat mumbled with his hesitation. I’m surprised by his response as I don’t recall saying or thinking anything, let alone a spell. I rack my mind, trying to remember what happened just before the truck caught fire. I remember Anona trying to force the truth out of me and the voice, known as Morrigan, inside my head getting more and more upset.

  I’m not sure how I know the voice’s name is Morrigan but I do, all the same. It’s an established truth within me, so I just accept it.

  Then I remember Baron’s foot tapping mine and Morrigan calling out someone’s name, but I can’t remember whose name it was. Could that have been the spell Dravon is referring to? If so, it wasn’t a spell at all...

  “Does it look like I fucking care who started it?” Anona yells. The fire appears to respond to her energy, the flames rising higher. “We don’t need Variant’s help. We’re going to do this on our own and earn the rewards on our own. Mark my words: tomorrow, these fuckers are going to meet their king.”

  FOUR

  Cambion

  Mortal Realm

  I awaken to a pain more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. My lungs scream in agony with every inhale, and my throat feels raw and dry. My body calls out for water, desperate for relief. My muscles are burning, everything is stiff and difficult to move.

  And to think I could be relaxing with a woman or two in Geldinstock…

  Fuck Dragan to the fucking hell he should never have escaped.

  I blink my eyes open, trying to shake away the patches of blurred vision blocking my view. Large black dots obscure my surroundings, seeming to grow more intense the longer my eyes are open. They bounce with each blink until, finally, I’m able to scrap together an idea of my location.

  Since my involuntary initiation into this rag tag crew, I’ve spent more time than I’d like unconscious. I suppose it’s better than being dead, but, as my eyes adjust, I wonder if death isn’t too far behind.

  I’m someone’s prisoner—bound to a thick tree. I’m still in the Mortal Plane, I imagine, because I don’t recognize the trees surrounding me. And the colors are much drabber than what I’m accustomed to in the Fae Realm. It’s been a long time since I left my confinement, and the Mortal Realm is a strange world to my foreign eyes.

  From the road, I can make out the charred remains of our captors’ wagon. Only, it doesn’t exactly appear to be a wagon, with its steel frame. I’m uncertain what the contraption is—a fact that doesn’t surprise me. Variant disallowed technology within the Fae and Shadow Realms to further Dragan’s and my discomfort. Thus, I imagine there are many oddities within the Mortal Realm that will be new to me.

  Scattered debris stretches as far as the eye can see. Glancing around myself, I feel my heart drop when I recognize one of the faces.

  Anona.

  She and her henchmen sit beside a small fire. Their faces, already hideous, are even uglier in their expressions of anger. I’m relieved to see that while I’ve been unconscious, some of my comrades have managed to deal some damage. Anona bears a large scorch mark covering her face and her larger henchman appears exhausted. Their health has taken a hit. But, then again, so has ours.

  A few feet in front of me is another tree and from beyond its thick base, I can see Eilish’s legs extended out before her. I’m not the only one watching her—one of Anona’s men stares at her hungrily. Irritation rebels inside me as I realize what this oaf would do to the angel if given the chance.

  Just as quickly as the anger hits me, I grow annoyed with myself. Whatever happens to the girl is not my concern. I have no affiliation nor attachment to her. And wer
e I to choose between her head being on the proverbial block or mine, I would choose hers forthwith.

  To my left I see three more figures: Dragan, Thoradin, and Baron. All are still. I preserve some small hope that they are still alive, based on the fact that Anona would not have wasted energy in tying a corpse to a tree.

  I focus on the binding that anchors me to the tree. The rope is thick, but because I’m able to touch it, I believe I may be able to use my powers of transmutation to undo my restraints.

  Closing my eyes, I focus everything within me on the ropes, imagining them lighting up with the power of my magic as invisible hands work to untie them. It takes a great deal more effort than when I’m rested, and even though I can feel the heat of my magic working, the rope remains intact.

  It must be enchanted.

  Bloody fuck.

  The more I think on it, the more I realize I should have assumed such would be the case. Anona knows my capabilities and wouldn’t be foolish enough to bind me with ordinary rope.

  “They’ll be starting to wake soon.” Her voice carries through the trees until it reaches me. I sit separated from the others, owing to the arrangement of the trees within the camp’s perimeter. I’m the furthest from their base, which is fortuitous as it means I’m far from Anona’s watchful eye.

  I have already begun to recover from the poison. While I’ve never personally experienced Midnight Tears before, based on the pain and exhaustion I feel emanating from every muscle and fiber in my body, I deduce it to be Anona’s weapon of choice.

  In my time as a healer, I’ve seen first-hand the work of many foul potions, but Midnight Tears is one of a kind. Highly illegal, this poison renders its victim entirely immobile, working in a matter of mere seconds. While it doesn’t kill its victim, it does make them a considerably easier target. I certainly feel like an easy target, sprawled out beneath this tree, my muscles screaming for relief.

  “Should we redose them?” the tallest of the henchman asks.

  “We used the last of the Midnight Tears getting them in the truck,” Anona responds. “I wasn’t anticipating any issues.”