Wolfe communicated a message back—don’t be stupid. Get out of the way at the first opportunity.
“What I’ve always wanted,” Guinevere replied with a hiss.
“Kill the dragon and bring me its other eye. Or the boy dies an agonizing death after I have both his pretty blue eyes gouged out instead.”
~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~* ~ *~ * ~
All hell broke loose when Tristan pulled a kamikaze maneuver by snapping his head back suddenly, cracking the hard skull against his captor’s nose, instantly making it gush blood.
Ere’s mouth opened involuntarily to shout a curse at the would-be Elite warrior of the Pure Ones (if he survived tonight, the reckless shit!), but the explicative died on his tongue when he saw that Tristan’s distraction worked.
A split second later, Wolfe charged at Gawain and Modred, clashing swords, while Sorin engaged the zombie apocalypse version of Lancelot.
But not before he threw a small knife at Arthur, forcing him and Tristan to twist in opposite directions as the blade zinged past them down the middle.
Brilliant warrior, was Ere’s Mate. He did a silent cheerleading backflip in his mind.
Seeing that Tristan was safe for the moment, his head still attached to his neck and pretty blue eyes intact, especially now that Rui kept Arthur busy with a whirlwind of attacks, Ere focused on what he could do (apart from staying out of the way).
“Come on,” he said low to Morgan, taking her hand and tugging her away from the clanging sounds of the heated battle.
“I don’t suppose your binding spell works both ways?”
The witch’s eyes widened with comprehension and followed him closely as they skirted around the back of the island rock where no one could see them. Out of sight, out of mind, Ere hoped. So that they could work on freeing Merlin.
The far side of the red dragon that they couldn’t see before made Ere curse beneath his breath.
Despite the darkness, he could make out the jagged ends of another sawed off wing, missing scales and exposed, raw flesh. At first, he thought that some of the wounds had festered, though immortal beings weren’t prone to infection. But then, he realized that the green gunk was a putrid poison that coated small blades inserted beneath the dragon’s scales.
Like inserting needles under human fingernails in some of the most horrendous torture techniques used on prisoners of war.
The dragon’s claws were shackled just like the other side. One of his foreclaws was missing a talon. His skeletal ribs shuddered with belabored breathing, though he didn’t wake from the sounds of battle. On this side, his gauntness and frailty could be even more clearly seen.
He seemed completely submerged in his own hell, a hell that Ere could only imagine, though he’d lived enough nightmares himself to empathize.
As Ere and Morgan snuck by the other side of the unconscious dragon’s head, he noticed the sagging lid closed over Merlin’s missing eye. And he was immediately reminded of their mission, his feelings of pity momentarily shoved aside.
“Can you unbind him from the shackles?” Ere whispered urgently to Morgan, gesturing to the chained claws.
“I can try,” Morgan said.
She closed her eyes and reached out, palms facing the foreclaw’s shackle, her hair spreading in a living halo around her as she channeled her magic.
The iron began to glow, first a dull red, then a bright orange. The skin beneath it sizzled, and the scent of burnt flesh assaulted Ere’s senses. More to the point, it must hurt the dragon terribly.
But Merlin didn’t stir, continuing to shudder every few breaths, buried in his own private hell, seemingly unaware of his physical being.
Just when Ere was beginning to lose hope, wondering whether Morgan would melt through the entire limb along with the shackle, the thick iron band fell off with a clunk into the water.
Yes!
Ere pumped his fist in silent victory, urging Morgan to quickly work on the chained hind claw.
But this time when Morgan was cutting through the metal with her magic, the band glowed orange, then faded to bluish-white, making the witch pull back her palms with a muttered wince, as if her magic had backfired and she’d been burned.
“Come now, dear sister, you know you are no match for me.”
Ere and Morgan whirled around to face Guinevere, who had come up behind them, only a few feet away.