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Behind them, a long column of male slaves approached, two by two. Some carried casks brimming with jewels, Others were laden with bars of gold. Greed joined lust, both raging to be satisfied.

“Yours,” whispered the voice. “The gold. The jewels. The slaves. All yours. Bring me the flask. All this and more will be yours.”

With a roar, my dragon seized the flask. Gripping it tight in his claws, he flapped his wings and soared into the night sky. Fear gripped me. My control of the beast within had always been fragile. I felt my human will slipping away as he grew stronger, fed by the flames – and the seductive promises of the Lord of Darkness.

Chapter Twenty-One

Melisandre

I heard them before I saw them. A band of soldiers coming my way, making their nightly rounds.

I glanced around wildly, looking for a crevice where I could hide. Enormous boulders had held back rivers of lava over the centuries, creating the small clearing where Drayke left me. But those same flows built a seamless wall around the boulders. My refuge had become a cage. If the sentries did a thorough search of the area, they’d find me. The only way out was to climb up and over, where I’d certainly be seen. Or fly, the way my dragon lord did.

One man, taller than the others, suddenly poked his head above the barrier.

“Intruder! Intruder!”

The cry rang out, taken up by other voices down the mountainside.

He clambered over and drew his sword. No man in my kingdom who called himself a man would pull out his weapon to face a mere woman. As he advanced, twirling it menacingly, I realized in the starlight, dressed as I was in leather pants and a man’s shirt, with my hair pulled back, he took me for a male.

He was huge, easily a head taller than I. Beefy shoulders, bulging biceps. Dressed in dark trousers and shirt, topped by a sleeveless tunic decorated with an insignia that glowed deep red.How stupid,Pieter would have said.He’s vain enough to wear a symbol of his rank that allows his enemies to see him coming, day or night.

Despite his size, thanks to the training by my royal guard, I wasn’t afraid to battle him sword against sword. But all I had was my knife. I drew it and moved into the center of the clearing where I had room to maneuver. A lesson from Pieter –don’t let the enemy pin you against a wall.

He gave an ugly laugh. “Is that your weapon, little man?” He circled me, beckoning with one hand. “Come here then, and show me what you can do with it.”

I ran straight at him before his mocking laughter died away. Ducked under his upraised sword arm, slashed out, and darted away. He looked down in disbelief at the blood oozing from his side then let out a roar.

He charged at me, swinging the sword back and forth as though hacking his way through the jungle with a machete. All brawn. No finesse.Find your opponent’s weakness, Pieter taught me.Use it against him, and he will defeat himself.The man may have been big, but he was both vain and slow. I backed away, letting him think he had me cowed. When he came close enough for me to see the triumph in his eyes, I dropped to the ground and rolled under the sword, slashing the Achilles tendon of his right ankle. By the time he reacted, I was back on my feet, halfway across the ring.

He charged forward then his eyes widened as the leg buckled out from under him. Another lesson.In the heat of battle, an enemy may not even feel the blow you dealt.

He groaned and hauled himself to his feet, his weight all on one leg. I danced toward him, staying on his bad side so he was forced to hop in a circle to keep me in view. But I was smaller and faster. I watched for my opening then whirled around behind him and buried my knife to the hilt in his back.

He let out a scream that froze my blood then collapsed face-down on the ground.

Never let your guard down, even when the enemy lies at your feet, mortally wounded. Every battle is a battle to the death. Show no mercy.

It was easy to nod and pretend to lop off Henry’s head while Pieter watched approvingly. But the blood pooling at my feet was real. The body twitching and moaning that of another living soul. Enemy or no, I couldn’t kill him while he lay helpless. I murmured a prayer, leaving his fate to the Goddess, and pried the sword from his hand.

Not a moment too soon. Half a dozen men swarmed over the boulders, blades drawn. “You never prepared me for this, Pieter,” I muttered, backing away.

They saw the body of their fallen comrade and rushed at me all at once. I took up my stance. Feet planted, sword arm steady, eyes roving from side to side as I tried to figure out which one would reach me first.

They all stopped dead in their tracks when the dragon swooped down and landed between us. He reared up on his hind legs, wings unfurled.

One idiot let out a wild cry and charged him. The dragon opened his mouth and let out a terrible roar then sent a bolt of fire shooting out. The man screamed and fell to the ground with his clothes aflame.

The others took one look at him and scrambled back up the boulders, disappearing into the night. I didn’t blame them. I’d never seen my dragon shoot fire before. It was truly a terrifying sight.

“Thank the Goddess you’re here,” I breathed. “I didn’t know how long I could hold out.”

The dragon turned and faced me, clutching a flask in its front claws. Flames spouted from it. I met his eyes and shivered despite the heat of the lava bubbling up far above us. My tender lover was gone. I was staring into the eyes of a beast, hot and red, without a trace of humanity.

I wanted to turn my back and run, but I had to try and reach Drayke, had to believe he was still there somewhere inside. I forced myself to speak as I would to a wild thing, my voice low and soothing. “Good. You found the flask, just like I knew you would. And you brought it here.”

He didn’t make a move, so I went on. “Yes. So good,” I crooned. “Now give it to me. The flask must be destroyed. Remember? We can’t let the dark lord use it to hurt anyone.”


Tags: Kallista Dane Warriors of the Seven Stars Paranormal