They turned as one solid group to face this new onslaught.
As tall as Urian, the newcomer was swathed in the gold and green armor of a fey guard. A thick leather hood covered his head. Muscled and fierce, he stood with the cocksure stance of a warrior who knew how to fight to the bitter end.
Yet he didn’t draw his sword.
Rather he held his hands out to his sides as if amused by them and their predicament.
Urian lifted his shield and prepared for a psychic attack.
Instead, laughter greeted them. “Bet if I sneezed right now, I’d send the lot of you jumping straight to the ceiling like a glaring of cats.”
Falcyn growled deep in his throat. “Varian, you worthless bastard! Get in here. Shadow’s down.”
The humor died instantly while the man shut the door, then lowered his hood to expose his long dark hair.
“What happened?” Varian knelt by Shadow’s side.
Falcyn joined him there to help tend Shadow. “We were cornered by dire wolves.”
“Dire wolves or gwyllgi?”
“Gwyllgi,” Blaise answered.
Varian cursed. “Was the Crom with them?”
Blaise nodded without further comment.
Varian used his powers to strip Shadow’s leather armor away. Then he lifted the linen shirt to inspect the damage.
Urian cringed in sympathetic pain at the sight of the festering wound and all the other deep, ridged scars that marred Shadow’s cut and ripped abdomen and chest.
Again, Varian cursed—this time, more lewdly. “Damn, Shade. Can’t you ever do anything halfway once in a while? No, you don’t get a little wounded. You’ve got to get practically gutted.”
Falcyn sat back on his heels. “If you hold him, I can heal him.”
Varian stopped Falcyn. “If you’re planning to tap what I think you are, don’t. Apollo will feel it and jump all over you the minute you try.” He worked to stop Shadow’s bleeding. “I’ve got this. You have a mission to complete. But I should warn you…”
Urian’s gut twisted over that tone.
Varian’s gaze went to Blaise before he met Falcyn’s stare. “There’s a stairwell at the end of the hallway that will take you down to the catacombs. Be careful. They’re expecting all of you to come here and be stupid.”
Oh well, that they could do!
“Then far be it from us to disappoint them.” Falcyn saluted him with the key that he had taken from Shadow. “Thanks.” He rose and they left the chamber.
“Where does this lead?” Medea asked as they came up to a tunnel.
“Morgen’s garden.” Blaise’s tone was flat and emotionless in the dim light.
“I don’t understand. A garden underground?” No sooner had she finished the question than they slowed down.
Falcyn used his dragonfyre in his hand as a torch so that they could see what was around them.
The moment he raised his arm over his head and the light chased away the heavier shadows, Urian’s heart stopped.
And so did he.
This was it …
Holy shit. The “garden” was massive and lined with giant dragon statues that went on in an endless, eerie display. In every direction.
Brandor turned to look at Urian. “The light fog down here is from their breath. At least by that, we know they’re still alive even if they are frozen by Merlin’s spell.”
Medea frowned. “I don’t understand. If they’re frozen, how can they breathe fog?”
Though he was blind in his human form, Blaise glanced toward Brogan and then Medea before he answered. “The gas we exhale. It causes that. Even when we’re locked in by magick. Not sure why. Just a peculiar by-product.”
“Do we have to free them all?” she asked.
Before Urian could explode with his answer, Falcyn headed for the largest beast over on his right. “It’s the safest thing to do. That way, Morgen won’t have any to rouse and use against us.”
Urian was still too emotionally charged to speak. He was afraid if he did, he’d burst into tears.
Afraid if he moved, he’d fall to his knees.
Where was Xyn? He was desperate to find her.
Blaise left Brogan’s side as he felt his way through the darkness. “I’m not sure how to use my father’s ring to awaken them. Do you know?”
Falcyn reached out to take it from him.
Just as their fingers brushed, the dragon nearest them opened its eyes and growled. Falcyn pulled back as the beast by his side rose to do battle. Blaise took his arm and fisted his hand in his sleeve to stop him. “Don’t! That’s Maddor.”
“Maddor…” The name came out in an anguished breath. Maddor was Falcyn’s son who’d been taken from him.
Finally in control of himself and able to focus on something, Urian splayed his hand against Falcyn’s chest to stop him from approaching his child. “They have him pinned.” He jerked his chin toward the chain that held Maddor in place. “I’m betting if you free the dragons, it’ll kill him.”
Because that was the kind of nasty tactics the gods specialized in. They were nothing if not cruel.
The chain ran straight into Maddor’s chest and no doubt through his heart.
Damn Apollo for this!
And that wasn’t all. He was muzzled, too. That combination of cruelty would have made Maddor insane. No dragon did well in captivity. Not even a mandrake. They were meant to roam free, not be bound in such a manner.
Stepping past Urian, Falcyn reached to touch his son’s scales. “Maddor, calm yourself. We’re here to help.”
With a fiery hiss, Maddor lunged at him so that Falcyn couldn’t make contact.
Maddor lashed at Blaise with his tail.
Falcyn barely pulled Blaise back before Maddor pierced him with a spike. “Stop! You don’t want to harm us.”
Of course I do. It’s your fault I’m here! I intend to kill you both!
Falcyn winced at a truth he couldn’t change. “I know and I’m sorry for that.”
You’re about to be even sorrier those three seconds before I kill you!
Suddenly, the floor rumbled under their feet. Like a 6.0 magnitude earthquake …
“Blaise? What the hell is going on here?”
“No idea. Flying hell-monkeys, maybe?”
Urian glanced around the room, trying to find the source. They should be so lucky. Instead of dramonk demons being unleashed, the cracks in the stone widened and a greenish smoke spiraled out. It was as if the entire dungeon were alive and moving.
No, not moving.
Breathing. That was exactly what it felt like. Smelled like. The way the floor and walls moved was in time to someone’s intake of breath. In and out. Seismic. Rolling.
Jarring.
Urian sneered as he caught a whiff of some foul sulfuric stench. “Someone tell me these are vapors like the Delphian oracle used to get high on before she mumbled gibberish.”
Medea shook her head. “Sorry, little brother. I actually visited her once. This ain’t it.”
True to her prediction, the smoke coiled into fierce warriors, complete with armor.
And swords.
They had a lot of swords.
“Damn it!” Urian summoned his sword and shield again. “We cannot catch a break.”
“Hey, I gave you an easy way out,” Falcyn reminded him. “You could be home right now, watching Survivor. But no, you chose to be here.”
“What can I say? I’m an idiot. I’d blame it on the fact that I come from a long line of them, but my mom and dad would kick my ass for the insult. So I’ll blame Stryker for raising me among them. Anyone have a clue who and what these assholes are?”
“It’s the dungeon, enchanted to ensure their victims will live no matter what’s done to them. Once they’re finished with the torture, they take the lifeless body and add it to the catacombs. But the by-product of that cruelty and magick is that the dungeon absorbs the tortured soul and holds on to it forever. It makes the soul a part of it. After a time, l’ame en peine bonds with the others that are trapped here until they become one single entity.”
“Okay.” Falcyn glanced around at the forming warriors. “So they’re ghosts?”