“Yeah, well, not real big on your slang either, Yobo.”
Blaise shook his head irritably. “Bloody Yank.”
Falcyn lit the cave with his fireballs. “Too bad we don’t have Cadegan here. A dark hole like this is right up his alley.”
“Illarion’s, too,” Urian reminded him.
Falcyn nodded. He was right about that. They’d both lived in drab caves for centuries.
Medea gave him an arch stare. “I would have thought you were at home here, too.”
He grimaced at the ex-Daimon. “Stop with the stereotypes. Not all dragons hibernate in closed quarters. I lived on an island, on top of ruins. In the open and quite happy not to be penned in. My brother Max lives in a bar.”
“Aye to that,” Blaise chimed in. “My home was a castle in Camelot. Usually under the Pendragon’s feet, but we won’t talk about that, as it’s just a dismal memory. Retrospect, don’t know why I brought it up.”
Brogan cocked her head. “Most of the dragons here are cave-dwellers. They fire our forges. The rest hide so as not to be enslaved.”
“How many reside here?”
She scowled at Blaise’s question. “A few dozen that I know of. Not counting the orms. They were bred once the dragon numbers began to thin.”
“Makes sense.” Falcyn passed a sad look at Blaise. “We don’t do well in captivity.”
“Is that why you’re blind?” Brogan asked.
“No. My father blinded me, hoping I’d die in the wild when I was a babe.… At least that’s what I was told.”
Brogan paled. “Pardon? Why would he do such a terrible thing to his own child?”
“My mother had me to be a tool to control my father, but when he rejected me because of my albinism, my mother abandoned me to him and he took me out into the woods and left me there to die. I was to be an offering to the gods. Luckily, they rejected me, too.”
With every word he spoke, fury rode hard on Falcyn, and he crossed the room to Blaise’s side. His features turning dark and deadly, Falcyn fisted his hand in Blaise’s hair and jerked him close. “You were never rejected by me. Never!”
Raw sadness hovered in his sightless eyes. “I know.”
With a gruff growl, Falcyn released him and stepped back.
Medea felt a strange lump in her throat as she saw the moisture Falcyn blinked away from his eyes and the way Blaise licked his lips and cleared his throat as if biting back his own round of tears. That was love in its purest, gruffest masculine form.
Now she knew why Falcyn protected him so zealously.
And that thought brought a wave of strong emotion surging through her that she couldn’t quite identify. But it was definitely tender and overwhelming.
There was a lot more to this dragon than just the beast he let the world see.
And Brogan saw it, too.
Clearing her own throat, Brogan motioned toward the backside of the cave. “There should be a tunnel that leads toward the underground channels where we might be able to find a path to the porch.”
“The porch?” Medea didn’t understand the word, but the way the woman said it she felt as if she should.
“Aye. It’s the plateau where the elders meet to watch the other realms. There’s a portal there.”
“Why do they do that?”
Brogan scoffed at her question. “In case you haven’t noticed, my lady, there’s not a lot to do here, other than survive and make weaponry for the gods and fey beings. So the elder wyrdlings look out, pick a happy mortal, and ruin their lives. For fun and wagering.”
Medea gaped. “You’re serious?”
Her features grim, Brogan nodded. “They call it the yewing. The mortal is randomly selected and his or her fate is up to whatever lot they draw from their skytel bag while they’re watching them. They think it entertaining.”
“I knew it!” Blaise growled. “I knew my life was nothing but a sick joke to the fey. And all of you said I crazy.” When no one commented he drew up sullenly. “Well, you did. And I was right.”
Falcyn snorted. “Anyway, let’s find this porch and see if we can locate the portal back home. Or at least to Avalon or Camelot. From there, we can return. For that matter, I’d take Vanaheim or Asgard.”
“You could travel from there?” Medea asked in an impressed tone.
“I have friends in low places.”
“Those aren’t low places,” Brogan admonished.
“That depends on your point of view.” Falcyn winked at her. “From where I stand, they’re in the gutter.”
“Who are your parents?” Medea asked, even more curious about him now.
Blaise shook his head at her. “Don’t go there. It’s a dark place of pain we don’t want to visit, as it will send him to a level of pissed off he won’t return from for quite some time. We just say that he was spawned from the fount of evil and leave it at that.”
“So you two didn’t have the same mother?” Brogan asked.
Blaise shook his head. “They were only the same lethal species.”
“Can we change the subject?” The bark in Falcyn’s tone added veracity to Blaise’s words.
Medea held her hands up in surrender. Obviously, he had about as much love for his parents as Urian did for Stryker. And speaking of … she really needed to get home and help her family. “Can we not teleport to the portal?”
Brogan shook her head. “I wouldn’t advise it. Those powers tend to attract unwanted attention in this realm. The less magick used that they’re unfamiliar with, the safer you’ll be.”
Awesome. Just flipping awesome.
Suddenly, another streak rushed past Medea’s face.
“Case in point,” Brogan said quietly. “There’s enough trouble with things such as that attacking us. Last thing we need is to be adding to it.”
“What causes that to happen?” Medea watched it ricochet off and explode behind Urian.
Brogan touched the wall. When she did so, it began to glimmer with a faint green glow that allowed them to see deep into the darkness. Oddly enough, it appeared more like a shimmering night sky than an underground cavern. Truly, it was magical and breathtaking. Like something from a dream.
“Well, it depends. Some of those lights are sparks left over from the creation of magical items in the forges. They dance about until they extinguish on their own. Others are certain spells that never weaken. Some actually grow stronger. When they can’t be contained in their own worlds or environments, they’re naturally drawn here.”
Medea frowned at that. “Why?”
“It’s what this was set up for.” Brogan gestured to the walls around them. “Myrkheim. It’s a magnet realm for that magick to protect the other worlds.”
Her scowl deepened. “You use that word as if it makes sense to my Apollite ears.”