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.”
Okay, then. Sometimes there was no rhyme or reason to magick. She knew that better than anyone.
Of course, ultimately there was rhyme and reason, it just wasn’t readily apparent.
“Do we have to free them all?” she asked.
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.”
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.
15
Falcyn pulled back, ready for war, as the beast by his side rose to do battle. He stepped away from Medea, intending to change into his own dragon body to fight.
Blaise took his arm and fisted his hand in his sleeve to stop him. “Don’t! That’s Maddor.”
Those words froze him to the spot. His heart started racing at the sight of the largest dragon.
This was his son. Close enough to touch.
To hold.
The one creature he’d always wanted to meet.
And he was standing beside his grandson, who continued to hold on to him. For the first time in his life, he was with his children. Both of them. The magnitude of the moment overwhelmed him as he struggled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to define. Twisted pain. Heartache.
Inexplicable joy and pride.
Unbelievable love.
These were his boys. His own flesh and blood …
Feelings slammed into him and left him reeling until the entire lot of them settled down into a rage so profound that it was all he could do not to go straight back to Sanctuary and gut Max for what he’d done.
For what he’d unknowingly cost his children.
And yet—
“Maddor…” The name came out in an anguished breath as he stepped forward, wanting to embrace him.
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.”
It took Falcyn a moment to realize that Urian was right. The chain ran straight into Maddor’s chest and no doubt through his heart. That was the kind of cruelty Narishka and Morgen specialized in.
Damn the bitches for it.
And that wasn’t all. They had him muzzled, too.
That combination of cruelty made Maddor insane. Falcyn couldn’t blame him in the least. 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. Fuck you!
There was no missing that angry voice in Falcyn’s head. 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!
Falcyn ground his teeth, needing some way to reason with an unreasonable temper. Why of all the things his son could have inherited from him did that have to be the primary one?
Then again, it could be worse.
He could have inherited his mother’s.
Yeah, Igraine’s temper had made a mockery of his own. And right now, that double dose of bad genetics was palatable.
Suddenly, the floor rumbled under their feet. Like a 6.0-magnitude earthquake …
Confused by the cause of it, he reached for Medea. But it was hard to remain standing. “Blaise? What the hell is going on here?”
“No idea. Flying hell-monkeys, maybe?”
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 was 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.
What the hell?
“Man!” Urian snapped. “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.” Urian used his powers to conjure a sword. “Anyone have a clue who and what these assholes are?”
“It’s the dungeon.”
They turned to stare at Brandor.
“What did he just say?” Urian’s tone was filled with disbelief.
Brandor nodded. “There are two sections to the chambers down here. La Mort à Jamais—the Eternal Death, where Morgen and Narishka place those they want to torture without fear of killing them. It’s enchanted to ensure their victims will live no matter what’s done to them. Once they’re finished with the torture, Morgen has the lifeless body taken and added 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?”
He shook his head. “No. The nature and strength of the residual magick combines with the souls. Instead of making individual ghosts, they become one single beast. Lombrey de la Mort.”
Falcyn let out a tired breath at the words that meant Death Shadow. “Are you telling me that we’re facing Shadow’s evil twin?”
Brandor laughed. “His prince underling, actually. If Shadow were here, he could control Lombrey and force him into retreat. Or at least order him to stand down.”
Why did those words make him sick to his stomach?
“Without him?”
Glancing around at the numerous warriors the darkness was spawning, Brandor sighed. “We’re screwed. Lombrey’s a nasty bastard. Filled with the screams and righteous agony of a million innocent victims. They say it’s driven him mad and so he attacks everyone who comes into his domain. Indiscriminately.”