Medea scowled. “Then how does Shadow quell him?”
“Hell if I know. For that matter, no one knows for sure. Only that he goes without fear into wherever it is that Lombrey lives and emerges victorious.”
Falcyn growled in frustration. “Well that’s … fucking useless.” They had to find some way to get Maddor free without killing him. Awaken the dragons.
And stop Lombrey from attacking them.
Or killing them.
But how could anyone fight a shadow when they weren’t a shadow? When they couldn’t drag his soldiers out, make them solid, and beat the hell …
Wait a second.
Yeah, that was it!
Falcyn licked his lips in expectation of the fight to come. But as he prepared himself mentally, he had a radical idea.
Mad radical.
This was crazy, but just insane enough that it might work.
He glanced over to the women. “Um … Brogan? Can you do us a favor? Summon the Crom.”
Eyes wide, she turned to gape at Falcyn. “Beg pardon? Are you out of your mind?”
“All the time. But strangely, this isn’t total lunacy.” Well, total being the operative word. “It makes complete sense.” If one was insane.
Blaise cleared his throat. “I’m with Brogan. I think this is a profoundly bad idea.”
“Good thing I’m bad to the marrow of my bones.” Falcyn shot a fire blast at the spiraling shadows headed for them. “You might want to coo to the Crom, love … Sooner rather than later.”
Medea attempted to fight off an attacker, only to learn what he already knew.
It was an impossible task. They were too quick and noncorporeal. A bad combination in a fight.
Brogan’s voice echoed off the stone walls as a large shadow peeled itself away to approach them.
“Scream. Scream. Loud and clear.” His voice was haunting and raspy. “Anguish is the sound most dear.” He laughed. “Tell me now of every pain. Until no life here shall remain.”
“You’re a twisted bugger.” Falcyn shot a fireball at their new friend.
The light broke through the darkness to show an ethereally handsome face. At least one side of it. The other was concealed by a black hood. With haunting eyes of gold, Lombrey stared at him. His caramel skin glistened before he faded back into the recesses of the wall.
The floor buckled again as the ground continued its rhythmic pulsing.
“Hear me, Crom, I bid you ride,” Brogan breathed. “I need you now, by my side.”
Lombrey hissed at her chant. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t respond to him. “Of darkest sin and mighty power. Let your fiercest wrath reign and shower.”
“Stop that!” Lombrey growled.
It was too late. A swirling vortex twisted in the air, sending debris all over them, and scattering the shadow warriors Lombrey had conjured.
“What is this?” Medea asked.
“The Crom rising.” Falcyn jerked his chin toward the light that spiraled in dizzying circles. A horse neighed in the distance.
Then they felt him. That heavy, rhythmic thrumming of demonic hooves. They pounded in his chest like a second heartbeat.
Until the Black Crom and his horse leapt from the portal and reared before them.
Brogan shrank back with a shriek while Blaise ran to protect her.
Falcyn smiled. “Brogan? Tell him Morgen, Narishka, and Mordred.”
Her eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“He wants the names of victims. I can’t think of any better. Or more deserving of his wrath.”
A slow smile curved her lips as she finally understood what he was asking her to do. With a tilt of her chin and a wink, she let out a small laugh.
“Master of life and silent death. I call upon you with my sacred breath. Hear these names and so pursue. Morgen, Mordred, Narishka are the ones meant for you.”
The Black Crom shot his skull whip toward Brogan so that it could open its mouth as if catching those names, and laugh at her. To them all I will ride. And never spare them my homicide.
Suddenly, Medea began to chant in a language Falcyn couldn’t identify.
As she did that, he began his own incantation. It was something he hadn’t done in a long while. Something he’d once been real good at.
The air around him sizzled as he called on his arcane powers. The kind that only a god could command. Every hair on his body stood to attention.
Goose bumps ran from his neck, down his back, and across his arms. The aether whispered in his ears. The voices of a billion people and those of his parents and those of other pantheons.
He heard the lifeblood of the world. The universe. Even the stars whispered in his ears. Power rose up inside him. Crackling. Snapping. Sizzling.
Without being told, Falcyn knew his eyes had turned a serpentine yellow. Something confirmed as Medea looked at him and gasped.
Falcyn ignored her as he came to the most dangerous part. Should he lose focus now, Maddor would die. It took a lot of care to remove a soul from a body, especially against the will of the owner. Most couldn’t even begin to do this, as all souls had to be given and gently coerced.
But he was older than those laws. Back in the day, his father had commanded the souls of all humanity. He’d bartered and sold them like a child with a set of Pokémon cards.
Lombrey froze.
As did his warriors.
It’s working.…
Any moment now, his son would have a new home. Maddor might hate him for it, but at least it would get him away from Morgen’s clutches.
Falcyn whispered faster.
Louder.
The Black Crom screamed. Lombrey cursed and writhed as he fell to his knees.
Something dark and cold passed through Falcyn. It rose up like a wave and came crashing down. Electricity roiled through his body, making his hair fly up and out. For a full minute, no one moved.
No one breathed.
No one dared.
Falcyn turned toward Lombrey, expecting to see Maddor.
The shadow warriors faded into the walls of the dungeon, where they hung as motionless shadows. “What have you done?” Lombrey asked.
“I freed you from Morgen.”
Lombrey laughed. “I was never enslaved by that bitch.”
Confused, Falcyn turned toward Blaise for an explanation. “I thought Morgen owned all the mandrakes.”
“She does.”
His brow arched in question, he turned back toward Lombrey, who stared at him with a frown of utter bewilderment.
“What do mandrakes have to do with me?”
A bad feeling went through Falcyn. He’d pulled Maddor’s soul out of his body. He’d felt it. There was no mistaking that sensation. Granted, it’d been a while since he’d last done such, but still …
He returned to the “dragon” Maddor’s side.
The dragon who for all intents and purposes appeared to be Maddor could no longer speak. He glanced about the room as if every bit as disoriented and confused as Falcyn felt.
That bad feeling deepened inside him. Please tell me I didn’t.…
With a knot in his stomach, he glanced around at his companions. Yet no one seemed to be different.
Who the hell had his son’s soul?
“Maddor?”
Brandor took a step back. “Why are you looking at me?”
He pinned an inquisitive stare on Brogan.
“What?” she asked.
“Urian?”
“Yeah?”