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“You know about the dragon sightings, don‟t you?” he asked.

Brianna looked puzzled. “Sure. It‟s been all over the news. It‟s appeared at

some vet clinic twice.”

“That‟s been no accident. That veterinarian is going to help me find Excalibur.”

Her eyes widened. “The second relic?”

“Yes.” Michael was glad he didn‟t have to explain. Brianna was Sara‟s best

friend and understood what they had undertaken.

“What does that have to do with Morgan?” she asked now.

“I don‟t know, but she showed up at Sophie‟s—the vet—clinic and now she‟s

working there.”

“Coincidence?”

“You know there are no coincidences.”

“Sometimes Fate works in ways we don‟t understand. Maybe she‟s there to help

in some way.”

“I‟m not sure.”

“Well, let it play out. Destiny is what it will be.” She gestured toward the trees.

“The others are waiting.”

Michael nodded and followed her, drawing up his hood as he stepped into the

middle of the circle the witches had formed. Each of them held a small, blue, glass globe with a candle. They raised these now as the rounded sphere of the moon began to show

on the lake‟s horizon and began their soft chanting.

It was his part of the ritual to call the elements and normally, he called in proper

rotation beginning with the east, but tonight he faced west first. “Llyr, god of water, be SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 44

with us.” He turned north. “Pridd, god of earth, be welcome.” Facing east, he

continued, “Awyr, god of air, come swiftly.” Then, he pivoted south. “Tanio, god of

fire, join us.”

He held his breath, waiting to see if the Pendragon would appear. Tanio was the

god he answered to, but nothing red streaked across the sky. Instead, the water ruffled, white-capping as the wind began to blow. Leaves rustled and then, suddenly, the blue

globe that Brianna held left her hands and crashed to the ground. The candle‟s flame

spiraled upward and there was a collective gasp from the group as it took the shape of a small dragon, its fiery tail flicking back and forth as it hovered in front of Michael and then it flickered to earth. Michael looked down.

The scorch mark the flame left was in the form of a sword.

* * * *

The Pendragon roused himself, his yawn vibrating off the walls of the small cave.

He had been dreaming of his lair with its hoard of bright, shining jewels when he heard

the call to Tanio.

Blast the warlock for waking him! Smoke flared from his nostrils before he

controlled his anger. It was bad enough that he had to deal with humans again—foolish

creatures who thought they could injure him with tiny pellets from a long object that one of them aimed at him. He contemplated. The metal object the human had used belched a

puff of smoke itself when it made that cracking sound. Perhaps he would have to swoop

down and take it from the next insipid mortal who thought to harm him. It might be an

interesting piece to add to his hoard, although its dull burnished color could not compete with silver and gold.

Golden light shone at the entrance to his present cave a moment before the fire-

god strode in. As always, orange fire circled his loins while red flames cloaked his bare shoulders. His blazing blue hair flared out behind him. He crossed his massive arms and glared at the dragon.

“You have not found Excalibur.”

The dragon clicked his tail, spines half-rising in irritation, but he kept his voice

even. “The warlock and his mortal have no idea where it is.”

“Brighid sent you to help them.”

He leveled his cobalt stare on the god. “I am here to protect the human.”

Tanio laughed suddenly. “And how you hate to do that.”

Pendragon ruffled his scales, the sound clanging in the small space. “It was a

human who so foolishly threw away the sword in the first place.”

Sobering, Tanio nodded. “Bedwyr meant to return it to the Lady, but Manannan

intercepted it, thinking it was his own sword, Answerer.”

“Ah, yes, a sea-god who should have stayed in the oceans,” Pendragon replied

with a snort. “How could he mistake the sword of fire for his?”

Tanio shrugged, sending off sparks that floated in the air. “Llyr banished him

from the Lake for that bit of foolishness. Unfortunately, it also caught Balor‟s attention.”

“Balor has been hunting it since then?” Pendragon asked.

“It would seem so. Luckily, Talesin found the sword and in time, it passed on to

the Lion-Heart and found its way to Sarras to reunite with the other relics.” Tanio

frowned, the flames of his cloak leaping around him. “This time, humans might not be so lucky. Balor has become extremely powerful in the mortal world while you slept.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 45

Excalibur in his hands would mean total chaos and destruction.”

The dragon nodded thoughtfully. “And if he has Sigurd to help him…”

“
What
?” Tanio‟s head came up sharply, blue spikes from his hair flaring wildly.

“The white dragon lies buried deep in the northern ice. Only my fire can melt his

prison.”

“He has been called forth,” Pendragon answered. “I have smelt him.”

“But how…?”

“Perhaps the demon, Lucifer, freed him,” the red dragon replied. “He had a talent

with fire, if I recall.”

Flames blazed around Tanio. “That damn renegade. He never would abide by

our rules. If Sigurd is loose, our problem has just been magnified many times over.”

Pendragon snarled, revealing sharp, elongated fangs. “You leave Sigurd to me. I

owe him for what he did to Arthur.”

“Just remember, finding Excalibur is what counts.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Dragons have long memories.”

Tanio nodded and abruptly disappeared, leaving a small, smoldering pile of ash in

his wake.

Pendragon smiled, his rough tongue caressing his pointed teeth.
This fight is

personal now. Sigurd will die. I vow it.

* * * *

Sophie tossed and turned, eventually falling into a fitful sleep. Strange threads of

reality wove around the edges of surreal dreams: the animals in her kennels looking at

her with soulful eyes…the new girl, Morgan, watching her too, but with a different look

altogether…the reporter, Toby, eyeing her anxiously when he gave her the

keychain…and Michael, his dark eyes holding both laughter and lust, as though he knew

it was only time before she would succumb to him. She turned over, mumbling, and

punched the pillow.

Then, suddenly, he was there, the scent of heather filling her room. Sophie

popped her eyes open and sat up abruptly.

The room was empty.

“Great,” she grumbled as she sank back onto the mattress, “now I‟m having

hallucinations of
him
. It‟s bad enough there‟s a dragon out there.” She hit the pillow again, bunching it up under her neck and closed her eyes.

Michael was back—and wearing only a kilt.

Resolutely, Sophie kept her eyes closed. She would
not
participate in this madcap fantasy—or illusion—or whatever it was. She was tired. The idea of some pre-historic

dinosaur still alive in the twenty- first century was playing with her mind.

Strangely enough, even with her eyes closed, she could
see
. Moonlight from her

window played across Michael‟s bare, broad chest, accentuating the sculpted pecs and

bi‟s and creating shadows in the hard ridges of his washboard belly. A pale light seemed to glow around him—or maybe
from
him. Sophie squeezed her eyes tighter shut. Her poor brain really was on overload. Next, she‟d have him sprouting wings like the

avenging arch-angel that bore his name. She almost giggled. There was nothing—

nothing
—angelic about Michael McCain…except for that damn dimpled smile.

She sensed him moving closer and then felt his weight as he eased himself onto

her bed beside her. This was getting to be some weird fantasy.

SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 46

“Shhh,” he whispered as his fingertips lightly touched her eyelids. “Keep your

eyes closed, lass.”

Lass? Now what? He‟d turned into a Highlander from some romance novel?

She didn‟t even read romance! Sophie tried to open her eyes and found that she couldn‟t.

It was as though his feathery touch had sealed them somehow. Yet, instead of panic

growing, she felt languid, almost as though her bones were dissolving into nothingness.

“That‟s it. Just lie there and relax.”

Michael‟s voice soothed her and from some fifth dimension, it sounded more like

an Irish brogue than a Scottish burr now. She couldn‟t understand the words he was

using, but the warmth of his hands stroking her shoulders and arms calmed her further

and she sank more deeply into her dream, murmuring.

Strange, how warm and firm his lips felt against her mouth. And what he

could do with them. He slanted his lips over hers, alternating the pressure, kissing gently, then sucking her lower lip between his, then barely brushing her swollen mouth. His

tongue slid leisurely along the seam and she opened to allow him access. He played with her, teasing the tip of her tongue, battling it softly, then plunging fully in to plunder her mouth. His taste was divine, sweet like aged wine, yet slightly woodsy and salty as

though he‟d brought the outdoors in with him.

A coolness fanned her breasts and she realized her nightgown had come off

somehow. Before she could shiver, his large hands were cupping her breasts, kneading

them gently, thumbs flicking over nipples, making them into hard little buds.

Sophie murmured again, telling Michael to stop—at least she thought that was

what she tried to say. His soft laugh said otherwise and he whispered something in that strange language again. Maybe she didn‟t want him to stop—after all, this was a dream.

She hadn‟t had sex in so long. Maybe Michael‟s careful avoidance in not touching her in the car a few days ago was what was bringing this on—some obstinate, irrational desire

to prove she was desirable? Her brain frizzled. At the moment, all that seemed to matter was his touch.

His mouth closed over one tight nipple and Sophie arched her back into him as he

began to suckle, pulling slowly and gently while he rolled the other tip between his finger and thumb, tugging lightly. The sensation seared deeply through her body and she felt

the juncture of her thighs grow damp, her core throbbing as though it had been set

aflame.
That
hadn‟t ever happened this quickly—not even in real, waking life.

Sophie moaned again, eyes still closed. Now she was afraid to open them. There

would be nothing—no one—there and this erotic fantasy would be over.

Michael‟s tongue traveled a wet trail down her belly, pausing to explore her navel

before continuing downward. Dear God! Was he…

He was. Somehow, he had shifted position and was kneeling between her spread

thighs. When had she opened them? Michael lifted her legs, placing them over his

shoulders and bent down to taste her. His tongue felt like soft velvet as he licked slowly along her folds, her juices slicking the way. He teased her pulsating nub, circling it

lightly with the tip of his tongue. Sophie made a mewling sound, deep in her throat.

Michael laughed, deliberately continuing the slow, exquisite torture: kissing, licking, air-brushing, stopping. Sophie‟s hips lifted, begging for more.

And then he bore down, sucking the quivering nub, drawing deep while his finger

plunged into her center, finding the soft spot that made stars suddenly sparkle and shoot SWORD OF FIRE Cynthia Breeding 47

behind her eyes as her body shattered in total surrender.

Sophie lay there panting, becoming aware eventually, that there no longer was a

weight on the bed. Light seemed to fill the room, although it was no longer pale

moonbeams. Dawn, already? She forced her eyes open.

There was no one there.

But the odd, orange cast still lingered. She felt a shiver creep up her spine as she

turned toward the window. It couldn‟t be…

Reluctantly, she swung her feet over the bed and walked to the window. The

dragon sat on her lawn, docile as a large dog. Sophie blinked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. What in the world…? She blinked again.

A man stood beside the dragon, consumed in fire. Orange flames licked his legs,

red ones flowed around his shoulders like a cape and his hair…blue flares whipped in the night breeze. And yet, he didn‟t appear to be burning.

She had to be hallucinating. First, the wild, erotic dream and now this…this man

encircled in flames. Not to mention the dragon. She‟d almost gotten used to him—

which just proved what state her mind was in. She moved closer to the window and then

gasped.

The dragon‟s lips were peeled back, making him look like he was smiling. She

looked at the fire- man. He
was
grinning…almost like they‟d both witnessed her erotic dream themselves. She felt her body heat and her face grow hot. That wasn‟t possible,

of course. Michael hadn‟t even been here. It was a
dream
.

Then she gaped as the fiery man bowed with a flourish and waved his hand

through the air, making the dragon and himself disappear. Sophie slipped to the floor, a hand to her mouth.